On closer inspection, the man who’d I thought looked like Quinn wasn’t even close to the real thing. He paled in comparison in every way possible.
Quinn’s hair was sexier, more passionate if that were even a thing. He’d let it grow much longer than it ever was when we were kids. It hit the middle of his neck, but it was long enough for him to have to pull it back out of his eyes in asmall bun. My fingers instantly itched to be tangled in its wavy length. And his eyes, fucking hell. They were a more vibrant shade of blue than I ever remembered, almost like something out of an ad for a tropical vacation. And though they both had similar builds, there was something about Quinn’s that made him sexier, more sinful, impossible to resist.
The longer I stood there, listening tothe incessant droning of my brother and parents, the more I realized how much I despised having to be here. Considering what they told me that night, they had to have an idea of why I never came home. They knew the secret they had kept from me my entire life. But they didn’t know the depths of Patrick’s maliciousness, of how he used the news they’d just shared with us against me. Of how he beat mebecause I was gay. Just standing next to him, my skin crawled. So even though they had to know they were part of the reason I’d never come home, they had no clue what happened between me and Patrick. So even though the strain on our relationship played a role in my disappearance, Patrick was the main reason I never returned.
Bits ofthatnight flashed through my head, keeping me mute among thecrowd of people milling about us.
Fag.
You love him?
Mom and Dad will hate you.
You disgust me.
“Are you okay, sweetie?” Mom chimed in, pulling me away from that dreadful flashback. It was still so difficult for me to rationalize the gray, depressive state of my teenage years and how they treated me then compared to how they treated me now. It took me years and hundreds of miles to make peacewith my past as far as my parents were concerned.
But the seething hatred I had always felt for Patrick was still there, alive and well, burning in my chest. It would consume me, if I let it.
“Yeah, sure, Mom. I just, uh,” I stammered. Looking down at my empty hands, I lied. “Just need to get a drink. It’s been a long day.”
Every step toward the kitchen felt like an eternity.
Old habits diehard.
“Ryan!” Annie, Quinn’s mom, opened her arms as she walked toward me. “It’s so good to see you! Get over here.” When she hugged me, I felt like I was home, more so than I felt greeting my own parents. “You look so grown up. So handsome,” she complimented, patting her hand on my face. There was sadness in her eyes and in that instant, I wondered how much Quinn had told her.
As if she’d readmy mind, she tipped her head toward the back door, saying, “He’s out there.” She patted my back, encouraging me to take that first step. “I’ll keep your parents out of the way.” That line said it all; he’d told her everything. Sadness in her eyes mixed with something that looked a lot like hope. I’d forgotten how much I’d truly loved being in this house, with these people.
Loving their son.
Get that shit out of your head,Ryan. Internally, I chastised myself for allowing my brain to go somewhere I vowed never to go again. I left here for a reason, and while I might be here for this weekend, for this stupid fucking wedding, I knew on Monday I would have to leave and never look back. Just like I’d done twelve years ago.
Despite my own warnings to myself, I slid open the glass doorand stepped over the threshold. Just as I’d suspected, he was sitting on the edge of the dock. He’d rolled his pants up revealing the muscular curve of his calf. Though he didn’t turn around, his body became rigid, straightening as my steps sounded out.
Every step I took toward him was just as painful as the ones I took walking away from him all those years ago. And if possible, these hurt evenmore. Because as much as I wanted to take him in my arms and say all the apologies, and beg and plead with him to forgive me, I knew I couldn’t do any of those things.
With less than a foot between us, I’d entirely forgotten whatever I thought I was going to say to him, all courage and strength vanishing like the fog billowing off the water before us.
“You came back,” he spoke quietly, keepinghis focus on the barely rippling water. “I thought I’d never see you again.”
The hoarse sincerity in his voice nearly split me in two. It was the same voice playing back on my voice mail, begging me to call him back, to explain to him why I was so mad at him, why I had left without saying goodbye to him.
It was a cruel mind game on Patrick’s part to mail me my phone after I left it at home.He knew I loved Quinn. He knew the voice mails were there. He’d read the texts and the ones he wrote back were horribly mean and cruel. The fact that he needed me to see them further solidified why I’d never come home. So even though I heard the pain in Quinn’s voice and I could imagine the tears streaming down his face, I’d had to walk away and leave him behind.
“It wasn’t my plan.” Of all thepossible combinations of words to tumble out of my mouth, it had to be that one. Instantly, I hated myself even more than I already did, if that were even possible. But I stayed strong and kept up the façade I knew would save us both from breaking our hearts all over again. “I just wanted to let you know I was leaving on Monday. I wanted to come out here and just, uh,” I stumbled over my words,my resolve breaking by the second. “Uh, that, well I just wanted to let you know I wasn’t staying so that we could both get through the weekend without wondering about anything.”
Figuring he wasn’t going to say anything, I turned around, not that I deserved a minute of his time. He hated me, that much was true, but it wasn’t nearly as much as I hated myself.
And that hatred had to fuel me, becauseif I let any softness into my heart, I would break down and… and… well, for fuck’s sake, I had no clue what would happen, but I knew if I opened myself back up to the possibility of Quinn, I wouldn’t be able to stand the reality of not having him.
I stood there a moment longer, waiting for who the hell knew what. My gut twisted in the most complicated knot ever when he grabbed his shoes, stood,and turned toward me. Standing no more than a few inches in front of me, his scent intoxicated me more than the drink I’d lied about needing to get ever would have. He took a deep breath, his exhale shaky and so incredibly vulnerable my fingers itched to touch the light dusting of dark red hair on his jaw. “I wish you’d stay. I always wished you would’ve stayed.” His words crushed my soul.
Withoutsaying another word, he pushed past me, certain not to let his arm brush mine.
But even just the air that he’d touched moving over my skin was enough to make me want him more than I already did.
Yet once again, I knew giving into my urges would be pointless. No one here knew I was gay. I laughed because I knew that was a lame excuse. Quinn and Sarah knew. His mom most certainly knew. Patrickknew, and hated my very existence because of it. The harsh reality I had to face was that no one here cared.
That thought sent a knife through my heart, mostly because it was the damn truth. Yet here I was, a fucking good guy to a fault, showing up for the asshole brother’s wedding who wouldn’t even notice if I went missing right now.
Not wanting to go down that path, I pulled out my phone,resolving to get on the next flight out of bum fuck North Carolina tonight.
Small towns came with small airports and the next flight wasn’t until tomorrow afternoon. So rather than high-tailing it out of here, I decided on the next best thing—downing a few drinks and numbing myself to the pain burning in my chest.
