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What I keep coming back to is that not once in the fifteen months I was with Maddie did I ever ask myself if I was with her because it was easy, because I wanted to avoid facing the deep, dark truth about my sexuality.
Now I think maybe I should have.
Thanks to facing what I was sure was certain death at Eli’s tattooed hands, I’m questioning everything I thought I knew about myself.
I thought I could shove my sexual attraction to men into the back of my soul’s closet, lock the door, throw away the key, and it would stay sealed in there for the rest of my life.
I forgot all about that tiny crack at the bottom of the door where shit could sneak out even if I never open that door again.
What I think I’m starting to realize is that you can’t pick and choose what pieces of yourself to keep and others to throw away.
Eli is a perfect example of that. He fully embraces himself as an evil monster rather than try to spin his murders as some type of vigilante justice. Rightly deserved justice. Which, as far as I know, the ones here in Virginia were deserved.
Maybe he’s too accepting of his darkness while I deny that mine exists.
Not that being bisexual is a darkness. After all, most of the decent people in the world fully encourage the idea of loving whoever the hell you want, regardless of their gender.
I think that’s my hangup.
With Eli, it was just sex, purely physical. Lust. So how the hell do I figure out if I could ever love a man the way that I love Maddie?
Because I do love her.
At least I think I do. Unless I’m just kidding myself…
“Damn, kid,” Colt says as he flips on the lights. He shuffles his bare feet into the kitchen in his cotton shorts and tee, his short blond hair standing on end, eyes still bleary with sleep and pours himself a cup of coffee. “You look like you’re thinking so hard you’re gonna burn your brain up.”
“It’s possible,” I agree. “What time is it?” I ask him, too lazy to pull my phone from my jean pocket.
He looks up at the clock on the microwave I can’t see from the table. “Just six-thirty. Couldn’t sleep?” he asks, sipping his coffee before coming to join me at the table.
I shove both of my hands through my greasy hair that needs a wash just to keep my head from hitting the table. “Nope.”
“Want to talk about it?”
“Not really.”
“Because you don’t think talking it out will help or because you don’t want to drudge up shit from the past that’s fucking up things in the present?”
I should’ve known Colt would get it without me saying a word. After all, we were both preyed upon by older men in our lives. Except, I was technically an adult unlike Colt who was abused by his uncle as a boy, which is not even close to being the same thing. I feel like shit for even thinking the two of us fall into the same category.
“I can’t figure out if I actually love, loved Maddie or…if I used her to avoid figuring out if I’m into men too or not.”
“Look, I’ve told you before that I spent a lot of time questioning my own sexuality after what happened, right? The question of who you want to be can only be answered by you. Not the manipulative prick from your past. And you don’t need anyone’s permission or approval, not your mother’s and especially not your bigoted father’s.”
“I want to believe that I don’t care what anyone would say. Especially with RJ and Thane getting married and every one of the Savage Kings wishing them well and never treating them differently because they were together. Still, it’s impossible to drown out all the slurs my father berated me with over the years. I haven’t spoken to the man in years, since the night you and I beat him up, but I can still hear his goddamn voice full of disappointment and anger calling me a fag or a twink, and I hate it.”
“He’s your father, for better or for worse, so there’s no escaping that voice you grew up with, the one that shaped you into the man you are today. You have to decide whether or not that asshole’s voice is worth being alone and unhappy. While he may be your father, he’s also a disgusting human being who liked belittling and abusing women and his own son to make himself feel better. You can always tell his voice in your head to shut the fuck up and rot in hell.”
“I almost silenced that bastard’s voice one night. When we were all in Vegas for Greer and Celeste’s wedding. The night I met Maddie. I was getting drunk because I wanted to try and figure out if I could be with a man of my choosing. The alcohol was my courage and would’ve been my defense if I had hooked up with a guy. You know, the old, ‘I was so damn drunk I didn’t know what I was doing’ excuse. Then Maddie sat down beside me at the bar and I…I couldn’t look away.”
“So, you’re wondering what might have happened if you hadn’t met her? If meeting Maddie cost you a chance to answer the burning question in your soul either because you were attracted to her or because you were just relieved that she interrupted your quest for the truth you weren’t ready to face?”
“Yes. All that,” I agree with a slow nod. “Being with Maddie was just so easy from the first second I asked her if I could buyher a drink or if she wanted to grab some dinner with me. Now, I know it was easy thanks to her desperation to escape Vegas.”
“Ah, that does complicate things. You thought there was an instant connection while she was using you as her ticket out of town. Learning her motive now, so long after the fact, would be a hard ass pill to swallow, making you second-guess everything since the moment you met.”
“Exactly. If she had just told me she needed to get out of the city, I still would’ve asked her to come home with me. I would’ve known her agenda, though, not mistaken it for a fake connection. I thought I had hit the jackpot in the casino and won the lottery at the same time when she lied and told me we got married.”
