Sunset Park (23 page)

“Good job, David,” my father said. “You hurt that poor boy’s feelings. Don’t you ever think before you speak?”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” I tried again, looking up. “I got flustered because of you people and your assumptions.”

“Can you blame us?” My mother leaned halfway across the table and gave me the disapproving stare that still had as much power over me as it’d had when I’d been a child. “The way you two behave? There’s more chemistry between you and Raymond than I ever saw with your past boyfriends. It seemed so natural and easy with him. And the way you look at him—”

“Mom,
please
.” My eyes were burning now. I swallowed heavily, trying to force the onslaught of emotion away. Away to the same place I tried to banish my fondness and clinginess; all of the ways I acted with Raymond that I had never,
ever
acted with anyone else. Because he was different, and he was special to me. But there was so much potential for it to fail that it terrified me. “You have no idea how hard this is already.”

My father switched to the seat Raymond had vacated. He pressed a hand between my shoulder blades and rubbed, not stopping even when I tried to push him away.

“Why is it hard? Do you think he doesn’t have feelings for you?”

“Oh, come
on
.” My mother slapped her hand against the table. “If he didn’t have feelings for you, he wouldn’t have reacted that way to you dismissing him as some kind of—”

“I wasn’t trying to dismiss him,” I said from between my clenched teeth. “I was trying to get you two to shut the hell up.”

“I was being supportive.”

“Okay dear, let’s just back off a bit.” My father sighed and dropped his hand. “Let him be for now.”

My mother reluctantly agreed. They spent the rest of the time trying to distract me with news of my extended family. Cousins who were getting married, having babies, or being sent on military tours overseas.

I smiled when appropriate but couldn’t gain much enjoyment from the gossip. I was still analyzing Raymond’s expression as he’d left the room. But I put on a convincing face so my parents wouldn’t worry, and I was glad when they both said good-bye to Raymond before leaving. I shut and locked the door behind them and looked out the window again.

The snow was completely whiting out the sky, and I worried about them traveling in the mess. I also worried about Raymond trudging out into it, or driving, now that Michael had returned his car. Raymond was too fast and reckless on a normal day. My heart skipped a beat at the idea of him angrily plowing through a snowstorm with low visibility.

That concern gave me the courage
to knock on his door. He didn’t say anything, so I knocked again before entering.

Music was quietly playing from his iPhone dock as he rummaged through the closet. He’d replaced his sweatpants with a pair of jeans and tan boots, obviously planning to trek out into the snow.

“Please don’t go out.”

“What do you care?”

I crossed the room and stood behind him, watching him shove clothes around so hard they slipped from their hangers.

“I care a lot.” When he continued to abuse his clothes, I caught his wrist and tried to force him to face me. “Where are you going? It’s bad outside. Even my parents took the subway here from their hotel because they knew it would be difficult to travel. And the subway is unreliable on weekends already so—”

“I know how the subway works. I was born here, remember?”

I bit the inside of my cheek and let him push me out of the way.

“Where are you going—”

“Again, why do you care? I’m just your coworker’s little brother. Makes no difference if I’m going to the goddamned moon or a crack den or to get my dick sucked by some guy on Grindr.”

My hands tightened into fists. “Are you?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“Just tell me.”

“Yeah,” he growled. “I am.”

I’d been waiting for this to happen for the past two months, and now I wanted to explode. Crossing my arms over my chest, I dug my fingers into my upper arms and watched him tug on a black sweater that showcased every line of his biceps and the tapered V of his torso. Someone else would be enjoying that body tonight. Someone else would be tasting kisses and hearing moans that had very briefly been mine.

I watched numbly as he got ready and did not realize I was in the way of the door until he stopped in front of me.

“Move.”

I stayed still and didn’t flinch away from his hostile gaze. “You can believe what you want,” I said in a low, uneven voice. “But I was just trying to end that conversation because… because they were embarrassing me. Not because you’re
just
Michael’s brother. I’m closer to you than I ever was to him. You mean so much to me, Raymond. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

“Yeah?” Raymond braced his hands against the door on either side of my face and leaned close. “Then prove it.”

