The Telling (13 page)

Jay remained quiet. He’d had his own wild times when he first came out—the proverbial kid in the candy store—but had settled
down and no longer judged his self-worth by conquests.

“I want my brother to be happy but I can’t see him going from one man to the next like that.”

Jay snorted but otherwise remained quiet and allowed Angie to talk.

She peered up at him through mascara-darkened lashes. “Then I met you, a gay man who was kind and decent and moral. The kind of man I’d
want for Michael.” She surprised him with her earnest, “If anything does happen between the two of you, promise me that
you’ll take care of him. Help him get through all the bullshit.”

“Angie, whether he’s my friend, lover, or the brother of my best friend, I’ll look out for him.” That said, Jay
pulled her close and planted a chaste kiss on the tip of her nose.

“Then that’s good enough for me. Thank you, Jay.”

Chapter Nine

Michael lay awake, unsure whether to cower or crow. He’d come out and made his intentions known, no going back now. He’d really hung
‘em out there. With a few words Jay could destroy Michael’s trust, but for some reason he didn’t think the man would.

Slowly he slipped a hand under the elastic of his boxers and relived the feeling of Jay’s hand gripping his cock, filling in the blanks of how
the night would have ended had he not been such a coward. Had he blown his chances with the laid-back, smooth-talking Texan? Lord, he hoped not.

He lay in the darkened privacy of his bedroom, imagining his fingers brushing dusky nipples, exciting them to rigid points, then moving downward to wrap
around a cock that was long and hard, in proportion with Jay’s body. It would fit so well in his hand, or his mouth.

In his fantasy he took Jay’s length experimentally between his lips, trying to imagine what it would be like to bury his nose in wiry pubic hair
and inhale deeply of musky male scent. In lieu of Jay’s cock, he stuck a finger in his mouth, stroking it with his tongue, gratified at the
imagined moans it would pull from his pleased lover. Yeah, he could probably do that.

He paused to remove his annoying boxers, then returned his hand to his cock, stroking rhythmically, while he mentally licked and sucked Jay. Up and down
his hand moved, faster and tighter, his breathing reduced to quick, harsh pants. He reached his free hand beneath his balls and applied pressure to just
the right spot. “Jay!” he moaned as muscles clenched, held, and then released. Milky semen splattered his chest. Still gripping his
cock, Michael collapsed back on the bed. It wasn’t as good as earlier in the bathroom, but his release served the purpose, leaving him sated and
sleepy.

He wished Jay was there, because he liked physical contact after sex, Yes, he was a coddler, and if things progressed the way he hoped, he’d soon
be cuddling with Jay.

But when he came down from his orgasmic high, reality waited for him. Michael had serious problems to deal with. It wouldn’t be fair to ask
another into his life until he’d resolved his issues, or at the very least, gotten them to a manageable level. Still, Jay had said,
“Whatever you need…” Even if Jay couldn’t fully understand, the fact that he wanted to meant a lot and, quite
frankly, helped to ease the feeling of isolation that occurred even while surrounded by loving family members. As much as Michael wanted Jay, he needed him
even more.

It wouldn’t be easy to come out in this narrow-minded town. Sure, his mother accepted him, but what about his God-fearing grandparents? Would
they still love him if he were with another man? They liked Jay, letting him call them Grandma and Grandpa, but did they even know he was gay?
Sunday’s sermon came to mind. Attending church had been a big part of Michael’s life growing up, but they’d never welcome an
openly gay man, and sitting on a bench while the preacher condemned him… Well, best if he found some other way to practice his beliefs.

His former stepfather’s words haunted him, names used against him like “pansy” and “silly faggot.”
He’d get that and a whole lot more if he continued to walk this path. Did Angie know? How about everyone else at the party? He’d only
vague recollections of the evening, up to his time with Jay, anyway. Those moments were forever burned into his memory.

He found an old pair of sweat pants to pull on and then wandered into the living area. Idly he flipped through TV channels, mind drifting back to the
defining moment when he stopped denying he was different from the guys he’d grown up with.

