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“It’s okay. Your worries were understandable.”
“I was always afraid they would be able to see everything that was done to me.”
The weight of what he admitted felt heavy to me. Everything that was done. It made me angry. Sad. I wanted to kill his father. I wanted to protect him from everything. I took a slow, deep breath and tightened my arm around him again.
“No one can see anything like that when they look at you.”
I meant that too. When he first came to live with us, and even before that, just by looking at Patrick you got the feeling that this wasn’t your typical Beverly Hills kid. He looked like he’d had a rough life, and I remember thinking he was a dick at school causing fights. But no one could imagine the depth of the shit he had been through. And I only caught glimpses of it when he’d have a nightmare.
He rolled over and looked at me.
“You’re the reason I was able to do it tonight. You being there gave me the courage to finally do it,” he whispered.
I leaned in and kissed him again. As the lightning lit up his bedroom, our tongues pushed one another’s around while our hands freely roamed. Our mouths and hands stayed busy until the adrenaline from the night wore off. I was flat on my back with heavy eyelids while Patrick was facing me on his side. His eyes were closed, and his arm was draped across my chest. As I gave in to sleepiness, I couldn’t help but think about what all of this meant.
What would TCF and the fighting world think of a bi fighter?
Did I even have to tell anyone?
Was it anyone’s business but my own?
It didn’t matter. I didn’t give a fuck what they thought.
