Page 43 of Point of Contact

Jesse nodded. “He was my best friend. Riley was a good dude, there for me in ways no one else ever was.”

Trevor could feel his lips start to tremble, and he pressed them together, battling for control. “Thank you, Jesse,” he managed. “You don’t know how much I needed to hear that today.”

They sat there in silence for a moment, and finally Jesse leaned back and looked at his watch. “I need to get going,” he said, more than a hint of regret in his tone. “Work this afternoon.”

“Yes, of course.”

Trevor walked Jesse to the door, and as he opened it, Jesse turned to him. “Trevor, I—” He broke off, an uncertain look on his face.

“What is it?”

Jesse squared his shoulders and looked Trevor in the eye. “I want to apologize for that night, the night of the party,” he said. “I was completely out of line, and there’s no excuse for my behavior. I’m sorry.”

Why would he bring that up now? “Oh. Jesse. I, uh, I imagine we were both very different people eighteen months ago. I know I was, so as far as I’m concerned, that’s all water under the bridge. All’s forgiven. Okay?”

Jesse blew out a breath, his shoulders relaxing a fraction. “Good. Okay.”

Trevor opened the door, and as Jesse started to walk through it, Trevor said, “Thanks for coming over, and for everything you did today. It helped more than you know. Truly.”

“I’m glad,” Jesse said softly. “And you’re welcome.”

They shook hands, and Trevor watched Jesse pick his way down the snowy walk to his truck. “Take care,” he called after him. Jesse raised his hand in a final farewell before climbing into his truck and driving away.

Trevor stood on the cold porch long after his taillights had disappeared around the corner.

“Well, that was surreal,” he muttered as he finally stepped back inside. Of all the guys in Riley’s unit Trevor’d thought he might meet again someday, the homophobe wasn’t it.

As he flipped the dead bolt, Trevor couldn’t help but gaze up at the disconnected doorbell mechanism, intense gratitude once again shooting through him. For that simple gesture alone, Trevor would have forgiven him for anything, much less what happened the night of that party.

Jesse hadn’t even had to ask.

Chapter Thirteen

March 2009—Ten months after

“I think you should go with me on Saturday night.”

Trevor froze with his fork halfway to his mouth. “What?”

“To the benefit dinner. I told you about it a few weeks ago, Trev.” Carl took a sip of his wine. “I’ll be giving the keynote address, remember?”

“Oh. Right.” Trevor pushed his plate away, his appetite gone. “I don’t think that’s such a good idea.”

Carl put his glass down with a loud clink. “Why?” he asked tightly. “It’ll just be a couple of hours sitting and eating dinner, listening to me give a speech. You don’t have to do anything but be there to support me.”

And I’ll have to make small talk, listen to people gush about their kids—

Trevor shook his head. “Carl, I—”

“You don’t even think about it first, you just automatically say no. Why won’t you even try?”

Trevor didn’t answer.

“It’s important to me, Trevor. It’s a huge honor to get this keynote, especially because this organization is traditionally known to be very conservative, so as an out gay man, it should be important to you, too.”

Pushing his chair back from the table with an abrupt motion, Trevor grabbed his plate and strode to the sink with it. “I’m not exactly up for being a social justice warrior right now, Carl,” he said harshly, scraping his half-eaten dinner with vicious motions into the sink.

After a moment Trevor felt Carl come up behind him and put his hands on his shoulders. He couldn’t help but stiffen, and Carl let them drop away. “Okay, that was the wrong approach to take. I’m sorry.” He hesitated, then said, “Having you there would mean a lot, Trev. It’s a big deal to me.”