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I whirl around, stopping in front of Mitch where he sits hunched over on the corner of the bed. “I’ll tell you what he is,” I snarl. “He’s a fucked-up, closeted asshole who gets off on toying with gay men because he’s too chicken-shit to admit who he is!”
“Most likely, yes.” Mitch’s face remains impassive at my ranting.
I cock my head, studying Mitch carefully. “You already knew that, didn’t you?”
He shrugs. “I figured it out after I quit. Everything made sense somehow. In his own twisted way, I was Grant’s only outlet for his sexual frustration and loathing.”
“Bullshit,” I roar. “All he had to do was man up and admit he likes cock. There’s no excuse for fucking with people’s heads the way he does! He’s fucking married, Mitch!”
Mitch nods. “I know.” His blank stare turns dark. “I could literally kill him for what he tried to do to you,” he whispers, as if saying it softly would negate the seriousness of his declaration.
My anger fading, I sit next to Mitch on the bed. “He didn’t do anything, Mitch. He tried his fucked up mind games, but the only reaction he got out of me was irritation.”
“Because you’re stronger than me,” he admits.
I put my hand under his chin and pull his face up to mine. “Because I never trusted him to begin with. You didn’t have a choice, Mitch. He was your partner. You spent days with the man. It’s hard to see the truth when it’s…” I blink, in shock at the thought that just ran through my head.
“When it’s what?” Mitch asks, his brow crumpled in confusion.
“When it’s right in front of you,” I murmur. “Holy shit. I think I might know who’s been leaving the notes.”
Chapter 15
Mitch
“Sasha,” I see my friend waiting for us in the restaurant of her hotel, a gorgeous Mediterranean style resort right on Huntington Beach.
“Mitch,” she hugs me before turning to Gavin.
“Sasha, good to see you,” he wraps his arms around her to receive his own embrace.
“I have a table waiting,” she announces. We follow her to a table tucked away in a corner of the room.
A huge grin overtakes her face, causing two dimples to pop on her cheeks. “Back together, I see?” Her eyes flick down to my hand on Gavin’s knee and I flush. But I leave my hand where it is. Gavin covers my hand with his and squeezes.
“Yes.” I glance over at Gavin and he gives me a small smile, turning my insides to mush.
Sasha’s face splits in half again. “Wonderful.” Then her expression turns serious, making the nerves that already twist in my gut clench even harder. “We’ll order before we talk business. I’m starving.”
We agree and wait until our food arrives to listen to Gavin give us his terrible theory. He takes a deep breath to gather the courage to speak.
“I think my father sent the notes,” he admits, a tinge of sadness in his voice.
“Your father?” I nearly shout.
“Mitch, don’t make a scene,” Sasha hisses.
Of course she’s right. Gavin is very recognizable, and with me sitting here after his announcement that we were never a real couple, it causes several heads to turn our way and mouths to drop open in surprise.
“Sorry, I didn’t think.” My hand grips Gavin’s knee, probably causing discomfort but he doesn’t complain. “You really think your father did this? Cut off a human finger? That he’s a serial killer?” I rant.
“No, not a killer. You said there were two suspects, one tame and one serious. I think he’s the non-threatening one, sending notes to keep me in the closet,” Gavin explains.
I grunt non-committedly as Sasha nods, obviously agreeing with Gavin’s hypothesis.
Gavin turns his upper body to face me. “Think about it Mitch. The notes started a long time ago, years. According to Ross, they weren’t threatening enough to even bother telling me.”
“Okay, but it could be anyone, so why your dad?” I ask, trying to wrap my mind around a parent being so cruel. Yet I know it could be true. I’ve seen humanity at it’s worst, and sending homophobic notes is nothing compared to what I’ve dealt with.
