Read Online Crossing Borders by Z. A. Maxfield - Free Book Online Page A

even though his heart was breaking. This was why he rarely dated men who weren't already openly gay, he thought briefly.
     
    “You got off with a guy—you didn't start a civil war. Nothing we did tonight is anything you haven't already done with a girl. You said it yourself, right? Different holes. You haven't been invaded, you haven't…well, you just haven't.” He closed his mouth, thinking that was probably his best option at this point. Regrets…well, they happened, didn't they?
     
    He got up to light the stove and take the chill off the air, and because it gave him something to do. It was a gas log, so all he had to do was turn a key and light it with a stick lighter. When he returned to Tristan, the boy had tears running down his face. Shit .
     
    “Oh, hey, Tristan,” he sighed. “I'm so sorry, I didn't…I shouldn't have…”
     
    “Shut up, will you? I'm having a moment here.” He burrowed back into Michael's arms, and Michael held him, his chin on Tristan's head.
     
    “I can move to the couch,” said Michael. “Or set you up in there.”
     
    “You aren't going anywhere.” Tristan tightened his hold on Michael.
     
    “Okay…well. Can we have your moment together, then? I'm in the dark here.” Michael sighed.
     
    “Sorry.” Tristan looked over at the nightstand. “Is that food?” He crawled over to take the plate and a bottle of water. He rearranged the pillows and sat with his back to the headboard, still wrapped in the blankets. Holding out the second bottle of water, he motioned Michael over. Warily, Michael came to him, sitting next to Tristan, their shoulders touching. Tristan smiled at him around a piece of sharp cheddar cheese, and he was reminded why he'd taken a chance with him in the first place.
     
    “”What's going on in that head of yours, and how can I help?” he said finally, giving in to the urge to take a couple of carrots and some celery for himself.
     
    “Didn't you have a moment?” Tristan asked him. “Didn't it all yawn out widely before you that the path you chose was leading you someplace completely foreign?” This time he staked claim to a bite of salami. “If I eat this, will you still kiss me?”
     
    Michael snorted. “Yep.”
     
    “So, anyway, I'm thinking, okay, there goes the wedding, the kids, the grandkids, and most of the public displays of affection. There goes that shot at socially sanctioned relationships, married filing jointly, being a soccer dad, watching my babies get born.” His eyes glistened with tears that began to fall just as he said the word babies. “I saw my little brothers get born.”
     
    Michael put an arm around him. “It doesn't have to mean anything, Sparky. It's just one night.”
     
    “But it does mean something. That's why it was so… This didn't happen to you?” he asked again, his beautiful blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears.
     
    “You mean, like, did I all of a sudden realize there goes my seventy-fifth wedding anniversary shout-out from Willard Scott?”
     
    Tristan made a disgusting noise and snagged another piece of salami. “Well, did it? Happen to you?”
     
    “Not all at once, no,” said Michael, thinking back. “I doubt I ever did anything as…suddenly as you seem to. I have to say, I think you may be smarter than me. You think more moves ahead. Plus, I grew up in an unconventional family.”
     
    “Ah,” said Tristan. “I see.” The silence between them lengthened, during which they heard only the hissing and crackling of the gas log.
     
    Tristan turned to him suddenly. “I'll never be sorry, ever,” he said simply.
     
    Michael listened to what Tristan said and tried to understand its meaning. He took a long, slow swallow of water. “I guess when you want me to know what that means, you'll tell me.”
     
    Tristan's hand smoothed over the column of Michael's throat before resting lightly on his Adam's apple. It fluttered there briefly and then slid down to caress a shoulder. “Can