“Micah.” This time he didn’t pull away when I touched his leg. “I’m so sorry.”
“Why?” he snapped, showing signs of the man he was when he first arrived here. I wasn’t foolish enough to think that version of Micah was gone and forgotten, but he’d been so happy in the last few days, I had hoped I’d done something to at least help him ease those demons. “Because I’m such a fuckup I can’t even set foot on the fucking sand without losing my mind?” His words were an equal mixture of sarcasm and anger, his face contorting under the pain of memories I was glad I couldn’t envision.
“No,” I answered, keeping my voice as calm and loving as I could, even though I hated every single drop of self-loathing coming out of his mouth. After taking a deep breath of my own, I continued, “I’m sorry because I took you here without knowing. Because I promised myself when you came back into my life, I’d never do anything to hurt you. I’d never lie to you or mislead you. I promised myself I would do everything to make you understand how much I loved you and here I am, bringing you to the one place you can’t stand to be. I’m sorry because I love you and I hurt you.”
Finally pulling his gaze away from the miles of sand stretching out in front of us, he twisted in his spot, looking right at me. “You couldn’t have known.” He took a long pause, seeming as if he was stuck on some far-off thought before adding, “I never told you. There’s so much I haven’t told you,” he choked out before hanging his head in his hands, crying through the unimaginable pain. “So fucking much,” he garbled through his crying.
“Hey,” I soothed, pulling him into my arms, letting his tears fall on my willing shoulders. “It’s okay. Everything is going to be okay. We have all the time in the world for you to tell me everything you need to.”
We sat like that, huddled together in the parking lot of the beach where the boats were docked, watching them bob in the swells of the waves we most definitely wouldn’t be sailing through. It took him a long time to gather his emotions, but when he finally did, we moved back into the car where the air conditioner blasted us with some much-needed icy air.
Hoping to cut the silence, I joked, “Since the beach clearly isn’t an option . . .” I paused, waggling my eyebrows playfully at him. “What would you like to do?” The afternoon hours were dwindling away, and it wouldn’t be long before we’d end up at home making nothing of our time.
“Honestly?”
It was a rhetorical question, but I still answered. “Anything you want, just say the words.”
Still wary, he focused his attention out the window, only returning it to me when I reached for his hand. “All I want is to spend my time with you. Dinner. A few drinks. Make love in our bed later. Wake up to the sun warming our room.”
What he said may have been mundane to most people, but for me it was an exceptional sentence.
It wasourbed.
It wasourhouse.
So even though there was still so much to talk about, I didn’t say another word as I pulled out of the lot. Pushing down the way I hated myself for trying to do something over the top for him, I swallowed my pride and asked, “Steaks and beer?” It was pretty much all he’d eaten since he’d been here, but it was Texas, after all.
“Yes,” he said, his voice returning to a calmer tone, his eyes coming back to life, and his body relaxing.
Within a few minutes, we arrived at the town’s best steakhouse. It was a casual place, nothing too upscale and that was what made it the place to be.
That and a killer ribeye.
It was far earlier than I planned on coming here, but our setback at the beach and the detour home to drop off Sarge had moved our plans up quite a bit. So rather than dining with a crowd more in line with our generation, we were sprinkled in with the few stragglers who’d missed the early bird special, the ones who drink coffee with their salads, and with the families showing up before it got too late for the kids.
“Have you ever been here before?” Micah asked. Looking everywhere but the menu in front of him, I could tell he was distracted.
Laughing around the lip of my glass of water, I pulled down his menu, exposing his eyes. He looked nervous, anxious, almost like he did earlier at the beach. “No.” He put his menu down on the table. “I mean I have, but not on a date. Dad and I have come once or twice.” After taking another sip of water, I asked, “Would you be jealous?” He eyed me, trying to play it off as if I hadn’t just hit the nail on the head. “If I had come here with someone else?” I clarified, even though I obviously didn’t need to.
With his glass poised against his lips, he considered my question. “That’s why you think I asked?” He chuckled and then took a sip, sounding as if he was returning to himself. Though after the afternoon we’d just shared,himselfwas a relative term. There was clearly a lot I didn’t know about him.
“Why else?” I glanced down at my menu as if I needed to figure out what I wanted.
“Because I want to know whether it’s safe?”
“Like for food poisoning?”
He laughed at my answer, nearly spitting his water across the table. “No, you ass. I mean, like for the two of us to be here. On a date. As a couple.”
I was so focused on him calling us a couple I nearly missed the point of his question. But as I smiled at him, I felt all the eyes in the room on us. Of course they weren’t, but for some stupid reason, I hadn’t thought about it. “Uh, yeah, sure.” I sounded about as certain as the weather on the plains in tornado season.
“Real believable,” he countered, returning his attention to the menu with more than a touch of anger in his voice. “Look, let’s just get dinner and get out of here.” Pitching his voice low, he barely lifted his eyes to meet mine.
“Micah.” Not willing to let anyone else dictate what I wanted any longer, I reached for his hand across the table. Thankfully, he didn’t pull back, which surprised me more than anything. “I’m not afraid to be seen with you. I promise,” I spoke the words, hoping he knew I meant every ounce of what I’d said. “I just never thought about it, that’s all. I swear.”
“Then you’re not ashamed to be seen with me?” His question was full of doubt and pain. “And this?” he added, holding up his metal arm, wiggling his fingers back and forth.
“Are you kidding me?” Squeezing his hand tighter, I hoped to convey the certainty of my feelings with a simple touch. “I will never be ashamed to be seen with you.”
