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The last few days had felt like I was living in some kind of alternate reality. I’d felt calmer than I had in a really long time, and I wasn’t itching to escape the small family of men who knew at least one of my secrets, if not more. I wasn’t sure how much Cam or Ford had told the others, but I also found that I didn’t care. Even if I wanted to hide it, I couldn’t. Not anymore. As soon as I’d made the decision to talk to Cam, I’d outed myself in a way.
I didn’t remember much of what I’d said that had set off the mother of all panic attacks and I was good with that. I didn’t want to know.
Ididremember the sense of pure terror I’d been feeling as I’d struggled to breathe, but I instinctively knew that the terrorhadn’tbeen tied to the fact that I couldn’t get air. No, it had been triggered by something else.
Something I was more than happy to know nothing about.
I did remember waking up, though. I’d felt so warm and light, like nothing bad could ever touch me again. It had taken me a bit to realize I hadn’t been alone. Lincoln’s touch had been easy to recognize, but I’d been confused by the weight of someone else’s touch on my other hand. And the sobs. Those gut-wrenching sobs. I’d known they weren’t coming from Lincoln because his had been the first face I’d seen when my eyes and brain had caught up with each another. When I’d finally managed to move my head enough to find the source of the crying, I’d recognized the brown hair immediately. When we’d been kids, Ford had worn his hair longer and I’d loved running my fingers through it.
Since Ford hadn’t been able to hear my hoarse voice as I’d said his name, I’d done the same thing—I’d run my fingers over his much shorter hair. It had been enough to get his attention. Even though I’d still been tired and confused, my heart had broken at the sight of his wet cheeks and red eyes. It hadn’t taken me long to figure out that he knew the truth—at least some of it, anyway. In that moment, we’d been teenagers again and I’d wanted to wrap my arms around Ford as he’d cried in my arms after another one of his brother’s beatings or his mother’s cruel words.
So that was what I’d done. He’d kept telling me he was sorry as he’d gently held me and when he’d quieted, he’d returned to his chair and just held my hand. There’d been so many things we’d needed to say to each other, but all we’d done was sit in silence until my eyelids had started to become too heavy to keep open. I thought Ford had told me to get some sleep, but I wasn’t sure.
I hadn’t known how much time had passed when I’d woken up the next time around, but Lincoln had been sitting in a chair next to my bed like he had the first time I’d woken up, only this time he’d been asleep. His head had been on the mattress while his fingers had been resting on my forearm. Much like I’d done with Ford, I’d run my fingers through Lincoln’s light hair, savoring the feel of the slight waves in each strand. The move had woken him up but instead of sitting up, he’d just kept his head where it was and watched me as I’d petted him.
By that time, the drugs had worn off completely, but I’d still felt exhausted—like I hadn’t slept in years. Which I supposed I kind of hadn’t. I’d slept, but the nightmares and fear had never let me truly rest.
I hadn’t even bothered to look at the window or the clock to try and figure out if it was night or day. I’d pulled my fingers free of Lincoln’s curls and then pulled the covers back a bit as I’d shifted to one side of the bed. I’d patted the spot next to me and just like that, he had crawled under the covers. I’d put my back to him and then had searched out his arm so I could pull it across my waist. Lincoln had gotten the hint and had shifted until his front was pressed to my back. And just like that, I’d gone back to sleep.
When I’d woken up again, I’d been resting my hand on Lincoln’s chest and had sidled up against him. He’d been the one playing with my hair. We’d lain there in silence for a while before he had suggested we go visit with Nacho.
And so had begun a strange dance of intimate and distant encounters. He hadn’t held my hand on our walks to see Nacho, either in the morning or the evening, nor had he touched me in any kind of meaningful way throughout the day. I’d spent most of my time reading some of the books I’d found lying around the house or helping Riley with his homework. I ate breakfast and dinner with the entire family and while I didn’t really contribute to the conversation, I’d listened to every word and studied the reactions of all the different men surrounding the table, especially the man who held me in his arms every night but walked on eggshells around me during the day.
So taking his hand and hanging on to it as he’d helped me out of the car had been a gamble; one that seemed to have paid off so far. But it was a far cry from a few days earlier when he’d told me he loved me in the parking lot of Double D’s and I’d admitted my own feelings.
Then I’d told the truth for the first time since I’d been released from The Tower as yet another one of God’s miracles—a young man who’d been freed from the sin of homosexuality.
I’d told the truth, and nothing was the same.
Lincoln hadn’t told me he loved me again, the men around me pretended not to be disgusted by who I was and what I’d done, and I’d been trying to make sense of all of it at the same time that I’d been telling myself it was all in the past now and I was okay, despite admitting the opposite a mere three days ago.
The sound of a donkey braying dragged me from my thoughts. I looked to my right to see a small barn with a large paddock attached to it. Various livestock roamed around, including the donkey that had distracted me, but it was the zebra that had me doing a double take. I heard Lincoln chuckling as I pulled him to a full stop.
“That’s Jerry,” Lincoln said.
“He’s beautiful,” I murmured as I watched the black and white striped animal approaching us. I was stunned when he put his neck over the fence and extended it like he wanted us to come closer.
That was exactly what I did. Well,we, actually, since I still had hold of Lincoln’s hand.
“Careful,” he warned me as I got closer to the animal’s black muzzle.
“He bites?” I asked.
Lincoln chuckled. “No, not exactly. So far, the only stories I’ve heard about him include the time he pushed Nolan into the water trough and left piles of zebra landmines in some very inconvenient places.”
I laughed at that and carefully reached my hand out to let the animal sniff my fingers. I made sure to keep my hand fisted so I didn’t lose any fingers if Jerry decided to see what I tasted like. The zebra sniffed my knuckles then pushed his nose against them. I was completely entranced by the animal’s soft suede-like skin.
“Has he ever done anything to you?” I asked. I glanced at Lincoln, who was standing to my left. The way he was looking at me made a delicious shiver run throughout my entire body.
“I haven’t been here too often, but after hearing all the horror stories, I’ve always made sure to come prepared,” he said after a long beat of silence. His voice sounded husky and I felt that yummy feeling go through me again.
Lincoln pulled a plastic bag out of his pocket and searched through it until he found what he was looking for. He dropped my hand so he could take hold of my wrist instead. He took his time coaxing my hand to open. His strong fingers made my skin burn but in a good way. A strange sensation stole up my arm. It felt like every nerve, every cell, every muscle in my arm were connected to his fingers.
“Keep your hand open, palm flat. He’ll take the carrot without biting you, I promise,” Lincoln said, his eyes never leaving mine. I didn’t even notice the carrot until he broke eye contact and released my hand.
I struggled to catch my breath as I did as he said. I laughed when Jerry seemed to take the carrot with his lips before he pulled it all the way into his mouth and began chewing on it. “It tickled,” I said.
When Lincoln didn’t respond, I saw that he was once again watching me.
