In retrospect, it probably wasn’t a good idea for Paul to sequester himself for a long weekend with nothing the meager contents of his refrigerator and a well-stocked liquor cabinet.
Three days. Three days of silence from Steven. Three days of messages from Ace. Three days of hating himself.
Paul felt like such a fool. And, worse, he knew better. He’d always known better. This was why he had rules. This never would have happened if he had followed his instincts as he’d always done.
Even if the path he’d been following led to an empty life.
Right now, though, that path looked mighty good. At least Steven was there.
Well, that damage had already been done. He hoped his brother would eventually come around and speak to him again, but his hope sank with each day of silence.
The despair would be bad enough if that was all Paul was battling. The jealousy over seeing Ace with that muscled gremlin was rubbing him absolutely raw. Tanner was touching his man like he had some sort of right to, and everything inside Paul went ice cold.
He didn’t want to hear excuses. Didn’t want to hear that he’d been taken for a fool. So he didn’t do anything but hide — the one thing he’d always been good at. He hid in his condo and hid in himself.
Paul hated how stupid he felt. He thought he and Ace were on the same page. He had never — never — felt so at home with himself before. There were times he looked at Ace and saw his love mirrored in those beautiful blue eyes.
For the first time, he really fit with someone and could be his true self. At least while they were alone together.
Apparently, he should have been worrying about the times they weren’t together.
Fucking Tanner Caldwell. Paul had meant to talk over that clusterfuck with Ace, but then Steven had happened. And then it happened.
Paul peered down the neck of his nearly empty bottle of Jack Daniels and swallowed the remainder in one gulp.
All those baby steps he’d painstakingly made weren’t enough in the end. Ace obviously wanted someone who wasn’t so much trouble to be with. Someone easy.
That college punk was the very definition of ‘easy.’
Lacking any more liquor, Paul slumped on the couch and waited for night to come so he could go to bed.
None of these scrambled, bitter arguments changed the fact that he was still completely in love with Ace, and Ace clearly, visibly didn’t feel the same way.
The doorbell shook him out of his thoughts. He opened the door and found his arms full of Holly, who squeezed him tight.
“Is it okay that I’m here?” she squeaked against his chest, still bear hugging him. “I couldn’t wait any more. I mean, this has been killing me, knowing all of this — oh, but I mean I know it’s been killing you worse than it’s been killing me, of course. You poor thing!”
Paul chuckled, the first laugh he’d really meant since that day at Ace’s house.
“Well,” he said. “I guess that makes us a couple of really sad corpses.”
That made Holly hug him even harder before she finally pulled back. “Now, don’t kill me,” she said.
“Kill a corpse?” Paul arched an eyebrow. “Overkill much?”
Holly leaned out into the hallway and pulled Steven, looking sheepish and wary, into the foyer.
“Hey,” Steven said in a small voice.
“Hey,” Paul echoed, his face drawn carefully back to neutral.
Holly looked back and forth at the two men as the silence filled the room. Then she stepped in to mediate.
“Okay. It’s time to make up,” she announced. “Apologize if you have to — and I mean both of you. Or, you know, don’t apologize. You’re guys. Fight. Punch things. Then make up. I. Mean. It. No excuses.”
She squeezed Paul’s arm and gave Steven a peck on the cheek, then darted out the door.
Neither man wanted to be the first to break the silence, so they both stood there, looking anywhere but at each other.
“So, you wanna?” Steven finally said.
“Wanna what?”
“Fight. Punch things.”
“Will that make me less gay?” Paul was still hurt that his best friend was acting this way, and he could feel his strained emotions fray further.
Steven winced at the word “gay.”
Paul sighed harshly. “You’re not ready to do this. Call Holly and tell her to come get you.” He turned to go back to the couch, but Steven reached out to stop him.
“No,” he said. “I can do this. I have to do this.” Steven took a deep breath. “Holly is little, but she can be unbelievably scary.”
“I hear that,” Paul said.
Steven cocked his head. “Well, she can’t be that scary to you, though, right? I mean, you had already told her about, you know…” He gestured toward Paul.
“The g-word?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, she didn’t really give me a choice.”
Steven frowned. “Would you have told her? I mean if she hadn’t figured it out?”
Would he have? If Holly wasn’t pushing on one side and Ace on the other, would he have stayed silent and alone? Probably. Although right now, silent and alone sounded like a paradise compared to this hell he was twisting in.
“I don’t know,” Paul finally said.
Steven was still having trouble meeting his eye. This was going to take a while.
“So, whiskey? I think whiskey,” Steven said. He held up a bag he brought with him as a peace offering. “You still drink whiskey, right?”
Paul rolled his eyes. No, being gay has changed every single thing about me, including the type of liquor I prefer.
Steven poured two tall glasses of Jameson over ice, and the brothers sat on opposite ends of the couch to drink them.
“So,” Steven started in a tight whiskey voice, “you’re gay now.”
“Yep. Just now.”
“How long? I mean, have you known?”
“Kinda always.” Paul had a feeling that wouldn’t go over well.
And, right on cue, Steven’s frown deepened. “So you’ve been lying to me kinda always?”
“I never wanted to,” Paul said, a pained look twisting his face. “I’m just –” How did he explain this?
“Just what?” Steven snapped. “Just chickenshit? Is that it? You were just afraid?”
“Yes,” Paul said quietly.
Steven’s mouth dropped open, as if he wasn’t expecting Paul to admit that. “How could you be afraid?” he asked, incredulous.
Paul stood suddenly, his frustration pushing his feet around the room. “Have you ever really listened to guys when they talk? Do you realize how totally homophobic most guys are? Especially in a locker room or even just in a group? You should listen sometime. Count the jokes about fags and pussies.”
“Oh come on,” Steven protested. “It’s not that bad.”
“Well, your radar’s not tuned to it. I heard every one.” Paul sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “I was trying to not get my ass kicked in high school. So, yeah, I was scared.”