Two young Arkansas boys had entered his life when he’d been a frightened, lonely recruit in boot camp, away from home for the first time ever.
Missing family, friends, and even his newly shorn locks, he was pretty miserable. Ryan and Jimmy seemed to sense that he needed a friend, or better yet,
two, and included him in their lives, even though anyone who really knew them would have realized they only needed each other. That’s why they
kept their distance from anyone but him. For some reason they trusted Michael and, as a trio seemed more appropriate than a pair among their comrades, the
rest of their platoon accepted the fact that if you saw one of them, the other two weren’t far behind.

If they hadn’t confided Michael wouldn’t have guessed that they were more than just friends. But then, he’d always been
rather oblivious about such, being from a small town where any local gays either moved at the first chance or remained firmly hidden in the closet. His
mother’s gay friends were all older; he hadn’t had much experience with gay men his own age.

It was because he knew and accepted their relationship that Ryan leaned so heavily on him after Jimmy died. Both of them were up for reenlistment shortly
after the incident, but Michael no longer met eligibility requirements and Ryan had lost all desire to fight, so they concluded their stint with Uncle Sam.

In their grief over Jimmy’s death they’d shared a one-time encounter that Michael replayed in his mind many times. He had no regrets,
but his only feelings for Ryan were as a very dear friend. Though he cared deeply for him, as he had for Jimmy, that was all it was ever meant to be, a
deep friendship tempered by shared loss.

That one experience, however, made him finally understand what his friends had known all along. Even without emotional attachment, what he’d
shared with Ryan far surpassed anything he’d ever had with a girlfriend. In the past he’d dismissed his lack of sexual attraction as
not having found the right girl, but one night with Ryan opened his eyes. It wasn’t a girl he needed. Then along came Jay and all doubts
disappeared completely.

And now he wanted Jay. Needed Jay. And could possibly have him. But he couldn’t expect a lover to accept all the excess baggage he carried. Again
he heard, “Whatever you need…” Words of hope. Dare he even dream of not being alone anymore?

With a wistful sigh, he roamed into the kitchen for a beer, padding across the new carpet, soft and plush against his bare feet. He’d finally
gotten used to luxury again, and the freshly painted walls of his apartment were a far cry from the drab barracks that had been his home.

Home. He was home. All the plans and dreams he’d been saving for the last four years could now become reality. All that he needed to do was make
his mind up as to what he wanted and go after it.

Jay. He needed to call Jay. A glance at his phone clock showed four AM. Shit. He’d have to wait until morning.

***

Jay was wide awake and restless, but to keep from disturbing his roommate with his tossing and turning, he took a delighted Shasta for a walk. The fluffy
plume of the retriever’s tail beat rhythmically against his leg as her breath huffed out from around the ever-present tennis ball in her mouth.
He knew she’d just about die a happy doggie death if he’d play a game of fetch with her, but he wasn’t touching the
drool-soaked, lime green monstrosity.

Instead they walked, enjoying the slight chill of morning. Crickets, frogs, and night birds serenaded them, natural night sounds that would soon be drowned
out by cars and man-made noises. Jay shoved his hands inside the pockets of his denim jacket. Damn. He’d had Michael in his arms, had made him
lose control.

The entire night hinged of a few little words:
You, Jay, I want you.
Then Michael had proved it.

When Jay returned downstairs after their encounter he’d made what small talk he could with Michael, but Angie’s protective, angry
glares sent a clear warning. When Michael was ready to go home, sharp fingernails digging into his shoulder discouraged him from riding along with
Charlene, the designated driver.

So he’d gone out to the porch and waited, knowing Angie would look for him there. She’d given him a lot to think about, like the
anxiety and post traumatic stress, especially after how close he’d come to being decked. Jay hadn’t lied about his cousin’s
issues, but even with the support of a loving family, Angel’s reintegration into the civilian world had been difficult. Combat left a man with
some heavy shit to deal with, and he shouldn’t have to go it alone.

What Michael needed was a friend who he could count on, who knew what to expect. And if it turned out that he needed a friend more than a lover? Well,
Angel’s problems had taught Jay that sometimes you just had to wait until they came around. You didn’t give up, you let them know you
were there, always, no matter what. And if Michael didn’t want him as a lover he’d cross that bridge when he got there, he had plenty
of time.

