Page 79 of Captivated
Nate opened his mouth, then closed it. Zeeb wasn’t looking for answers.
“Fuck,” Zeeb whispered. He released Nate’s hands, his own curled into fists resting on his thighs. “I keep thinking about you, scared, trying to hold it together for someone else. Trying to be the strong one, even then.” He shook his head, the motionfierce and bitter. “I should’ve known. Should’ve seen it sooner. I saw the way you flinched that first week, the way you looked at everything like it was gonna bite you. And I thought… Hell, I don’t know what I thought. That maybe you were shy. Or just tired.”
“Iwastired,” Nate affirmed quietly. “I still am.”
Zeeb’s throat worked, as if he were holding something back and losing the fight.
“You’re not tired because of who you are. You’re tired because they broke something they had no right to touch.”
The anger in him wasn’t clean. It was rusted through with grief, heavy and human.
“And now this kid, this friend of yours…” Zeeb’s words caught on the edge of a sob. “He doesn’t get to grow up. Doesn’t get to make it out. Doesn’t get tobe.”
Nate nodded slowly. “Yeah.”
Zeeb wiped at his face with the back of his hand. “I didn’t know him. But I hate them for what they did to him. I hate them for what they did to you.”
The silence returned, thick and aching.
Zeeb drew in a breath. “I’m not gonna ask if you’re okay. ’Cause I know better. But if you ever feel like you’re drowning, I want you to look to me, all right? I want you to remember I’m not going anywhere.”
Nate’s throat tightened. He hadn’t cried in years where anyone could see, but the burn behind his eyes threatened now.
“I don’t know what to do with all of it,” he admitted. “The guilt, the memories. Him.”
Then the breath whooshed out of him when Zeeb hauled him to his feet and enveloped him in a hug, Zeeb’s cheek rough and warm against his. Nate wanted to protest until he realized how fuckinggoodit felt to be held by someone.
“You don’thaveto know,” Zeeb murmured. “We’ll carry it together, if you let me.”
His words sank in, heavy, terrifying…
Healing.
Nate gave a tight nod. “Okay.” His voice cracked. Then Zeeb let him go, and Nate wasn’t sure if he was relieved or disappointed. He sat back down, but Zeeb didn’t move from his side, his hand covering Nate’s, and Nate was thankful for the connection.
“One thing I don’t get. They kept you for all those years just because your daddy caught you in girl clothes?”
Nate barked out a bitter laugh. “That was how it started. The irony? It took my experience at the camp for me to acknowledge something I hadn’t really understood until then. Meeting Mark.” He looked Zeeb in the eye. “That was when I knew for the first time—trulyknew—I was gay.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Zeeb’s facewas a mask of horror and sympathy.
“What a place to find that out.”
Nate’s throat was tight, and he took a mouthful of water. “I was fourteen. And it coincided with my visit home.” He snorted. “That was some visit. The guy in charge of Sanctuary Hill—that was what they called it—wrote a report to my dad. And they’d been watching. Analyzing every single thing I did.” He tried to swallow. “I can still hear his voice in my head.”
“You act on your ‘feelings’ and you’ll never set foot in this house again.”
A wave of exhaustion crashed over Nate, and he sagged into the chair.
“God, I’m tired.” He was done talking.
“Did you get much sleep before you left home to come back here?”
Nate huffed. “Not enough, obviously.”
“Hey, we don’t need to do this now. You’ve had a rough day. Maybe you should have an early night.” Zeeb’s soft voice washed over him in a gentle tide.
