I stop myself. It's not love that does this. It's never love.
This is hate. And it uses love, twisting it and drawing it close until it can destroy it or turn it into something unrecognizable.
He winces and I pause, giving him time to pull everything back in. "Turns out Mr. Wonderful isn’t a vegan body builder after all. He’s been juicing the whole time and I don't mean carrots." Graham winces as I pat the first layer of concealer in place. "I caught him and called him on it. You don't really need the details. Just pull up every stereotype about 'roid rage you can think of."
I hold up a couple of different pots of concealer to his face, hoping that I've got one that'll be close to his skin tone.
"Guess I'm lucky you have an inner RuPaul and not an inner Martha Stewart, huh?"
I choke on the strangled laugh and lower my forehead to his. "That's not even funny." But I'm smiling through tears as I start patting concealer into place with a brush, being as gentle as I can. I will not fall apart on him. He needs me to keep my shit together. And that's exactly what I will do. "Are you going to report him?"
He shakes his head. "Do you know what happens when a gay man walks into a police station to report domestic abuse?"
I make a noise. "It's probably on par with what happens when a girl from the wrong side of the tracks tries, huh?"
"Probably. You get all of the 'what did you do to deserve it?' I get 'that's what you get for sucking cock.' And you don't have to say it. I know it's not all cops." He presses his lips together and blinks rapidly.
"Don't cry. You'll ruin your foundation."
He laughs quietly. "That was my biggest fear."
I set the concealer with a translucent powder then hand him a mirror. "I'm not as talented as Mitchell but I think it'll get you through the night without our boss freaking out."
He turns his head and inspects my work. "Very nice. Now I don't have to use it as small talk behind the bar." He tugs me down on the small chair next to him. "Thanks, hon."
"For doing your makeup?"
"For not pushing me to report him. For just listening."
I rest my head against his shoulder for a moment. "That's what we do, right? We stick." I shift and look up at him. "Want me to go with you when you get your stuff out of his place?"
He smiles. "While I realize you are a badass, I'm not sure you're going to intimidate all two hundred and fifty pounds of not vegan body builder."
"No but I could at least hope that he'll behave in front of company." I squeeze his hand. "I don't think you should go back alone, that's all."
"You're probably right but shouldn't you be making plans with Sergeant Sexy Pants?”
Graham is entirely too perceptive. “When did he stop being Mr. Tall, Dark, and Depressed and start being Sergeant Sexy Pants?”
I want to tell him how, for the first time in my life, a man didn't make me feel bad for being who I was.
“Nice dodge.” I look over at him. "You don't get to say no. I'm not letting you do this alone."
He squeezes my hand. “Maybe I’ll go back tomorrow or something. Not tonight.”
I nod and we both head out to work. I smile and nod and make all the right noises.
But I am pulled away. I can’t think, can’t focus.
And when the alumni event ends an hour early, I clock out. Escaping the polish and glossy life at the Baywater for something else.
Something real.
And I only hope I can find it.
Chapter 14
Josh
There is still an hour before I’m supposed to meet Abby. I take a long pull off my beer, wishing the time would hurry the hell up already. Caleb is at the end of the bar, talking with a girl who clearly looks like she'd believe him if he told her he was a Nazi hunter.
"Doesn’t he have some hapless girlfriend, or is every female of the species at risk?" I ask Eli, only mildly curious why he's on the prowl tonight.
"Apparently she caught his dick playing hide-and-seek somewhere it wasn't supposed to be and she dumped him," Eli says quietly.
I raise my glass in mock salute to her. "Guess she's smarter than I gave her credit for." Anyone with a brain in their head isn't going to be able to stand being around Caleb for more than ten minutes.
I glance down the bar. Caleb is leaning a little too close to the girl. There is a comfort in his every move. A confidence.
"He fits right in here, doesn't he?"
Eli shakes his head, his eyes dark. "He's got just as much a place here as you."
I tip my glass. "Sure enough."
Eli opened this bar specifically to draw in local veterans and apparently, he's got a knack for finding the walking wounded and bringing them into the fold. I admire him for what he does. I couldn't do it, but he's right in more ways than one. We need each other—we're the only people who get what our brothers and sisters in arms have gone through.