Stepping farther into the room, he’s got a candle lit, and he’s lying on the right side of the bed on top of the covers. His back is to me, but I know he heard me come in. Nerves swim in my gut as I round the bed, climbing on to lie beside him. I stare up at the ceiling, my hands clasped together across my stomach.
Neither of us says anything for a moment, the silence between us loud enough.
My feelings for Segan weren’t always convenient. I fought against them, and struggled for a while. It’s not only because he was my niece’s boyfriend—which, don’t get me wrong, was ahugefactor—but also our age difference. In retrospect, we aren’t that far apart in age; three years. But at the time, it felt bigger.
While my connection with him never feltwrong, as in dirty or shameful, it felt like itshouldhave felt that way. I struggled with why it never felt wrong to spend hours talking to him, why when he kissed me the first time, it didn’t feel dirty. Overall, I guess I struggled with how right being near him always felt.
It scared me.
And the guilt because of Lana was just the icing on top of the cake. Still to this day, I’ll have moments where the guilt feels all-consuming. Like the thought of Lana, somehow, someway, knowing what happened after her funeral guts me. Or thinking about what would’ve happened had she found out about the kiss on her birthday, or all the time we spent together behind her back. It makes me feel like the biggest piece of shit on the planet. Segan and I found comfort in one another, doing something we never should’ve been doing.
Finally, after a few minutes, the silence becomes too much. The patter of the rain on the window sounds taunting, like it’s urging me to speak. Dragging in a deep breath, I hold it, count to three, before exhaling and muttering, “Segan, will you please talk to me?”
His response is instant, like he was waiting for me to break the silence. “I don’t think there’s anything to say,” he mutters softly.
“Fine, if you don’t want to talk, then I will.” I consider rolling onto my side to look at him, but I coward out and keep my eyes trained on the ceiling. “You, more than anyone, know how complicated things were back then. Lana had fallen off the deep end and wasn’t doing well. I knew if I stayed in Utah, something more would’ve happened with me and you, and I couldn’t do that to her.”
Emotion sits thick in my throat, thinking about that time. Thinking about the decision I had to make.
“She’s my niece, Segan, and we were all she had on her side. You know that. I wanted to protect her and keep her safe. I wanted to save her, and I knew staying in town would only hurt her. So, I made the choice to remove myself from the situation in hopes that maybe she’d get better.”
Segan scoffs. “Lot of good that did.”
This time, I do turn onto my side until we’re looking right at each other. “I did what I thought was right, Segan, and I’ve regretted it every single fucking day since.”
His breath hitches, eyes flaring, even in the shadow of darkness.
There are so many subtle things about Segan that make him so undeniably attractive, and it’s only gotten more prominent with age. He’s painfully good looking.
“Looking back, I can admit that what I did wasn’t the best choice, and it wasn’t fair to leave the responsibility and the burden of Lana’s troubles on your shoulders. I left to save her, but in doing so, I made it solely your responsibility. That wasn’t right, and I’m so sorry for that. It shouldn’t have been up to you to save her, boyfriend or not. It wasn’t okay for me to expect you to take that on.”
Eyes glossy with emotion, he’s beautiful as always. I reach over, cupping the side of his face as I scoot closer, knowing I’m probably testing my luck, but I can’t not touch him right now. I need to feel him.
His eyes close from the contact. “Josiah…” He breathes my name with so much anguish, it kills me. It’s a sharp knife straight to the chest. This time, it’s him who closes the distance, crashing his mouth into mine. Segan kisses me hard, letting out every last emotion he can’t put into words, his tongue tangling with mine, telling a story he can’t. He kisses me like this could be a start over for us, like maybe we can be okay.
He slides closer, our bodies flush, and I feel the way his cock begins to thicken behind his shorts, his arousal matching my own. Having him like this is surreal. It’s everything.
But unfortunately, like the last time, it’s over entirely too soon when he rips his lips from mine, bowing his chin and scooting away. “I can’t do this, Josiah. This can’t fucking happen.”
My heart sinks. I hate this.
“I won’t run this time, Segan,” I promise, wishing he’d look up at me again so he could see the sincerity behind what I’m saying. “I’m here, and I don’t plan on going anywhere.”
Finally, he looks up. The despair in his gaze is heartbreaking. “It’s not that simple.”
“Then explain it to me.Please, Segan.”
Segan sits up, back against the headboard, knees drawn up with his arms resting on them. His hands are linked together, his eyes locked on them. I sit up too, silently pleading with him to let me in, to explain it to me.
Even before I left for Nevada, he was never the greatest at opening up. He made it clear he had feelings for me, but anything deeper than that was out of the question. Which, given how he grew up and who his parents were, I can see why he’s so closed off. Like me, he never fit into the polished little box of what his family thought he should look, be, act like.
Being anything other than their perfect image is unacceptable where we come from, and after being told so many times that you’re a disappointment, and that your opinions and feelings don’t matter, you learn to shut it off. You learn to bottle it up and numb it all.
That’s a hard thing to unlearn.
If it weren’t for the years of therapy I put myself through after leaving Utah, I, too, would probably still do it. Talking about my feelings and being vulnerable still doesn’t come easy to me, but at least now, I understand why it’s so important to try. Unlike Segan, though, I had my mom. She was someone I always felt was on my side, even when my father was cruel and angry and demanding.
Segan didn’t have that. Both of his parents are brainwashed assholes who never showed him an ounce of unconditional love.
