Heat flushed his cheeks as cold flowed through the rest of him. A bet. He’d angered his stepfather, hurt his mother, and left home because some jerk made a bet on Mike being an easy fuck?
Braying laughter trailed Mike back to the Bronco.
Keith never cared. He’d only used Mike. To think, Mike would have done anything for him, would have let him…
Win twenty bucks.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Never again. If anyone used someone else, it’d be Mike from now on. But no, that wasn’t him. He could never treat someone so badly.
He didn’t stop crying until he approached the “Welcome to New Mexico” sign. This was it. Once he crossed the state line, he wouldn’t be recrossing for a long time—if ever. Mike forced his posture straighter in the seat, pressed his foot more firmly against the gas pedal, and took a deep breath.
Heart hammering, he left his childhood behind. He didn’t breathe easier until Texas formed a faint image in his rearview mirror.
The person he’d counted on didn’t even care.“And that’s my problem, why?”replayed over and over in Mike’s mind, mocking him, forcing him to put distance between himself and shame.
He’d come out to his family and they’d thought him broken. With no friends to speak of, he was on his own.
For the first time in his life. Hell, except for Bible camp, he’d never even spent a night away from home since his dad died.
With no idea where to go, he drove, and drove, and drove, stopping only to fill the gas tank, and spend some of his precious savings for a bite to eat.
When his strength gave out, he pulled over at a rest stop, and for the first time in his life, didn’t pray before he went to sleep.
* * *
Mike woke the next morning in the Bronco with a stiff neck from sleeping slumped over in the front seat. What had he done? He’d left his home, his family, his school.
The guy he’d thought loved him. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Keith, naked and pumping into another man’s body.
The first guy he’d kissed. The one he considered his boyfriend. The one he’d hoped would be his first.
He’d lost everything dear to him in a matter of minutes.
Well, not everything. He still had himself.
He reached way under the seat, feeling his way to the little hidey-hole he’d made, and pulled out his yard sale iPod.
Mike hooked the gadget into the Bronco’s stereo and closed his eyes. The lead singer’s voice swept down his spine like a caress, leaving behind goose bumps. The bass thumped low beneath the melody, from a left-handed bassist like himself.
Killian and Elliot Desmond, who produced music his stepfather forbade, but that spoke to his heart.
“You don’t need me
You don’t need anyone
You’ve got you
You’ve got you
Lovers come and lovers go,
Taking all that they can get
Leave you bruised and leave you bleeding
’Til you wish you’d never met
They sink their claws into your ego