Or did he? Graduation was fast approaching and he’d looked forward to moving somewhere more accepting. Michael had just come home. That meant in
order for anything to develop between them, Jay would have to postpone leaving. He tried to imagine the two of them nestled all cozy and snug in
Michael’s apartment over the store. Nah, it’d never work. There was barely room up there for one, let alone two. Still, together in the
tiny kitchen preparing dinner, brushing against each other as they both tried to occupy the same space could prove interesting.

Yeah, he could do it. He could find a job locally or in a nearby city, but he was getting ahead of himself. First he had to win Michael. Angie was on his
side, though, so Michael didn’t stand a chance.

On that happy note, Jay turned himself and Shasta for home.

Chapter Ten

Haunted eyes stared at Michael’s from within the confines of the Humvee. “Why, Michael?” came the familiar plea.
“I could be happy now, I’d be with Jimmy. Why’d you stop me?”

“Yeah, Michael,” came a voice that had never sounded so sinister in the waking world. “It’s your fault, you
know. You just had to be with Ryan when you knew he was mine. And I let you take my place. Some friend you are.”

Michael refused to look at the newcomer, knowing full well what he’d see: hollow eyes, a bloody uniform, and seething anger.

“It should have been you. It was your place and you should have been there,” said the dead corporal who had once been his friend
Jimmy.

“Yeah, Michael, it’s not fair,” Ryan chimed in. “We would still be together now if it weren’t for
you!” He shouted now, something Ryan never did in real life.

“Wanna know what it felt like, Mikey? Do you? The heat, the pain? It should have been you, Michael, it should have been you.”

Suddenly, Michael was in a Humvee with three other soldiers. “Stop!” he screamed, but they just laughed and chatted, ignoring him.
“Go back!” he yelled, grabbing the steering wheel. The driver gave him a stern look and swatted his hand away before turning back
to his conversation.

Frantically beating hands against the driver, powerless to stop the inevitable, he watched helplessly as the ill-fated men headed toward their destiny
in ignorance. Knowing he couldn’t save them, he scrabbled with clumsy fingers at his seat belt, only to find the buckle fused shut. Heart
hammering wildly in his chest, he struggled to free himself, knowing he had just seconds. Then it was too late. An explosion rocked the vehicle,
burning heat engulfed him, and he screamed…

Michael shot upright in his bed, gasping for breath and fighting off sweat-soaked sheets. Oh God, not again. It was the same dream every time.

In the months since the attack he’d frequently questioned why he hadn’t been in the Humvee that led the convoy with those he normally
rode with. That day something had changed and Jimmy had been there instead.

Jimmy’s vehicle took a direct hit. Only Prescott survived and it would be months before he’d walk again, if then. Jimmy had been
sitting in the front passenger seat where Michael normally sat. They’d kept his coffin closed at the funeral.

In the chaotic aftermath Michael was reported missing and the worst assumed. He’d survived with relatively mild injuries, only to face the angry
accusations of his two friends on a nearly nightly basis. Then, once they’d had their say, he rode with his former comrades, unable to stop the
inevitable. He always woke screaming.

He’d scoffed when someone had once told him that if you died in your dreams that you’d die in real life, wondering how anyone could
actually know such a thing. Now he worried that, not only was it true, but that it was how he’d meet his end.

A quick glance at the clock showed 7:30 a.m. He’d never get back to sleep, so he rose and started his day on just three hours sleep.

He finally shook off his night terror enough to focus on work at noon.

***

“Hey, Michael, ready for some pizza?”

Michael answered an unexpected knock to find the star of his waking thoughts leaning against the doorframe of his apartment. A fading T-shirt displayed a
perfect upper body, and faded blue jeans, worn through in strategic places, cradled strong thighs. Four days of depression lifted at the sight.

Blood rushed from his head and down to his groin, the depletion of resources leaving him speechless. He managed to stutter, “How’d you
get in?”

The smile disappeared as Jay pushed off the doorframe and turned to leave. “I knew I should have called. If I’ve come at a bad
time…”