splintering apart.”
“Shhh,” Erik said against Luther’s cheek as he caressed his chin and pressed a kiss to his mouth, then he pulled away.
That was the first time Luther had allowed his words to get away from him, and he had no clue how they’d be received. He bit his lower lip so hard it almost bled while he waited to find out.
Erik breathed in deep and then released a slow and steady sigh, but there were tears in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was low and guarded but raw honesty bled through. “You’re not breaking, but you’re not ready to bend yet, either. I’m tired of hiding in the shadows. I’m tired of always being aware of who’s watching me. I’m plain old tired of hiding.”
“Me too.”
“But you’re going up there to hide some more, aren’t you? You’re not even out to your parents yet.”
“Do I have to be?”
Erik gave Luther a watery smile and nodded. “If you want to stop running and start doing more than living from job to job, fuck to fuck, then yes.”
“What we have is more than that.”
“Is it? Is it more than convenience and good timing?”
“What?” Tears blurred Luther’s vision. “It may have been that the first time, but not a day since. Not to me, at least.”
Erik shrugged. “How would I know that? You don’t ever tell me what’s going on in your head, until now, when you share all these great plans you have for yourself. And now you want me to move in with you to help you fix up your place so it can happen?”
“No. That’s not why. That’s not why at all. I want you to move in with me because… becau—” Luther’s throat closed off, words getting stuck. He gasped and swallowed thickly.
Erik licked his lips as he sat up. “See? Like now. No words. Stop hiding, stop running, and then you’ll learn how to bend. But you’ve got to do that on your own.” He squeezed Luther’s thigh, stood, and asked, “Can you give me a ride back to the motel?”
Luther nodded, setting a few tears loose. He wiped at them angrily as he headed toward the front door. The noise of his engine cut through the night, but the ride to the motel was utterly silent. When he pulled in front of Erik’s door, a group of rowdy drunk guys were loitering nearby.
“When you’re ready to be honest, call me,” Erik said, looking with resolution at the drunk men before pressing a kiss to the corner of Luther’s mouth. Erik hopped out, disappeared behind door number seventeen, and Luther felt more alone than ever.
EIGHT
P RESSURE
L UTHER UNPACKED THE scant belongings he’d moved from place to place for the last eight or nine years, easily fitting them on empty shelves in his grandma’s kitchen… in his kitchen. He had to toss decades worth of outdated bottles of pills and cosmetics from the bathroom medicine cabinet and realized he needed new towels, ones without holes.
As the days passed, he moved from room to room, pulling out memories from shelves, which pulled more from his mind of how happy he was when he spent time here as a child. Now he felt nothing. He forced himself to make decisions on what to keep and what to get rid of. If he was going to put down roots here—because God knew he was done with the oil life—he needed this place to be his. In his mind, it was still his grandparents’, despite the ink on the legal documents being dry for days.
He drove to the big city to drop off donations and buy new linens. He stopped by the lumberyard and turned in a job application. He cooked on an actual stove, something he hadn’t done in years. And each night, he stood on the dock watching the sun set as he ran over all the times he’d kept himself from sharing his feelings with Erik. This was where he’d been when words nearly burst from his lips, and he’d dropped to his knees and used sex to share his feelings instead, when Erik needed the words.
Luther stripped and jumped in the lake. He floated on his back and allowed the water to
“Shhh,” Erik said against Luther’s cheek as he caressed his chin and pressed a kiss to his mouth, then he pulled away.
That was the first time Luther had allowed his words to get away from him, and he had no clue how they’d be received. He bit his lower lip so hard it almost bled while he waited to find out.
Erik breathed in deep and then released a slow and steady sigh, but there were tears in his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was low and guarded but raw honesty bled through. “You’re not breaking, but you’re not ready to bend yet, either. I’m tired of hiding in the shadows. I’m tired of always being aware of who’s watching me. I’m plain old tired of hiding.”
“Me too.”
“But you’re going up there to hide some more, aren’t you? You’re not even out to your parents yet.”
“Do I have to be?”
Erik gave Luther a watery smile and nodded. “If you want to stop running and start doing more than living from job to job, fuck to fuck, then yes.”
“What we have is more than that.”
“Is it? Is it more than convenience and good timing?”
“What?” Tears blurred Luther’s vision. “It may have been that the first time, but not a day since. Not to me, at least.”
Erik shrugged. “How would I know that? You don’t ever tell me what’s going on in your head, until now, when you share all these great plans you have for yourself. And now you want me to move in with you to help you fix up your place so it can happen?”
“No. That’s not why. That’s not why at all. I want you to move in with me because… becau—” Luther’s throat closed off, words getting stuck. He gasped and swallowed thickly.
Erik licked his lips as he sat up. “See? Like now. No words. Stop hiding, stop running, and then you’ll learn how to bend. But you’ve got to do that on your own.” He squeezed Luther’s thigh, stood, and asked, “Can you give me a ride back to the motel?”
Luther nodded, setting a few tears loose. He wiped at them angrily as he headed toward the front door. The noise of his engine cut through the night, but the ride to the motel was utterly silent. When he pulled in front of Erik’s door, a group of rowdy drunk guys were loitering nearby.
“When you’re ready to be honest, call me,” Erik said, looking with resolution at the drunk men before pressing a kiss to the corner of Luther’s mouth. Erik hopped out, disappeared behind door number seventeen, and Luther felt more alone than ever.
EIGHT
P RESSURE
L UTHER UNPACKED THE scant belongings he’d moved from place to place for the last eight or nine years, easily fitting them on empty shelves in his grandma’s kitchen… in his kitchen. He had to toss decades worth of outdated bottles of pills and cosmetics from the bathroom medicine cabinet and realized he needed new towels, ones without holes.
As the days passed, he moved from room to room, pulling out memories from shelves, which pulled more from his mind of how happy he was when he spent time here as a child. Now he felt nothing. He forced himself to make decisions on what to keep and what to get rid of. If he was going to put down roots here—because God knew he was done with the oil life—he needed this place to be his. In his mind, it was still his grandparents’, despite the ink on the legal documents being dry for days.
He drove to the big city to drop off donations and buy new linens. He stopped by the lumberyard and turned in a job application. He cooked on an actual stove, something he hadn’t done in years. And each night, he stood on the dock watching the sun set as he ran over all the times he’d kept himself from sharing his feelings with Erik. This was where he’d been when words nearly burst from his lips, and he’d dropped to his knees and used sex to share his feelings instead, when Erik needed the words.
Luther stripped and jumped in the lake. He floated on his back and allowed the water to
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