THIRTEEN
From the rock-hard bunching of muscles across Leo’s back, Morgan knew he was a live bullet, ready to explode. And he also knew he’d have only one chance to say what he wanted to Leo, so he’d better do it right.
After what he’d seen today, he finally understood why Leo was all coiled up and vibrating with tension. As a kindergarten teacher, Morgan had dealt with enough emotionally scarred children to recognize the signs. Leo was the adult manifestation of years-old verbal abuse, and it sickened him. He’d gotten a peek behind the curtain—no, the iron wall—around Leo, and it all began to make sense to him.
Morgan sat on the couch at a distance from Leo, who remained as stiff as a soldier guarding the Queen. Morgan clasped and unclasped his hands. If he couldn’t put the horrible scene from that one morning out of his mind, how could Leo function after years of being terrorized? And Leo went to visit her every weekend? A wellspring of untapped anger burst from Morgan, knowing now what Leo had gone through, alone. No wonder he locked himself away from people.
“Leo. I’m not going to lecture you that you should’ve been nicer to your mother. Not after what I saw today.”
His dark head dropped, and Morgan watched Leo slowly turn to face him. “What do you think you saw?”
If they came out of this still speaking, it would be through Morgan’s efforts, because Leo had thrown up a blockade as high as the fucking Great Wall of China and was used to handling things alone, if at all. Leo would have no trouble walking away from Morgan, but Morgan wouldn’t allow it. He couldn’t. Not anymore.
“I saw a son trying to help his mother, despite how cruel she was to him.” Morgan’s gaze locked to Leo’s. “Words hurt, sometimes as much as a physical punch.”
“Or both.” Leo flexed his hands, the pace of his breathing increasing as the seconds ticked by.
Morgan shivered, beads of sweat sliding down his back. He’d worked through all this with his therapist and had hoped never to relive his past, but here he was again. “Yes. Or both.”
That granitelike expression darkened, a muscle twitched in Leo’s jaw, but he walked away to the opposite side of the room and began to wrap his hands. Morgan had never been to a boxing match or even seen anyone fight but knew the fighters prepared their hands before they put on gloves. He had no fear that Leo would hurt him, and he watched as Leo slipped on a pair of bright-red gloves and began to jab at the standing punching bag.
Minutes passed, a lake of sweat spread across Leo’s shirt, but he continued to pound the bag, with no let-up in sight. How long could he continue? Because this was no ordinary workout. It was hard and brutal. A punishment. Leo’s sculpted arms pistoned like jackhammers, his biceps bulged, and a red flush crept up his neck to his face.
Leo was a man possessed.
Morgan waited several moments and then, shaking his head, went to the kitchen and filled up a glass with ice water. He crossed the room and stood by Leo, whose frenzied movements had begun to flag.
“Take a break. Have something to drink.”
Gasping for air, hair slick and wet, his body trembling, Leo dropped his arms to his sides, and Morgan, realizing Leo couldn’t hold the glass with the gloves on, held it to his lips. Leo’s eyes met his as he drank.
“Thank you,” he choked out, still wheezing. Morgan’s attempt to avert his eyes from Leo’s heaving chest failed miserably, but who could blame him? A fine sheen of sweat gilded the tattoos on his arms, highlighting the ink. Morgan wondered if they had any significance.
Leo gulped more water, then backed away, and using his teeth, pulled off the Velcro tabs and removed the gloves. He curled and uncurled his fingers and put the gloves down. If Morgan hoped he’d speak, he was wrong. Leo pulled off his shirt, and Morgan tried desperately to come up with some conversation to take his mind off Leo standing half-naked in front of him.
“Your parents didn’t support you when you came out?”
For the first time that day, Leo smiled, but there was no joy in the upward twist of his lips. “That little scenario you witnessed earlier didn’t give you a clue?” He finished the water. “My father died when I was eight, so he never knew. Hell, at eight I didn’t think about anything except what candy I could get at the movies or when he’d be home so we could play ball.”
White-knuckled, Leo held the glass so tightly, Morgan hoped it wouldn’t shatter and cut his hand to pieces. The man was already so broken and bleeding.
“I’m sorry.”
“He was the best man I’ve ever known. Always made time for me. We’d go to ball games and play in the backyard…” Harsh, painful breaths wracked Leo. “H-he was my hero. A year after he died, my mother remarried, and for a minute I thought maybe Robert would want to be my stepfather, but…” He bit his lip and bowed his head, shaking. The glass fell to the floor.
Without hesitation, Morgan rushed to his side, his instinct kicking in to help someone struggling. “It’s okay, Leo. You can tell me.” He laid a hand on Leo’s damp shoulder. A full-body shudder rippled through him, but Morgan held on, confident he was on the cusp of breaking through.
“Tell you what? That I hated my stepfather because he pretended in front of people to care, but when no one was around he’d call me useless or worse? That my mother didn’t give a shit about anything as long as the credit cards lasted and the money kept flowing so she could go shopping and hang out with her friends? Should I tell you how they couldn’t wait to send me away every summer, ’cause out of sight meant out of mind? Not that I waseveron their minds, except as a burden. How do we get rid of Leo? Where can we dump him?” Hot, harsh breath hit his face, and Leo grabbed his arms, fingers digging painfully into muscle and bone, but Morgan remained unblinking, his heart breaking, and faced him, nose-to-nose. “Once my father died, I wished I had too.”
Panic sheared through Morgan, and he couldn’t imagine the weight of Leo’s anguish. “Leo, no. Don’t ever say that.”
“Too late. I’ve been saying it every day for years.” Bleak despair darkened his eyes, turning them almost black, but Morgan pushed on.
“Well,I’mglad you’re here. I wouldn’t want to be any other place right now.”
“Is that so?” Leo trailed fingertips up his arm, and Morgan trembled. “Aren’t you scared of me?” A large hand settled around his nape.
“Should I be?” Morgan blurted.
