“I’m not the one living in sin.”
“Insin?” I laugh humorlessly. “Seriously? You honestly believe that fucked-up nonsense?”
“It’s unnatural. Homosexuality is aperversion,” she spits, reaching for the golden cross at her throat, almost like she’s warding herself against evil. Only, I’ve never seen her face look so ugly. Maybe I shouldn’t be so surprised, given how prevalently she’s displayed the faith symbol, but I'm shocked. How did I miss this unforgiving nature beneath her bubbly, charming surface?
“If you genuinely believe that, then we don’t have anything left to discuss,” I say, the words sounding calmer than I feel.
“It’s wrong, Ethan,” she defends, her voice trembling slightly with her conviction.
“There is nothing wrong with what I’m doing, but I won’t waste my breath trying to convince you of that. It’s not my job to educate the willfully ignorant. But if I’d known you were this backward in your thinking, Iabsolutelywould never have asked you out in the first place.”
Chrissy releases a startled gasp and puts her hand to her chest as if she’s been truly scandalized. “As if I could ever be interested in a fucking cocksucker like you.”
I flinch involuntarily at its sharpness.
This conversation isn’t going anywhere productive, and I’m hyper-aware of Luke trembling on the bench beside me. I sigh, looking out at the parking lot and the dark, empty country landscape beyond it, feeling a mix of rage and sadness swirling inside my chest.
Deep down, I knew this kind of reaction was inevitable in a town like this—I would have expected it from someone at workway before I could have imagined it coming fromChrissy, of all people—but I guess I had always hoped I wouldn’t live to see it firsthand. Now that I have, I don’t exactly know how to feel about it. Angry? Hurt? Disappointed.
Ultimately, I must accept this as my reality. As shocking as it is, I can’t change it.
“Luke,” I say softly, squeezing his hand where it’s still firmly in mine. “Let's go.”
He looks up at me slowly, his expression numb, but he lets me help him off the bench.
I turn back to Chrissy as we move away, giving her one last somber look. “I truly hope you find someone who can love your ugly heart,” I say, and only then does her expression seem to crumble into something close to regret. But for what, I can’t exactly say. I don’t stick around to contemplate it.
As Luke and I head toward our trucks at the end of the lot, I send Marcus a quick text apologizing for dipping and ask him to pick up our tabs. I’m grateful he doesn’t question why.
Vaguely, I’m aware of the real possibility that Chrissy might go back in and share what she’s discovered with everyone, but for now, that’s the least of my concerns as I focus on getting Luke as far away from here as possible.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Rivals and Despair
Lukeagreestomeetme at my house without any resistance, but he’s eerily quiet and reserved as he follows me inside. It’s unnerving how he just stands in the foyer, staring blankly into space. He’s so zoned out that it’s like looking at a house with all the lights on, but nobody’s home. He only follows me upstairs when I physically lead him by the hand.
I’ve never seen him so despondent and withdrawn—that’s normally been my thing—but it’s making me anxious on top of my already fraying nerves. Still, I take my time to properly clean the cuts on his lip and neck while he sits on the bathroom counter, and he doesn’t fight me or push back. He hardly reacts to the rubbing alcohol on his wounds.
I’m unsure what to say to him—how to help him through his disquiet. My own thoughts are numb and muted, still processing.
At one point, when I finally glance up, I’m surprised to find him staring at me, his eyes searching my face with quiet intensity. It lights a fire in my soul at the helplessness I find there.
“Why are you being so kind to me?” he asks, his voice low.
“What sort of question is that?” I frown, my lips curling into an incredulous smile.
Luke doesn’t back down, his stare unwavering. “I’m serious.”
“Why would I be anything but kind to you, Luke?” I cup my hand to the side of his cheek. “Why would you deserve anything less?”
Luke shakes his head, and I can see how his lower lip trembles with an onset of tears brimming. A well of emotion is hiding beneath the surface of his composed façade, being held at bay by sheer determination, but he can’t keep it from his eyes. Awe, regret, uncertainty, anger, shame, misery… I can see how he wars with himself through all of them.
Intuitively, I know he feels that what happened with Chrissy is his fault. I can imagine how he’s probably berating himself, thinking he failed to uphold his promises to keep me safe. It’s precisely how I would have viewed things if the roles were reversed. But I don’t have those same concerns right now.
“None of this is your fault, Luke,” I assure him quietly, leaning forward until our heads are pressed together. His forehead scrunches with anguish against mine, and I spot two or three rogue tears fall onto his hands on his lap. I gently brush my hand along his skin, wiping them away. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Luke blubbers out. “I knew where we were, the risk we were taking….”
