I swallow hard and try to organize my racing thoughts.
“Now I gave them something they could use to combine with the other data they have on me. They could hate me so well. To the core, Vance. Anyone with basic cable or the internet can hate me so effectively. Because they know me…superficially. They feel they know me well. I let them have all these details, to humanize myself. And the real kicker,” I rasp, “is that no one ever loved me. Till I met you.” I force myself to say it out loud, even though it sounds pathetic. Even though my voice is shaky. “No one ever really loved me, because no one ever knew me.”
My eyes well, and Rayne turns onto a side street that leads to our neighborhood playground. He pulls onto the shoulder, parks under some tall trees, and turns to me, taking my hand between both of his.
“Let me tell you something. You trust me, McD?”
I nod as a tear slips down my cheek. I look down, and Rayne nuzzles my jaw with his cheek. “Look at me, Sky. Please. So it’ll sink in.”
I nod slowly…and then I do. Rayne looks adamant and…sure…about whatever this is.
“If people had known you?” he says. “Good people, who had the heart and open-mindedness and freethinking-ness to see you with clarity?” His eyes widen. “They would have loved you.” He swallows, and I’m pretty sure his eyes are glittering in the morning sunlight. “I know that for fucking sure. You would have been the favorite. Like you were. You would have still been. People would have thought you were a good egg. They would have still thought that.
“If you had had a tribe,” he says, “they would have maybe valued you even more, because we queer dudes are more rare.” His lips twitch. “We have power and perspective other people don’t—not because they’re not as good or some shit—but because that’s not their angle. Clear-eyed people would have seen a smart, kind, incredible, gifted kid who was even better for being gay. Someone who could grow up to be a leader, a stand out. In the best damn ways.”
I’m about to break down, and Rayne pulls me up against him, wrapping an arm around my head so my face is down against his shoulder.
I hate crying. I try not to do it until I can’t stop myself. But Vance’s hand is stroking the back of my hair. His lips are brushing over my temple. His other arm is locked around my back.
“You know what I think is happening right now?” he whispers. “With all the good people that have a big heart?” His hand traces up and down my spine as I shake my head. “People are thinking, ‘Damn, that’s a big secret.’ People who can do the empathy thing feel empathy for you. They want you to be okay. And me, too. All the good guys are rooting for us both, Sky. So now the game is seeing if we can hang in here while the dust settles. Or if it’s too much,” he says in a voice that’s careful.
Tears drip from my chin onto his shoulder.
“And if it’s too much, I know it won’t be what you were hoping. But we’ll redo our happy ending. Set it someplace else.” I feel him take a big breath, and he hugs me tighter. “All I want is to be the one to hold you. I don’t care where we wind up. Where you go, I go.”
Vance
I could tell he was getting emotional when I was talking about learning love from other people. Something about his face changed—his features going too still, as if moving even an eyebrow or his mouth might make him cry.
I haven’t seen Sky break down a lot of times. Mostly when I was in the hospital, or he was. His eyes get red sometimes when he worries about something happening to me. Another hate crime sort of thing. But he doesn’t really lose his grip on himself. For a while, I thought he should—so much so that I almost wanted to prod him to just cry it all out—but now he’s holding onto me so tight it hurts, and there’s a weight in my stomach like I swallowed a rock. I realize I hate this. I can’t stand to see him in pain.
“Thank you,” he says hoarsely.
He presses his forehead into the nook between my neck and shoulder, and I rub a circle on his hard back.
“You know what I think?” He shakes his head, his damp face rocking against my shoulder. “I think everything’s going to bother you a lot for a while. Every new thing that happens with you being out, and with the church. Eventually, though, it’s gonna all die down.” Shit; maybe ‘die’ wasn’t the right word. “Settle down,” I amend, and he’s smiling crooked as he lifts his head off of me.