“How?”

“Tell me why even your parents are cheerleading us being together, but you don’t want it. And convince me that it ain’t got shit to do with me not being secure the way your boy Caleb is.”

This time, I did look away. I dug my fingers into my arms tighter. “What do you mean by secure?”

“What do you think, motherfucker? I don’t got the good job or the big bank account. I’m not even gay. I’m not a safe bet, but you think he is.” Raymond leaned closer, his eyes skimming my face. “Tell me that’s not why, and I’ll believe that I mean something to you. I’ll believe that maybe one day you’ll think I’m good enough for you to give me a shot beyond letting me fuck you when you’re hard up for it.”

“You
are
good enough, but it’s not that easy!”

“Why?” he shouted, grabbing my shoulders. “If you feel the way I feel, why is it so complicated? You know I want you. You know I want you for more than just a quickie in the bathroom.”

“Because I’m scared,” I blurted. “I’m scared of what happens later when things change. It’s not just about Caleb.”

Raymond’s brows lowered and his grip on my shoulders loosened, but before I could say anything more, before I could explain, my phone rang and shattered the moment. I inhaled shakily, ripping it out of my pocket.

Caleb’s picture stretched across the screen.

“Don’t pick up,” Raymond warned.

“I have to. He had the meeting with his boss, and he hasn’t gotten back to me about—”

“I don’t give a damn about his job or his boss or if his balls are rotting off.”

I jerked away from him, frustration building until I was overwhelmed enough to cry. “Why do you have to be so unfair? I’m trying to be a friend to him—”

“Goddamn you!” Raymond slammed his fist into the wall. Once, twice, and then jerked away from me with a string of Spanish swearing. He paced the room before swinging back around. “You know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. Fuck Caleb. Nunzio was so right about you.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means go to hell.”

Raymond stalked toward me. Instead of asking me to move, he shoved me out of the way.

The front door slammed shut just as my phone started ringing again.

David

FROM OUR
very first meeting, I’d wanted Caleb to like me. Not simply to want me, but to actually like me as a person. I’d wanted him to understand and respect my goals. Maybe even admire them. I’d wanted him to think I was special enough to deserve his attention.

Everything about Caleb’s polished exterior and poise screamed sophistication. It screamed success. He was someone who mattered, and he was making it in New York City. He was also completely out in his personal and professional life, and he’d come out knowing he wouldn’t have the approval of his wealthy family. He was everything I’d aspired to be. I’d just known that if Caleb liked me, and if I was with him, it would mean I was headed in the right direction. It would mean… things were okay. I was okay.

But they weren’t, and I wasn’t, and he hadn’t been right for me. We hadn’t been right for each other.

“You look more upset than I am, sweetheart.”

I hated it when he called me sweetheart.

“Will you come sit by me?”

I hated it when he addressed me in that patronizing tone.

“David?”

And I hated how impatient he was when I didn’t respond or react within the first few seconds of him speaking. Never any time to think, or to consider my words, or to just lapse into a silence without it being a big deal. Caleb liked having things when he wanted to have them, and he didn’t like waiting. I wondered if it was a New Yorker thing or just an alpha thing, but it grated on my nerves. Sometimes I wanted to be moody and quiet, and sometimes I didn’t want to have to explain why that was. And I hated feeling like I was explaining my feelings to someone who would inevitably nod, smile, and proceed to give me unsolicited advice in that
tone
.

“David, what’s wrong?”

Sighing, I threaded my hand through my hair. “I’m worried about Raymond.”

It wasn’t what Caleb had expected to hear, but I only knew that because of the way his lips pursed. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know. We got in an—he left after my parents.”

Caleb looked at me evenly. “You got in a what?”

Damn me and my big mouth. Raymond asked me time and time again not to blab about what happened between us, but I couldn’t help myself. The words came flying out no matter what I did. And Caleb wasn’t the type to let it slide.

