After Ben (39 page)

Theo stood at one side of the kitchen, hair still damp from his post-sex shower, dressed only in sweatpants as he rifled through a stack of mail. When Morgan didn’t answer, Theo looked up, annoyed about letting his mail pile up. It seemed kind of important to get everything squared away before he left, when really he wanted to spend his last few hours in bed with Morgan. He couldn’t get close enough to him, often enough.

Theo tore open another envelope and sighed—pissed with himself—then looked up again sharply when Morgan spoke.

“Please don’t look at me that way, Theo.”

“What way?”

“Like I’ve made you angry.”

Theo shook his head. “I’m not angry, not at all, and certainly not with you. I’m annoyed at all of this.” He gestured to the mess of paperwork spread across the counter.

“Oh.”

Theo watched as Morgan unwound his arms from around himself and tilted his head from side to side as if releasing tension. They both heard his neck crack.

“I thought I’d done something wrong.”

“Like what? Looking too hot to ignore? Constantly making me happy? Yeah, you should quit that shit so I can get this done.” Theo smiled as he watched Morgan’s fingers trace along the refrigerator door, dipping into his fist imprint momentarily before sliding away.

Later, Theo thought that maybe it was because he hadn’t been fully engaged—his head full of flight details, layovers, time differences—that understanding crept up on him so slowly before taking him by surprise.

He looked at his pile of mail and pushed it away, frowning a little. One of the letters was a solicitation from the shelter. He should have guessed that making a donation would lead to requests for more support. He added thinking about that to his mental list, then looked at Morgan again from the corner of his eye.

Standing in a pair of low-slung pajama pants, Morgan’s long, pale torso was all taut tension as he touched the fist imprint again. When Theo noticed the way he finger-tipped along his collarbone with his free hand at the same time, stopping at the lump where his break had healed, something finally clicked into place.

“Oh, Morgan.”

Morgan’s head shot up. He hugged himself again, then tilted his chin up.

“What?”

Theo crossed the room, blinking at the way Morgan backed away from him, mouth dropping open as Morgan pulled a stool out between them, stopping him dead. He looked at the refrigerator, then looked back at Morgan—his Morgan.

“What happened to you?”

Morgan shook his head, then shook it again before jerking away from Theo’s outstretched hand. Seconds later, he was out of the kitchen. Theo listened as the bathroom door lock clicked home.

By the time Morgan finally emerged, sliding into bed almost silently, he was so rigid with tension it seemed impossible that his back could get any stiffer, but it did whenever Theo tried to touch him. Eventually, he got as close as he could, just pressing the tops of his feet under Morgan’s soles. Slowly, Morgan relaxed by tiny increments until he was stretched out against Theo. When he reached around Morgan, fingers rubbing against skin until they touched his collarbone, Morgan stiffened again.

“Who hurt you?”

Theo heard Morgan swallow and felt his head shake.

“Please talk to me. Why didn’t you tell me?”

Morgan lay very still.

“Who hurt you?” Theo felt sick and helpless with anger.

Morgan rolled over onto his back, pushing Theo away.

“You don’t need to know.” His voice sounded hollow. “I did this to myself.”

Chapter 22

T
HEO
sat between his mom and dad in the departure terminal waiting for their flight to be called, hardly paying attention to his mom’s conversation. Considering their early start—his dad had honked his horn at least half an hour too early that morning outside Theo’s apartment—she was wide awake and full of chipper observations. It all felt bizarrely familiar.

Ben had always used their long outbound vacation flights to decompress. He would start a running commentary from the moment they arrived at their terminal, guessing who would be on their flight, then make up stories about their travel plans. Sometimes he got a little carried away, constructing colorful histories about people he had never even met.

“See those two,
tesoro
?” he would whisper, nudging Theo until he paid attention, “They are traveling far, far away to a conference. They hardly know each other. Look at that one, yes him, with his hands in his pockets. He wants the blond man. He wants him so bad. They will be victims to a mysterious double booking at their hotel, and find themselves forced to share a bed. It will be the best sex they ever had.”

Theo had learned to let Ben continue with his flights of fancy. Pointing out that the vast majority of the rest of the world was straight, and that not everything was about sex, would just make Ben speak louder.

“Pah! I know attraction when I see it. Look at the way he follows him with his eyes. The blond is walking away. I give him less than a minute to follow.”

By the time they cleared security and boarded, Ben would have complete strangers married off. His mom was just as imaginative.

“Theo, will everyone on the flight be going on vacation?”

“I doubt it, Mom. We stop over in New York. There are lots of reasons for people to go there.”

“Do you think many people on this flight will go all the way to Milan with us? That couple look very happy. Maybe it’s their honeymoon.”

“Maybe, Mom.” He couldn’t help wishing that Ben was with them—really with them—instead of safely stowed away in his carry-on bag. If he’d been there, making his own fun as usual, at least his mom would have someone to talk to. Ben’s fun side would have surprised her. His dad was almost dozing already, and Theo badly wished for some quiet time to think. As their flight was called and they followed the boarding instructions, he hoped his mom would follow his dad’s example. The man could sleep standing up.

Luck wasn’t on Theo’s side. His mom talked for pretty much the whole first leg of their journey, finding everything interesting, from the in-flight safety demonstration to the transfer between aircraft. By the time they finally took off toward Milan on their second flight, Theo felt like he’d been babysitting Maggie’s toddler all day long. He’d booked business-class seats for the Atlantic crossing, figuring that his parents would appreciate the increased comfort on the longer flight. Right after dinner, and within minutes of reclining her seat, his mom slipped into sleep.

“What’s going on with Morgan, son?”

