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“I’m glad you weren’t hurt,” I say softly. “Except for the…” I point to the bruises coloring his jaw.
“Clumsy,” he explains weakly, and it doesn’t seem like a lie. “Dad set cash aside for me, but I lost it in the woods, along with my phone and my clothes. They probably have it all now. I kept my paperwork and ID on me though, in my sweatshirt. They’re in the room, so at least I can prove I still exist. Small victories, I guess.”
“Well, you’re safe here,” I try to comfort him. “No one can take you if you don’t want to go. I’ll make sure of it.”
He smiles sadly. “They’ve got a lot of power and connections, Weston. I don’t think that they’ll give up so easily.”
“I’ve got connections too,” I inform him vaguely. “Trust me, I’m not going to let them take you.”
“I really don’t want to be a bother, but I also really,reallydon’t want to go back either,” he rasps. “I don’t want to be surrounded by a family that hates me until the end of time. I don’t… I don’t want to hide who I am and marry somerespectablewoman they choose and be forced to have kids with her to appease their traditions.”
“And so you won’t.”
“You don’t care that I… that I’m—”
Even without him saying it out right I know what he’s trying to tell me—what he’s trying towarnme about, but it’s really not necessary. “Beck, you have nothing to worry about. I’m gay. You don’t need to disclose anything, you’re safe here either way.”
I’ve never had a problem with being open about my sexuality but I had support, and it’s clear that he hasn’t. At least, not enough of it. I didn’t have a big family to rally around me, and I didn’t need one. I had my parents before they passed, and by that time, they’d already made me secure enough as a man that nothing could touch me. Now, I’ve got the security of seclusion, and a firm understanding of who I am to keep me content.
“I’m gay too,” he rushes out with a relieved smile. “I only ever said that out loud to my dad before.”
“I’m glad you felt safe enough to say it again.”
He breathes out a sigh. “Me too. Wow, that feels nice.”
“Good.”
“It’s so strange,” he suddenly murmurs, almost longingly.
“What is?”
“I can just… bemehere.” A little sigh escapes him. “No one here to tell me I can’t wear eyeliner, or ripped jeans, or have my lip ring in, or put my elbows on the table. No one to tell me I can’t—” he pauses, looking at me, “unless you…”
“I’m not going to tell you that you can’t do anything as long as it isn’t going to burn down my house or lead you to getting yourself arrested,” I tell him firmly, watching his smile bloom across his face in response. “You’re free to be your rebel self all you want here, Beck.”
He chuckles. “Me? A rebel? Oh, yeah, I’m a real bad boy.”
My jaw flexes, hearing those words—feelingthem in my gut. His eyes widen once they leave him, hearing them as well. “I just meant—”
“I know,” I interrupt. “It’s cool. Bad boy or not, you’re a little runaway rebel in your own right.”
Something like pride flickers behind his eyes, and it looks fucking stunning on him.
We spend the rest of the night getting more comfortable with each other. We trade facts about ourselves; favorite foods, desserts, books, movies… anything we can think of. Beck likes thrillers, beef Wellington, any kind of cookie, and has a guilty pleasure for fried foods. He calls frieschips, and talks about full english breakfasts, but also casually uses a ton of more American terms. It’s interesting to hear his accent mesh with his obvious understanding of more americanized things. It’s clear he’s spent a lot of time with his father, and I’m glad he was able to before he lost him.
I also learn that he’s turning twenty next month, making him nearly fifteen years younger than me. A fact that would typically steer me away from the attraction growing within me for him. Even though he doesn’t balk when I tell him my age in return. I have mixed feelings about it.
He deserves someone closer in age, someone who he can relate to more easily. But now that he’s here, I’m going to protect him for the foreseeable future. I want him to be mine, but I’m not sure that I can allow that to happen. Although, he might already be mine… of course, he’ll have a say in this. I need him to want me just as much as I want him before anything can happen. Most of all, I need him safe.
And so the test of my patience begins.
CHAPTERFOUR
Beck
Weston doesn’t have a guest room. That little tidbit, I can believe. What he just said to me? Not so much.
“I’m sorry, what?” I ask, genuinely not believing my ears.
