Wood: A True Lover's Story

So Wood had accepted his proposal.

Trent had deluded himself into thinking a man like Wood really wanted him. He’d been a fool, again. All the while Wood had just been waiting for his long-lost fiancé, and when he didn’t find him… he’d settled for Trent. After seventeen years, any ass probably would’ve sufficed. Trent’s face flamed red as he thought about all the evenings they’d shared, the dinners, the late-night binge-watching, the conversations. He’d told Wood things he hadn’t even told Bishop.

What about our lovemaking, didn’t th—? Shit. Wood wasn’t in love with him, therefore he couldn’t call all those intimate nights in his bed “making love.” Moisture built in his eyes, and he wanted to die from sheer humiliation. He’d done the fucking best he could this time, and it still hadn’t been enough. Trent spun around and grabbed the first thing he saw, needing to let his fury out before it ate through him. He ripped the cord out of the wall as Trent threw one of his new bedside lamps across the room, needing, wanting to scream as loud as that crash.

He walked over to his record player and froze in place with his hands on the turntable. If he destroyed the most important piece of property he had, he knew he’d regret it the rest of his life. Besides, he’d need something to play his records on to get him through the quiet nights after Wood was gone. Trent almost dropped to one knee, the feeling of losing what he’d thought he’d built with Wood nearly crippling him. Why’d he have to do this to himself again? He should’ve stayed standoffish and kept Wood at a safe distance. Now look at him. He was a wreck.

Trent aggressively wiped his eyes and quickly got back into his coat. He made sure he had his keys and wallet, not caring about the mess he’d made or grabbing a bag. He needed to get the fuck out of there. He wouldn’t sit on the couch like a kicked puppy as Wood packed his shit and hightailed it out of the slums of Norfolk.

Trent opened the heavy door hoping for some miracle to keep him from having to leave his own home. Hoping his eyes were deceiving him. Wood’s back was to him, and he was still holding Adam and gazing down on him the same way he’d done him countless times.

“Oh my god, Adam. I’m gonna break you if I squeeze you any tighter,” Trent heard Wood say as he eased back and gently cupped Adam’s cheeks. “You saved my life, angel. I’ll never be able to show you how much this means to me.”

“Yes you will,” Adam said confidently, and Trent saw that Wood’s ex was watching him over his shoulder, looking as if he knew he’d already taken what he’d come there for. “Come home with me, Woody. Let me help you get back on top where you belong. I can give you the kind of support you need. I promise it doesn’t come with any strings attached. I owe you at least that for not being able to help you all those years ago when it would’ve mattered.”

Trent exploded through the screen door, not caring how hard it banged against the side of the trailer. Maybe it’d broken. He didn’t check, he didn’t care. He got down the steps, trying not to glance in the other men’s direction, but it was like not looking at an accident in a traffic jam. The noise appeared to have jolted Wood out of his haze because his eyes widened dramatically as he inched away from his ex, his smile falling slightly as he watched Trent stride determinedly to his truck with his keys in his hand.

“Trent,” Wood called out, walking toward him, but Trent didn’t stop. “Trent!”

Trent got to his door and struggled to get the key in the old lock, feeling like an inadequate dumbass for not having power locks and automatic start like he was sure Adam had on his luxury vehicle. Probably heated seats too.

Wood jogged around the back end just as Trent got the key inside. “Wait. Where are you going?”

Trent’s body vibrated, his shoulder burning where Wood was gripping him. “Get the fuck off me. Now,” Trent hissed.

Wood yanked his hand away, appearing surprised. “Trent. Calm down. I am not engaged. You know that.”

Trent hesitated, wanting so badly to stay but knowing he’d only end up making a fool of himself. He couldn’t exactly knock a man out on his lawn, especially not one almost twice his age and using a cane. “I don’t know anything,” Trent said too quietly, unable to speak clearly with the lump lodged in his throat.

“Trent, let’s just all go back inside and talk for a minute,” Wood reasoned.

“All.” Trent scoffed. “All.”