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“Still there, G?” Sven’s voice was low.
“Yeah,” Geoffrey breathed, placing a hand over the warmth gathering in his chest.
“Just listen to me for a few minutes, okay?”
“Okay,” he agreed, happy the man planned to say more than one or two cryptic sentences.
“As I said before, my family came here from Norway and we moved to a very small town. I may have lost most of the accent now, but then, I didn’t speak English well.”
“That must have been hard.”
He blew out a loud breath that rattled the door. “Plus, my family came from the southern tip of Norway and we had a slower way of talking there. I kept that habit.”
“You say this like I haven’t noticed.”
“Michiganders talk fast. But, the real problem? I was a big boy from very early on, so I stood out. Didn’t make friends. Then at puberty, I shot up over six feet. I towered over the other kids, so they, I don’t know, took that as some kind of challenge. They liked to gang up on me—thinking numbers would help in a fight. Most of the time, I didn’t give them what they wanted. My job aside, I don’t enjoy fighting. Plus, I was always wary of hurting someone. But once, when I was fourteen, the same group cornered me and things got out of hand. I was so tired of avoiding them and taking their bullshit.”
He was silent a long time and Geoffrey put his palm on the door. “What happened?” he whispered.
“I lost my temper and hit back. I have these big hands and then, I didn’t have control of my strength and didn’t really understand it. I fought and hurt several kids, but this one…I was so angry at him all the time because I knew why he instigated the mobs. Him, I punched so hard, he stumbled back and hit his head on the corner of the school building. There was a lot of blood.” His voice lowered. “He wouldn’t wake up.”
Geoffrey’s heart pounded and he held his breath as he waited to hear what happened.
“His parents were called. The kid ended up in the hospital. Concussion. In the end he was okay, but I never got over it. Neither did the people in town. I was a bully from then on. Life in that town was hell on Earth.”
“That’s not fair.” Geoffrey sat up. “Those boys goaded you for years.”
“They did. And that kid was the worst. He was a stupid punk but I also knew why he sought me out so much, why he started so many fights. I could see the way he looked at me. He knew how alike we were and he hated that about himself.”
“I’ve known lots of men like that.” Ones who had a hard time accepting they were gay. “Sven?”
“Yeah?”
“What does this have to do with me?”
“He was a smaller guy, too. I’ve been terrified of…hurting someone like that again.”
“That’s why you’re so careful with me,” Geoffrey said half under his breath. “In the class. You think I don’t know you could easily keep me from taking you down?”
“Of course I could.”
The hint of humor and cocky confidence in his tone was so welcome. And hot. But still. “Don’t sound so sure about it.” The laugh that shook the door warmed his heart and went a long way to cast out the hurt. He took a deep breath and twisted until the back of his head rested on the wood again. “Didn’t you also notice how strong I am?”
“Geoffrey, I notice everything about you.”
He shut his eyes as a tiny ball of excitement burst low in his gut. “There is no way you would or even could hurt me, Sven. I am tougher than I look and you know it. My dad made sure of that.” He chuckled. “I told you—he had me in self-defense courses the day he realized I wasn’t going to grow much more.”
“He couldn’t have known that. I shot up another six inches in my late teens.”
“Guess he was right, huh?” Geoffrey laughed. “Dad wasn’t very tall and neither was my mom. It’s amazing that Finn reached five foot nine. Six inches, huh? So you were what? Six foot one or so when you were thirteen? You should have seen me. I was a squirt in comparison.”
“You were no doubt adorable and more than likely, I would have had a major crush.”
God, he was sweet. “I doubt that very much, but thanks. Growing that fast, I bet you ate your parents out of their house.”
“All of my brothers are just as big, so they were used to it. My mother cooked huge meals that could stretch. Soups, stews, and pasta. She baked bread nearly every day. We never had store bought.” His chuckle had a winsome note. “I miss that bread so much. My days at school were rough, so coming home to that smell made everything feel better.”
