Page 91 of On Your Knees

Ethan says, “He has footage from that night at the club. When I lost it with that guy.”

“So? Who cares, Ethan? It was ten years ago. And who gives a shit if you’re gay? Fuck your stupid fucking church!”

“It’s not about that! It’s about why and where he got that from and what else he might have. I need to know what he wants.”

“Then I’ll come with you, and we’ll talk to him together.”

Ethan shakes his head. “I need you here with Levi, just in case.”

There it is again.

Just in case.

Patrick catches it too. “Just in case what? What exactly are you expecting to happen?”

“I don’t fucking know, Patrick, and I don’t want to think about it. I already have enough shit to think about, and I don’t want to have to think about that too, so I just need you to fucking stay here so I don’t have to.”

Patrick breathes out harshly. He closes his eyes. He shakes his head. Then he says, “Fine. If that’s what you want.”

Ethan is so relieved that he sinks back against the counter. “Thank you. Fuck, Patrick, thank you.”

Patrick is still upset. “Just fucking go before I change my mind.”

“Levi is everything to me.”

My throat tightens at Ethan’s words.

Patrick sighs. “I know. Just… be safe. You’re everything to him too.”

My heart swells because it means so much to me to have that seen and understood. Hopefully, it will help Patrick understand when I betray him.

I walk over to Ethan. I wrap my arms around him. For a second, I worry that they’ll be alerted by my calmness, but they aren’t. Maybe they think I’m in shock. Maybe I am.

Ethan hugs me back. There’s so much tension in his body. He’s being forced to deal with things that he shouldn’t have to deal with. Because he’s been preyed on. Because no one has ever protected him.

Neither of us says anything. At this point, there’s nothing to say. Ethan pets my hair. I sigh against him.

Then we draw apart, and he leaves.

I walk out of the kitchen, leaving Patrick there. I grab my phone from the entryway and go upstairs, shutting myself into the bedroom then into the bathroom.

I bring up the number that I memorized earlier while looking at Ethan’s phone, the number that I saved in my phone as soon as Ethan started texting him back this morning.

I call that number.

It goes to voicemail, so I call again. I have to call a third time before Jensen finally answers, “Who is this?”

“I can get you information,” I reply. “On John Clifford.”

There’s a long silence, then Jensen demands again, “Who is this?”

“I just need his address.”

“You can get information, but you don’t know where he lives? Tell me who you are.”

“I just need his address,” I repeat.

In the silence, I can practically feel Jensen calculating. He has nothing to lose by yielding the information and possibly something to gain, so he gives it to me. I end the call, cutting off his question about what I’m going to give him.