He slid his hand to mine across the table. “It’s okay, baby boy. You can tell me anything. I don’t judge.”
A nervous chill shuddered through me as he stroked my knuckles with his thumb. My instinct was to hide and protect myself, but I’d done that for years and it had left me lonely. “My mother was…neglectful. I don't know who my father is, and the state was unable to find him. I lived with my aunt for a few years before she died, then I was placed into foster care.”
His jaw ticked and he leaned in to kiss my hand. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me that.”
I thought it was strange he was thanking me, but it was nice having someone to tell those kinds of things to as if he were a gilded chest I could put all my bad experiences into to be locked away and protected.
I shrugged, wanting to pull away from him. Instead I did another brave thing and squeezed his hand. “I loved my Aunt Gracie. She showed me that love does exist. I wish I could have spent more time with her.”
“It does, baby boy. I’m privileged and grew up surrounded by my parents' love for each other. I’m sorry youdidn’t get that and it’s not your fault.” He pulled in a deep breath, his eyes glassy. “I’m going to spoil you rotten now, you know that?”
“You already do,” I said and tossed him a heated look.
He chuckled. “I’m just getting started.”
“Tell me something random about yourself,” I said. I enjoyed talking about us, even if it were a bit painful.
“Something random? Hm, I like the smell of Play-Doh.”
“Okay, yeah, that is completely random.”
“Oh, how about… When I was eleven, I developed a habit of walking over to the closest Walmart and staring at the men’s underwear section. All those toned and nearly naked bodies was the beginning of my sexuality. One of the managers that knew my father called him to make sure I was okay when I showed up the fourth day in a row.” He laughed uneasily and dragged his hand through his hair. “I guess they thought I might be stealing or something. It wasn’t until I came out to my father some years ago that I told him why I’d been going there. Anyway…random, right?”
I bit my tongue, searching for something to tell him. “I…I’ve never driven a car.”
He frowned and I saw a plan forming in his eyes. “There was an empty field a few miles back. Want to take my car for a spin?”
“What? No. I wouldn’t even know what to do—” he was already slipping out of the booth before I could finish.
We ended up in that field, with me behind the wheel of his Bond car. My heart was pounding as he pointed out all the gadgets and gizmos that made the vehicle work. I had trouble absorbing anything he was saying because I was freaking out.It’s just a car, not an airplane.
“I don’t know if I can do this. What if I drive us into a ditch?” I said.
“No ditches around here,” he countered. “Okay, foot on break and shift it into drive. You can do this, baby boy.”
His faith in me made me want to try and I followed his directions. As I eased off the brake the car started rolling forward and I smiled at him. His own grin was beautiful, his dimple deepening.
“First rule of driving? Watch the road,” he said with a laugh.
“Right!” I snapped my attention in front of me.
We went around in circles at ten miles an hour. He turned on the radio, U2 blaring. He rolled the window down, letting in chilly, fresh air as if we were cruising down the highway in summer. We went nowhere fast, but I felt as if something inside of me had taken off. It was a joy for life in general. For the majority of my life I’d been existing and surviving but never fully living. The tiny sparks of happiness in my life, like Maria and the kids had been overshadowed by the pain of my past. As Gabriel smiled and laughed, I made a promise to myself: I would keep these little moments of happiness next to my heart so that no matter how alone and hopeless I might feel, I’d always have them.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
GABRIEL
“You know why I'm calling, buddy,” Jank said through the phone. “It’s that time of the month again.”
“Have I ever told you how funny I find it that a straight guy organizes a gay bar crawl every month?” I teased.
“Yes, every time I call. You need some new material because it’s getting old,” he said, his tone light.
“Hm, I’m sure I can think of something,” I said in a sing-song voice. It was my opinion, and the opinion of my circle of friends, that Jank and his best friend, Mike, were in love, they just didn’t know it. Watching those two finish each other’s sentences was a show of immense entertainment. “When?”
“Tonight.”
“Not much notice. Maybe. I might be bringing a plus one.” I scratched my chin and noted the time. Lunch was quickly becoming the favorite part of my day, superseded by the evening when I got Jake in bed.
