What the hell just happened?
You freaked out. That’s what the hell just happened. Idiot.
Charlie heaved a deep breath, his lungs finally open enough to work again.
Wow. He hadn’t had a panic attack that bad since the morning thugs from the Church Gang had busted into his motel room, forced a black cloth over his head, tied him up, and thrown him into the back of a van. Of course, it made a lot more sense in that situation than it did just now.
Flipping on the light, Charlie turned and rested his back against the door. Why couldn’t he be normal?
“You know you’re going to make things so much harder for yourself. Living like this,” his father had said in their last argument about the long list of things he found disappointing about Charlie. It was an argument they’d had so many times. From the time Charlie had come out at nineteen to the very last. And at the top of dear old dad’s list of WHY CHARLIE WAS A DISAPPOINTMENT AS A SON AND A HUMAN BEING was Charlie’s sexual orientation.
“If things are harder, they’re harder. But I’m not choosing this life, Colonel,” Charlie said, knowing his use of his rank would irritate him. “It’s who I am.”
“You could try—-”
“I’m gay!” Charlie threw his arms wide. “There’s no trying anything. This is just who I am. I’m gay. I’m shy. I’m a loner. I’m a computer geek. I’m fucking awkward sometimes—-”
“Language, Charlie. Show a little respect,” his father said.
“Oh. Like you show me?”
“Respect is earned.”
“And I can’t earn yours as long as I’m gay, right? Fuck this,” he’d said before he stormed out. His father had chased after him, but Charlie hadn’t looked back.
Fuck this. Those were the last words he’d ever said to his father. Less than a year later, Becca had shown up at his apartment and delivered the news that their father had died in Afghanistan.
Charlie threw his shoes to the bathroom floor and clutched at his hair.
The man was dead. And Charlie was twenty--six years old. Why the hell did his father still have so much power over him? Charlie wasn’t sure whether to be more pissed at himself or his father’s ghost.
All he knew was that, so far, he was doing a piss--poor job of living up to his tattoo.
His tattoo.
Jeremy.
Shit.
Even nervous as he was about everyone’s reactions, Charlie felt like hell for denying Jeremy, for saying they weren’t together. Guilt stewed in his gut until he was nauseous.
But he could make that right.
All he had to do was talk to Jeremy. Tell him why he was nervous. And see where Jer stood on the question of coming out to everyone else. For all Charlie knew, maybe Jeremy wanted to keep them quiet for now, too. After all, they were brand new and still figuring things out themselves.
Bending over the sink, Charlie splashed cold water on his face.
Just talk to Jeremy.
Charlie nodded to his reflection in the mirror.
That would make everything better.
JEREMY STOOD IN the darkness and stared at the door for a long time after the conversation faded away. He’d awakened as Charlie attempted to slip out of his room, and gotten out of bed when he’d heard Nick giving the guy the third degree.
Which was how he’d overheard Charlie saying they weren’t together. Twice. Three times, depending on how he looked at it.
After what they’d shared last night—-hell, all of yesterday—-Charlie wouldn’t even acknowledge them to Nick and Becca? Both of whom obviously knew Charlie was gay and Jeremy was bisexual. Shit, as much time as he and Charlie spent together, Jeremy didn’t think it’d strike anyone as a real surprise.
At first, Charlie’s denial had set off an uncomfortable ache in the center of Jeremy’s chest. Being denied like that sucked.
Charlie was shy, Jeremy was well aware. But it wasn’t like the guy was still in the closet.
But then Jeremy had sat on the edge of the bed for a long time, head in his hands, replaying what he’d heard. And the more times he did so, the worse it felt. Not just like being denied, but like being rejected.
His heart hurt, like it was suddenly and violently empty. And then he realized why.
He was in love with Charlie.
He was in love with Charlie, and Charlie was denying to the closest -people in their lives that they were even together.
Fuck.
And here Jeremy had thought he’d be the one to have problems coming to terms with choosing to commit to a man. After all, Jeremy was walking on totally new ground not just considering having a relationship with a man, but actually developing the feelings to commit to one. All the way.
And he had. Jeremy was all in.
All in love with Charlie.
Jeremy sat there so long spinning on what he’d heard and what it meant and what to do about it, that it was well after seven o’clock before he got his shit together, cleaned up, and made his way over to the gym.