Page 67 of Coming Clean

“Sure.”

The smile Jeremy gave himwas worth taking any risk for. “Great. We can walk around theneighborhood a bit and then end up on Haywood. There’s a great icecream shop just down from the park.”

Connor dropped his feetfrom where he’d had them propped on a storage bench. His stomachfluttered, but he was going to do this. He was safe here. Mostpeople in this neighborhood wouldn’t think twice about two menbeing together. And they weren’t going to announce that it was adate. But Connor felt like everyone would know.

Because when you look atJeremy, you see the man you love.

I don’t—

You do.

Would Mario know if he sawthem together? Was it that obvious?

I need to tellhim.

Eventually. For now, allyou need to do is go out in public with Jeremy.

They walked through theneighborhood side by side but not touching. An awkwardness hungheavy between them, even though they talked pleasantly, observingpeople’s dogs and cats and how damn hot it was—Connor had becomesuch a fucking wimp about the heat.

Was Jeremy hoping somethingwould happen? Did he want Connor to hold his hand, to kiss him, toshow how open he was? What?

Ask him.

Hell no.

He wanted to turn aroundand go back to Jeremy’s house, but he wouldn’t. He would see thisthrough.

Fucking fags. Shouldn’tlet ‘em in the Marines. Dammit, whydid Mario’s words have to intrude on him now? Connor had been adamn fine Marine, and Mario knew that. But if Connor confessed thathe was going out with a man, that he’d never liked women, would iterase all that he’d done in Mario’s eyes? Would Mario ever respecthim again? Why did his opinion matter so much? He’d stayed in thedesert, lost inside his head, hoping to atone for something thatwasn’t his fault. Jeremy was right here, and he wanted Connor. Whyshould Connor give that up?

They turned onto Haywoodand walked few more blocks until they reached Isadora’s Ice Cream.Connor had driven passed the brightly-colored, art deco-inspiredshop plenty of times. Most evenings, there was a crowd millingaround outside, either waiting in a long line or happily lickingice-cream cones on the front porch or at one of the tables in thegrassy area in front of the shop. He’d never stopped though. He betJeremy had been there often. Jeremy probably felt right at homeamong the hippies, hipsters, and other oddly dressed Ashevillians.The place made Connor feel stodgy and unimaginative.

Jeremy grabbed Connor’sarm—the first physical contact they’d had since leaving thehouse—and pulled him into the line. Connor wondered what peoplethought about him being there with Jeremy—not because they weremen, but because they were so obviously opposites. Jeremy was soft,artistic, and delicate, and Connor looked like what he was. AMarine.

“Do they have regular icecream here?” Connor asked.

Snickering, Jeremy raised abrow. “You mean like all-American vanilla?”

“I eat chocolate too, andsometimes I’m really crazy and go for strawberry.” Connor rolledhis eyes. “I meantsomething not made with goat’s milk or chia seedsor shit.”

Jeremy laughed. “Yeah, theydo.”

“Good.” Connor didn’t sayanything else, and the silence between them lengthened intounease.

“We could go somewhereelse,” Jeremy suggested.

“No, I’m good.” Connorlooked around saw and a man eyeing Jeremy. Hell, no. Jeremy was his.Without Connor even realizing it, years of self-protectionevaporated in the face of a primitive desire to claim Jeremy ashis. He reached out and took Jeremy’s hand, lacing their fingers.Jeremy stiffened at first but then relaxed and looked up at Connor,his expression questioning.

“Is this okay?” Connorasked.

Jeremy smiled.“Very”

“Okay then.”

Jeremy squeezed Connor’shand and warmth spread through him. He looked around. No one seemedto have noticed, including the hot guy who’d been checking Jeremyout. He was now swapping spit with a tattooed guy who was holding aguitar. That’s right, asshole. Find itsomewhere else.

Connor took a deep breathand smiled at Jeremy. “Thanks.”

“You’rewelcome.”