“Hey,” Samson murmured. “I’m leaving soon, and I wanted to say goodbye.” He looked past Mickey and spotted Marcus lying on the bed, his back to the door. “And maybe talk to you for a minute, if that’s okay?”
Mickey nodded and stepped back, inviting him in.
“Marcus . . .” Mickey went to the bed. “Samson is here.”
Marcus didn’t respond, though Samson was sure he was awake. His suspicions were confirmed when Marcus shifted and sniffed, pressing his face into his pillow.
Mickey sat on the edge of the bed, a tightness around his eyes.
“I need to know what I did to upset you,” Samson said. “I can’t go until you tell me. I can’t leave it like this between us.” He gazed imploringly at Mickey. “Please, Mickey . . .”
“I . . .”
“No,” Marcus whimpered into his pillow. “Don’t, Mickey.”
“Marcus.” Samson approached the bed. “Please, baby, tell me what I did.”
Marcus trembled, his voice thick with tears. “Don’t call me baby.”
“You said you liked it when I did.”
Marcus shook his head as a quiet sob caught in his throat.
“Mickey . . .” Samson sank to one knee before the other boy and took his hand. “Please talk to me. Why is he upset with me? Let me fix it.”
Tears welled in Mickey’s eyes. “He isn’t upset with you. There’s nothing to fix.”
“It feels like there is.” He squeezed the boy’s hand affectionately. “Why can’t you just tell me? I’ll understand. No matter what it is, I won’t be upset.”
Mickey wanted to tell him, it was written all over his face—but he wouldn’t do so without Marcus’ permission.
“It’s . . . it’s best if you don’t know,” Mickey whispered. “Really, it is.” He swallowed thickly and blinked back his tears. “It-it might make you feel bad, and we don’t want to make you feel bad.”
Samson shook his head. “I’m sure I can handle it.” He smiled small. “Even if you tell me I was a horrible lover, I’ll suck it up and deal with it.”
“No,” Mickey whispered and touched his face,thatlook seeping back into his eyes—the look that jolted Samson to the core. “You were perfect. The best.”
“That’s good to know.” He kissed the boy’s hand. “But I need to know the other, too.”
Mickey’s chin trembled. “If I told you . . . you would wish you didn’t know.”
Sighing softly, Samson stood up. “I don’t think I would, but if you feel this strongly about not telling me, then I won’t pressure you. But I already feel bad, because somehow, I’ve made you boys feel bad. And I don’t want that.”
“You didn’t make us feel bad,” Mickey said thickly. He stood and hugged Samson. “Not at all.”
Samson held him and gazed at Marcus on the bed. “I wish I could believe that.” He lifted Mickey’s face and kissed him softly on the mouth. Then kissed him again. “Give one of those to Marcus for me.” His throat tightened without warning and eyes stung. “Goodbye Marcus,” he murmured with a strain of emotion. “I’ll never forget you boys. You’ll always be special to me.”
Marcus trembled with silent sobs.
Fissures cut through Samson’s heart. He’d never had anyone get to him this quickly . . . or this deeply. But what could he do? The boys wouldn’t tell him what was wrong.
“Goodbye, Mickey.” He swallowed past the lump in his throat and kissed the boy again. Mickey grabbed onto him, drawing out the kiss as tears slipped free and rolled down his cheeks.
“Goodbye, Samson,” Mickey choked and stepped back, his throat working.
What else was there to say? It seemed like there should be more, but the words evaded him.
Samson turned away as a sob escaped Mickey.
