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“Thom? MacLeod?”

“Yeah.”

“What did he do?” he asks with insistence.

I look down. “Nothing. He just bullied me, that’s all.”

His voice gets louder. “He bullied you? Like how?”

I’m annoyed I even have to talk about this after just losing my virginity. “Just stupid shit, like, he pushed me around a lot. You know, punching me, kicking me, and once he spat in my food and made me eat it.”

Lucien’s voice is even louder now, and I can feel his eyes on me, burning with something fierce. “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

I fix my eyes on the duvet.

“Tell you? Why would I tell you? You attacked me every chance you could when we were on the field. You scared the shit out of me. You were the last person I would have gone to… Besides, you probably would have laughed in my face. Or maybe you would have joined in? I don’t know… You were different back then.”

We sit in awkward silence. I’m afraid to lift my eyes.

When I finally do, Lucien bites his lip while tears stream out of his eyes.

He tries to talk, but it comes out fragmented. “I’m sorry⁠—”

This is not the reaction I expected. I immediately crawl on top of him and wipe his tears, trying to comfort him. I kiss his cheeks, tasting the salt of his tears.

“No, it’s okay,” I tell him. “We’re here now. That’s what matters.”

He’s still crying, but it’s starting to subside.

“You saved me, remember? You’re still my angel.”

He wraps his arms around me and breathes into my hair. I bury my face in his neck, and we stay like that until our breathing settles. I want to stop time, to extend this moment and make up for the time we lost.

His body relaxes as he drifts off to sleep, and I settle beside him, ready to fall asleep too.

My last thought is: I love him.

26

LUCIEN

The canopy of trees closes overhead as I steer the Range Rover down the half-mile drive to the house. Spanish moss hangs from the branches, muting the harsh afternoon light. The road is familiar. I’ve driven it every winter since I was a kid. But with Cameron in the car, it feels different.

It’s like we’ve been distilled. The layers of lies between us extracted. Leaving only the essential, honest core.

Last night keeps replaying in my head. Not the sex. Though, God, that was everything I’d waited years for. The sounds he made and how his body opened for me, trusting me completely. I’ll always have that.

But I can’t stop thinking about how Thom MacLeod hurt him, and I had no idea.

All those years at St. Silas, I watched him and made sure no one got too close. I thought I was protecting him. I thought my presence on the field, my aggression, was keeping him safe from predators in some fucked-up way. Like I was claiming him so no one else would touch him.

But I wasn’t protecting him at all.

I was just another person hurting him.

How could I have missed it?

I feel Cameron turn toward me. I straighten in my seat, shifting my shoulders back. I can’t let him get nervous about this trip, about meeting my father. He needs to see my confidence.