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“I don’t want to. God knows, I love you. But—”
“Just go.” He wouldn’t beg. He’d done enough begging for scraps in his life; he would never do it again. Broken deeper than he ever believed possible, he turned his back on the man he thought he finally found forever with. “I won’t even make you say the words. I know what your son means to you. But I need you to leave now. It hurts too much to look at you.”
***
In his bedroom, Robby waited until he heard the slam of his front door before he pulled his shirt over his head. Woodenly, he tugged open the drawer to his nightstand and dug out the shiny silver blade singing to him with promises of peace.
In a way, he could thank Parker for this. After all, it was the very razorblade he’d left on the table at John’s place the first time he’d brought over cocaine. And Harry.
After what he’d endured that night, the icy hot sting on his arm had barely hurt at all. It grounded him, entranced him, comforted him.
He turned the blade over in his hands, remembering the last time he’d made a cut with a razorjust like this one. Not on himself, but on Harry. There’d been so much blood. And by some miracle, the cops called it a suicide. No one—not even John—even considered the possibility Robby could’ve ended the bastard’s life.
Just a little of Harry’s own GHB in his drink. A cut to the throat and to both wrists. He’d bled out in less than five minutes.
Robby packed up his things and moved out of John’s apartment the same night, and no matter how scared or hopeless or alone he felt, he’d never cut himself again. He’d never even taken it out of the drawer once he put it inside. Not once. Not until now.
***
Matt
This can’t be happening.
Matt stared at the steering wheel of his car, willing the events of the past twenty-four hours to unmake themselves. Nothing he’d ever felt could compare to the hope and pure joy coursing through him in the parking lot the night before.
He finally knew what it meant to love someone and to be loved in return. The soul-deep connection they wrote songs, wrote poetry about. The kind of love that made you stand outside someone’s window with a fucking boom box playing a Peter Gabriel song.
But can you love someone you don’t even know?
The answer stuck in his throat as Robby’s words about killing a man echoed in his head. He shut the memory down, wrenched his body out of the seat, and stomped the short distance to the apartment door. He knew Robby, even if he didn’t know every detail of his past. But it didn’t matter.
He knocked with desperation, sending pain radiating through his knuckles.
The door flew open, and he stumbled into Patty, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face into the crook of her neck. The scent of her favorite soap grounded him in familiar comfort.
She allowed the embrace for a moment, even returning it briefly before she pulled him inside and onto the couch. “Aw, Matty.” She held both of his hands in hers. “I’m so sorry.”
The truth of her words echoed in the sincerity of her voice and the sadness in her eyes. It pulsed through the connection they’d shared for so many years. All she’d had to do was look at him, and she knew he needed her.
“Everything Parker said was true, Pat, about the club. It was as awful as he described—and Robby was there.” He choked on the last words.
Patty nodded her understanding. “How long ago?”
He pulled away from her and covered his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Tonight. I know it won’t matter to you…I know this looks bad, but Robby’s a good guy. The stuff he did before? He’s different now. He’s clean.”
She pulled his arms down to reveal his face. “You can’t know that. I told you, no excuses. I just can’t have that shit around Jimmy. Drugs killed Shawn. Finding him like you did…what if Jimmy ever stumbled on something like that?”
“Oh, I know.” He laughed darkly. “I’m still not over it. I won’t get over this either, losing Robby. But I deserve it, right? After the way I hurt you.”
Patty groaned. “It’s not the same thing.” She sighed. “You didn’t lie to me, Matty. I lied to myself. And when I didn’t get what I wanted, I acted like a spoiled child. I hurt you. I hurt myself. I see it now. This isn’t about hurting you, though. It’s about protecting him.”
He could only stare at the growing resolve on her face.
“I am so…deeply ashamed of the way I’ve treated you. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I’m really am over the idea of us, together. I just want to be your friend again.”
“You’ll always be my friend,” he murmured, wiping the moisture from her cheek with his thumb.
“I got all jealous over the idea of your guy meeting Jimmy because I was afraid I’d waited too long to get my shit together—and maybe the two of you would end up wanting to raise Jimbo without me. I don’t care if you’re gay, but I hate seeing you so hurt right now.”
