Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84002 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 420(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
And he’d said the same thing to Shane. He’d thrown the same word at Shane, projecting his own fear at Shane. Because back then, he hadn’t really known if Shane was gay or not. Either way, it didn’t make using the word okay, but now it felt worse….
He looked over at Shane, who still watched him, something different in his eyes, as though he was surprised that Van sat in the dirt beside him. Surprised Van hadn’t made a comment at his admission, maybe?
“You’re doing the same,” Van told him. “Though, I don’t use that word anymore.”
“What do you mean?” Shane’s brows pulled together. Van could see the confusion spelled out in the wrinkles his admission caused on Shane’s forehead.
“I mean I’m gay.” Which again, made him feel even worse for what he’d done.
Shane inhaled a breath, shaking his head. He moved his fishing pole from one hand to another. “I don’t know what to say to that…not with our past. I owe you a thank you for yesterday though…for sitting with her. I….”
“You don’t have to thank me,” Van replied. “I enjoyed her company.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t handle me with kid gloves, complimenting the fucked-up, quiet kid. I don’t need that shit from you. That’s not who I am anymore.”
“Is that ever who you were?” Van asked, then continued. “That’s not what I’m doing. You don’t know me, Shane. Maybe you think you do, but you don’t. Don’t assume you know how I feel or don’t feel. She is kind…and proud as hell of you. She talked about you the way a mother is supposed to talk about her son.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Shane asked.
“Exactly what I said.” Maybe he shouldn’t have been acting that way, but Van couldn’t help it. He sighed, shook his head, and added, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be an asshole. I’m not even sure why I am. I meant what I said though. It wasn’t a problem. I’m glad I was there and it was nice talking to her. If you don’t want me to apologize for our past, I sure as shit don’t want you to thank me for yesterday. I don’t need thanks for that.”
“She’s the most important person in my life. I can’t let what you did go without making sure you know what it meant to me.”
And that was why they were there. Why Shane had reached out. Christ, the man was loyal. He always had been. He’d known it when they were kids, the way Shane had always defended his mom and he knew it now.
They locked eyes again and Van noticed the flecks of gold in his light brown irises. They were a unique color; one he wanted to paint but wasn’t sure he could get it right.
They were filled with questions and he figured Shane saw questions in his gaze too. They stared at each other for a moment before Shane asked, “That time, outside my house. When I caught you and Jonathan spray-painting. You said he’d kill you. Who were you talking about?”
When he was younger, he would have protected that truth above anything else, but in that moment, back in his hometown looking at the boy who was his biggest regret, Van opened his mouth, and answered honestly, “My father.”
He saw Shane tense up. Saw the doubt…then the shock.
“I don’t want your pity,” Van told him. “I got over it a long time ago.”
He was surprised when Shane chuckled. Van didn’t ask why. He figured he knew, anyway. Shane felt the same about him. He didn’t want Van’s pity over the way Shane had been treated when they were younger. They were the same that way. That didn’t mean Van didn’t feel as though he still owed him an apology.
They were quiet for a few moments, before Shane said, “Hold my rod, real quick. I need to take a piss.”
Van glanced his way. “We know each other well enough for me to hold your dick while you piss?” Nervousness filled him, wondering if the joke was too much, too soon.
Shane shook his head but Van could have sworn he saw a small smile tease his lips, which he considered a small victory. He didn’t reply though, just handed his fishing pole over to Van who took it, and then he watched Shane slip through the trees and disappear.
When he came back, Van would thank him and then leave him alone.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Shane’s head was fucking spinning. The kid he hated more than anyone else had grown up to be a gay artist who’d had an abusive father that Shane had never known about? It didn’t make sense. He’d always envied Maxwell with his perfect fucking life. Had he really been afraid of his father or was it an exaggeration?
But Shane remembered the fear in Max’s eyes. “Please…he’ll kill me….”