“Why?”
“It’s a long story, but I just can’t,” I say. I told Porter and Seymour about Mik, but I never found the guts to tell them what his dad did. “I walked away, but he chased me. We argued, and then he looked at me, and suddenly I was right back there, you know? We were kids, and I wanted him so much. Next thing, he’s on me.” I let out a breath. “I didn’t stop him. I’m sorry.”
I can’t turn to face Seymour because I’m so ashamed. I’m ashamed I kissed another man that wasn’t Porter. I’m ashamed I gave in to Mik.
“Are you sorry because you feel you somehow betrayed my brother’s memory? Or are you sorry because you liked it?”
His voice is far too gentle, and I don’t deserve it.
“Both,” I confess.
Seymour stands and comes closer.
“You loved my brother.”
“Yes.”
“It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. The reason I’m here is to help you face the grief you still struggle with and move on. You loved Porter as much as your heart was capable of. I also know that, for some reason, Mik is an unfinished chapter in your life. It doesn’t take away from how you felt about Porter.”
I look into his eyes. The same as his brother’s. I could be looking into Porter’s eyes right now, and they’d look back at me in the exact same way.
“Ty, it’s okay if you liked it. God knows I have plenty of exes I’d kiss first and punch later.”
Seymour doesn’t refuse my hug or try to break it when I hold him tighter.
“You’re such a good man, such a good friend. I don’t deserve someone like you.”
I can tell he wants to argue, but he doesn’t, which proves how good he is.
“I’m sorry I don’t spend more time with you,” I say.
“I know it’s hard for you.”
“Maybe if you got a face transplant?”
He laughs. “No way, this face is all I have going for me.”
“Your ass isn’t half bad,” I joke.
“I know.”
I step out of his embrace. Our relationship has always been so easy. Sometimes I fear I’ve taken his friendship for granted.
“Do you think Mik has anything to do with the donation?” he asks. “Didn’t you say he turned up at the soup kitchen?”
The thought had crossed my mind, but why would he do it? How does he know I run the soup kitchen? Has he been looking for me? Then a darker thought comes to my head.
His dad.
“Yeah, he said he was sheltering from the rain. It was pouring, so I believed him, but why would he be in Stillwater? There are no concerts at this time of year, so there is no reason for him to be here.”
“You think he searched for you?”
I stare at the wall past Seymour.
Could Mik be looking for me? But why?
“I don’t know. I haven’t seen him…in years. You know, since the concert.”