His dad’s voice was low but firm, leaving Theo feeling like he was thirteen years old and standing at the bottom of the ladder outside their house all over again. That tone of voice meant that he expected an answer.

“Come on now, Theo. You’ve been as white as a sheet all day. I know that this isn’t exactly a vacation, but something big is on your mind. You’ll feel better if you spill it, son.” He’d said pretty much the same thing a few times to Theo over the years and looking back. Theo realized he’d always been right. Back then, things that seemed pretty terrible got easier to deal with once his dad helped him think shit through.

“Something happened to Morgan before we were together. It’s pretty shocking. He didn’t tell me about it, and now I don’t know how to help him.”

“Does he need you to help him, son? Seems like he’s a full-grown man already.”

Theo chewed on his lip.

“Did you know everything about Ben’s life before you two got together?” His dad pitched his voice low as the flight attendants passed. He added, “Maybe you should ask yourself if you really need to know.”

“I think I do need to know about this, Dad. I think it’s a big thing. A bad thing, only I don’t know enough because he won’t talk to me about it. I’m certain it’s still affecting him now.” He looked at his dad, just inches away and so similar to Theo that Ben always said it was like looking at his future. “I don’t know how to get Morgan to talk to me.”

Theo was desperate to talk to him. He had woken early that morning with Morgan attached to him like a limpet on a tide-pool rock. For a moment he wondered if he had dreamed the events of last night. Morgan slept on his side, cuddled into Theo, his leg hooked over one of Theo’s and his arm draped heavily across his chest. When Theo turned his head a little, he had a close-up view of the side of Morgan’s face. In the faint light cast by the street lamp outside, he looked so peaceful. Then Theo remembered the awful bruising he’d had the very first time he saw him at the shelter. The whole side of his face had been swollen and scraped as if…. As if….

Theo lay there, wrapped up in Morgan, and had a waking nightmare where someone grabbed Morgan by the long, silky-looking hair he used to have, and swung him, using their full force, into the rough, exposed brickwork at his old apartment. He bet that was exactly what happened. He bet that was why Morgan had cut his hair. The first time Theo saw Morgan afterward, his hair had been so short that he’d resembled a convict. Maybe he’d felt like a prisoner before then.

What sort of person could do that to another human being? What made someone hurt the person they shared their life with? Morgan was the last person he would expect to put up with that shit. It wasn’t as if he couldn’t look after himself—he was very streetwise—and while he was slim, he wasn’t exactly small and weak.

Peter had talked about weakness. He described how mothers could lift cars to rescue their own trapped children—he’d seen that shit for himself—or walk through fire if they thought their babies were on the other side of a wall of flames. But those same people would stay in relationships where they were abused. It made no fucking sense.

Peter had also talked about finding ways to encourage people to leave, and how some paramedic divisions were more successful at that shit. What had he said about statistics? It took some people getting injured three times before they left, if they were lucky. Three times. He’d seen the results of what he guessed was Morgan’s last straw. He could see the evidence of a broken collarbone every single time Morgan got into bed. What else had happened to him? What else hadn’t been bad enough to make someone call 911?

“Son? Son, do you need a drink? You look mighty green there.”

Theo nodded. He needed something all right. There was no way that he couldn’t talk to Morgan about this. This was too big—far, far too big—to chalk down to things that happened before they got together.

He accepted a ginger ale from the attendant, took a few sips, and then huffed out a shaky breath.

“I can see that this really is bothering you, son. Perhaps a few days away will be a good thing for both of you.”

Theo wasn’t so sure about that. When Morgan woke that morning, his eyes had opened slowly, and when he found Theo gazing at him from just a few inches away, he’d smiled and pressed a small, dry kiss to Theo’s lips. He’d gone from that to snuggling in even closer, humping his hip a little and kissing his shoulder, as if nothing had happened. Theo had felt the moment—the split second—when Morgan recalled their silent standoff of the night before. He’d gone from relaxed to tense in a heartbeat, then pulled away.

Yeah, being alone was the opposite of a good idea for Morgan right now. He’d declined Theo’s offer of a ticket to fly with them, then very quietly lost his temper when Theo suggested canceling his trip.

“Don’t you dare. Don’t you fucking dare. Too many people want to see you, Theo. What are you going to tell them? How would you explain bailing at the last minute? ‘My boyfriend was a fucking idiot’? No fucking way. Just pretend it didn’t happen. If I can, you can too, Theo. Just forget it.”

He’d still been tight with anger when Theo left, his face set into an impassive mask, nodding as Theo said good-bye. He’d nodded—slowly—a second time when Theo asked if he would still be home when he returned, then pulled him in for a quick, fierce hug, nodding faster into his neck, hiding his miserable expression. Honestly, Theo wasn’t sure what to expect. He just didn’t want Morgan to run. He couldn’t think about that scenario without feeling sick.

“I shouldn’t have come. I think he needs someone right now. Right now, Dad. I think he’s needed someone just for himself for a long, long time.”

His mom’s hand slid into his, curling around his fingers. Theo turned to look at her.

“I think you need each other, Theo.” His mom smiled, her eyes sleepy and a little shiny. “The way he looks at you…. You’re already very special to each other.”

His dad held onto his other hand. “You’ll think of a way to communicate, son. We’ll only be gone for a week. Maybe that’s just long enough to figure things out.”

He sat between his parents as they flew toward Milan, hoping that they were right.

T
HEO
checked them into a small, simple little hotel set in a courtyard just a few streets away from the hustle and bustle of central Milan. He and Ben had stayed there often, especially after Marco started to find it uproariously funny to crawl into bed with Theo when they used to stay with Ben’s family.