We drink until the whisky is gone, and then Aidan asks me the question I could tell he’s been chewing over all day. “So, big brother, what’s the deal with you and Corey?”
Knowing he needs the distraction, I take a deep breath and release it. “I dunno, mate. The first time I saw him, it was like, I don’t fuckingknow. Just like… a pull? A draw to him? He’s something else, and judging by the… Well, let’s just say he’s been through it. And I don’t know. When we’ve chatted, he’s so fucking smart and-and sweet and just, fuck.”
I look up from the empty glass that had been the focus of my attention as I spoke, a faint tickle on my cheeks letting me know the tears I’ve been pushing down all day have finally spilled over. My voice is thick, the lump in my throat making it almost impossible to speak clearly.
“He’s so delicate, not just physically, and I’m fucking terrified for him. I can’t explain it. I’ve got so much going on with Nancy, but I can’t get him out of my head.”
I feel like I’m doing Corey a disservice in a lot of ways. He’s one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. To have survived what he has in his life, and still come out of it all with his positive outlook and fierce determination to get what he wants out of life? He’s incredible.
But he’s also got a lot of trauma he needs to work through. And I want nothing more than to be there for him in any and every way he’ll let me while he does.
“Tell me about it, bro,” Aidan says, bringingmy thoughts back to our conversation. “I fell for Rain the first day he was here, so I’m not one to judge. But I have to say I’m surprised. I mean, have you ever had feelings for a guy before?”
I let out a harsh laugh. The only person I ever had feelings for was Shelley, but I’ve been open to both men and women since I was fourteen and knew what bisexuality was.
“No,” I reply, my tone disbelieving, almost. “I’ve barely had feelings for anyone. Which is why this hits so fucking hard. I mean, I’ve had one-night stands or whatever” – I decide not to go into the details with my brother about the very few hook-ups I’ve had since the divorce – “but never with any feelings behind them. There’s just something about Corey. I don’t know what to tell you. I just know I’m attracted to who I’m attracted to. It’s only ever happened twice, and even with Shell, it didn’t feel like this.”
I feel better for being honest with my brother about not only my feelings for Corey, but the decidedly obvious fact that I’m not as straight as my family all assume I am.
I’ve never found it easy to share my own insecurities and worries with my family, especially my brothers. Not through any fear of them not accepting me, but because I’ve alwaysbeen convinced that, as the eldest, I should be looking after them, making their lives easier, and supporting them. So much so that I’ve never allowed myself to acknowledge that maybe I could’ve let them in more, accepted more support.
When I think of how incredible they’ve been over Nancy – the way they’ve all stepped up and helped me, supported me, in all the ways they could, which it turns out, was all the ways I needed – I realise how foolish I’ve been.
Letting Aidan in now, letting him see the worry and the confusion, and sharing more details about myself with him than I have before feels right. It feels necessary, and despite the stress and concern over Rain and Corey, wherever they are, I feel stronger just having him in my confidence.
When we can’t stay awake any longer, and the phone is stubbornly silent, we make our way upstairs. I crash in Corey’s bed, unable to drive home after the amount of whisky we consumed. Smelling his sweet vanilla scent on the bedding is a gut punch, and I fall asleep with my face pressed deeply into the pillow.
Nineteen
Corey
Being kidnapped is a surprisingly quick process. We did as we were told, like we always did before with these two. Honestly, I’d been surprised by how much the slide back into the Corey I was before hurt. It felt like a million tiny papercuts.
As I was driven back to a place I thought I’d escaped for good, I thought of the time I spent with John, being cared for indirectly and from a distance, the way Emma decided we were going to be friends and dragged me along for the ride, the way Rain reached out to me and brought me to a safe place, and the way Aidan took me into the fold of his family and his home.
And Nash. I couldn’t think about Nash and all the ways he’s helped me move forward from this scared, pathetic, weak version of myself without even knowing it, or I would have splintered completely. Just him being there, listening to me as I sorted through my thoughts over text, showing me how beautiful friendship and family can be, holding my hand as I cried, and being scared for me when I jumped from the frying pan into the fire – literally.
And yet still, despite all of that support, all of that time spent trying to be better, it all feels like a giant waste of time as I sit on the edge of the bed in Dan’s spare room staring out of the window.
He locked us in here hours ago, and ever since I heard the bolt clunk and the padlock click, the sounds muffled through the door, I’ve been sitting here with a million thoughts spiralling through my brain, and absolutely zero conclusions being made.
I jump when Rain’s sleeve touches my face, and I realise he’s sitting next to me, wiping away my tears.
“Hey,” Rain says quietly.
“Hey,” I reply, my voice shaky.
“How’re you doing?”
My tears start falling again, and I shake my head, defeat drowning me. “I really thought I’d got away. You know?” Rain wraps his arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him for a hug.
“You did, babe, you did get away. And we’re going to again if I have to die trying. And this time, we’re going to the police. They might not believe us, they might say bullshit like it’s a hazard of a gay relationship, or our reports may sit idly in an in-tray for months or whatever, but we will tell them. And we will do what we can to protect ourselves from having to deal with this shit again.” Rain squeezes my shoulders to make sure I’m hearing him.
I can barely breathe around the lump in my throat, so my voice is quiet when, after a few minutes of silence, I say, “I was really looking forward to showing Nancy that painting I did.” The tears won’t stop despite my attempts to wipe them away.
“Did you show Nash?”
“Of course. Well, I finished it and then left, and then he texted me later when he went in there. I didn’t like, do a Carol Smillie on Changing Rooms big reveal moment or anything.” He laughs at me, and the sound lightens a little ofthe weight in my chest.
