Even with the exercise classes during the day, Jag had learned that Michael normally woke late. And why not? He never went to bed before three, and the exercise classes didn’t start until after lunch.
“Go back to sleep,” Jag urged.
He knew he wouldn’t be able to, but then he’d slept for over half the previous day, albeit fitfully, and hadn’t worked at the club all night. He felt a pang of guilt about that. He would never normally have let Michael down like that or the other dancers. He’d been a complete mess after trying to speak to his parents. He’d expected to feel emotionally crap afterwards, but physically? His all too visceral reaction had been unexpected. More proof that he was broken beyond repair, as if he needed any.
“I’m good,” Michael said. “Are you okay?”
Jag debated nodding. “No,” he said after a slight pause. “But I’ll get there.” He left a light kiss on Michael’s chest. “Thank you for listening last night and for not throwing me out.” He braced himself for Michael to decide to do just that.
“I never would,” Michael said. “You’re stuck with me if you’ll have me,” he added with a chuckle. He stroked Jag’s cheek. “You did break up with me.”
Jag cringed.
“How about we forget that happened?” Michael suggested.
“I don’t know how you can forgive me so easily.”
“You had damned good reasons for reacting the way you did,” Michael said.
Jag rolled onto his back, his arm flopped over his stomach, and he let out a heavy sigh. “That doesn’t excuse my behaviour.”
Michael turned onto his side, propping himself up on his elbow so he was staring down into Jag’s eyes. “Stop beating yourself up over this.” He leant down and kissed Jag’s lips. “I forgive you.” His hand curled around Jag’s face. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
He cupped his hands around either side of Michael’s face and dragged him down for another, longer, more heated kiss. As much as he wanted to show Michael how much he loved him, he knew his sudden desire to fuck the man was a diversion from his own thoughts, which was the last thing he needed. So he left it at the kiss, letting his hands fall away from Michael’s face as their lips parted.
“Should I get us some breakfast?” Michael asked.
Jag shook his head. “I don’t think we’re done talking, are we?”
“That’s up to you.”
Jag sighed. As much as he wanted to shove it all to one side and forget about it, he knew it wouldn’t help. He’d broken his second rule already, so there was no point in stopping. If he did, he might never start talking again. Yet he couldn’t loosen his tongue, and he realised he was already clamming up again. If he were honest with himself, he’d started to close down when he’d chosen sleep over continuing to talk. He had been exhausted, but it had also been a subconscious stalling tactic or maybe a conscious one. He wasn’t totally sure.
“Maybe breakfast would be a good idea,” he said, already hating himself for yet another display of cowardice.
“Last night… you said you’d tried to confront your problem,” Michael said, his voice soft, soothing, and patient. “Did you call your parents?”
Maybe Michael had guessed that Jag was fighting a losing battle with himself. That he wanted to tell Michael more but couldn’t drag the words out of his own throat without a little push.
“Yes, but I couldn’t speak.” He balled his hands into tight fists as he felt himself start to shake again. He was a pathetic, broken coward.
“Did they know it was you?”
“They guessed.”
Michael ran the flat of his hand over Jag’s taut stomach in a wide, comforting arc. “The ‘hospital’ they put you in… how long were you there?”
“All summer,” Jag replied bitterly. “I spent my sixteenth birthday there, watching porn and throwing up.”
Michael’s eyebrows shot up, his expression aghast. “What?”
“It was one of their ‘methods’.” Jag clenched his teeth as the memory sprang to the forefront of his mind, making nausea rise up within him. He clapped his hand over his mouth and rolled over so he was half hanging off the bed. Christ, he didn’t want to throw up at all, let alone on Michael’s pristinely clean cream carpet.
Michael rubbed his back. Slowly, the sensation eased. Even so, Jag remained where he was, just in case.
“They’d give me drugs that made me feel really sick and then put me in a room with a huge TV with gay porn playing really loudly.”