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

At that, surprise washed over Caleb, and for the first time he didn’t push. We stared at each other until he looked away, focusing instead on a small, framed picture of Raymond, Michael, and their mom, which sat on the side table. I’d found it in one of Raymond’s boxes along with her memorial card from the funeral home. It had been crammed inside an old, worn Bible. On a different page, I’d found the memorial card for his father. It had an image of St. Jude on it, the patron saint of lost causes. Raymond had chosen it.

After finding the Bible and other pictures of them as children, I’d cried for an hour. I’d been mortified when he found me sitting that way in the middle of the floor with the box open beside me. I couldn’t even think about losing both my parents so close together, and I couldn’t imagine how he must feel, let alone actually feeling it. I’d tried to explain this to him while blubbering, expected and pleaded for ridicule just to distract myself, but he’d kissed my forehead and let me sniffle into his shirt while rubbing my back.

God.

He was so sweet and good and generous.

I hated myself.

“Are you sleeping with him?”

Rubbing at my eyes with the heel of my hand, I said, “No.”

“Are you sure? He’s your type.”

I dropped my hand and balled it into a fist. “Don’t start, Caleb.”

“I’m making an observation,” Caleb said. “Wasn’t the boy you sexted on Grindr also tall and muscular? Rough around the edges? And then there was the time you started talking to that Italian firefighter from Staten Island…. He had a mouth on him too.”

“Do. Not. Go there.”

“Where am I going?” Caleb spread his hands. There was not one emotion visible on his face. “Every time you want to have a fun, sexy fling, you go for the same type. Devastatingly hot, tough, angry about something, maybe someone you can shepherd in some way….”

“I said stop. Please don’t do this right now.”

“Why? Am I wrong?”

I jumped to my feet and jabbed a finger at him. “Yes, you are wrong. You are so wrong about everything you just said, and the worst part is that you don’t even see how condescending and haughty and
horrible
you’re being. You might as well say I’m sowing my wild oats and slumming it.” At his slight smile, I nearly launched myself across the room and punched him in the face. The worst part was that he didn’t seem to care if his mocking smile was a trigger to my temper. “Raymond isn’t some hobby project I’m trying to take on to fix up. He is not a
fetish
. He’s… just….”

“What?” Caleb rose from his elegant pose and crossed the room to watch me lose my cool. “What is he to you?”

I wiped my eyes again and took a large, shaking breath. “I can’t talk about this with you.”

“Why? You said we’re friends now.”

“Because you’re
enjoying
it,” I said fiercely. “And don’t say you’re not. You’re enjoying me being hurt because I hurt you.”

“Is that wrong?” Caleb waited for me to speak and sighed when I refused. “I gave you two years of my life. Years that could have been spent finding someone who actually wanted to be with me. And you don’t give a damn.”

“I
did
want to be with you. But it didn’t work out.”

The words were hollow even in my own ears. Weak and shallow, not a good enough explanation as to why I’d thrown away the love of someone I admired so much.

“It could have worked.” Caleb always said the same thing, and his conviction was as fierce as it had been a year ago. Back when we’d been on a
break
that had resulted in me getting wasted and fucking my way through Lower Manhattan. “It
should
have worked, but your head is so full of a fantasy that you can’t see anything else.”

“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child, Caleb. That’s part of the problem.”

“No, the problem is that you think everything is a romance novel,” Caleb said with contempt. Cracks appeared in the smooth visage of his countenance; the glitter of frustration that preceded him ripping into me. “What was it you said? We didn’t have any
chemistry
? Maybe not. Maybe I didn’t give you what you needed in some ways—”

“I never said that!”

“You didn’t
have
to say it,” Caleb said coldly. “Why else would you go looking for it somewhere else?”

Shame crept into me, eating away at the last remnants of my self-control. I turned away, hating him for breaking me when I was already so frayed, and hating myself for hurting everyone who cared about me.

“Why do you still want to be with me?” I asked. “If you can’t forgive me?”