Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97417 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 390(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
He sighed. “No. But I’m not strictly straight either.”
The wrinkle on her forehead deepened. “Are you bi? Pan? Fluid?”
He smoothed down his thighs and stretched his neck. “The person I was seeing is—” Oh fuck. Was he really going to say it?
Yes. It might be too late, but finally saying it aloud felt right. Like he was coming clean and shedding the doubt and confusion that had held him back.
“He’s...a man.”
He pushed out the breath he’d been holding and clutched his knees.
Meg blinked at him. “You’ve been dating a man?”
He nodded.
“But you’re not gay?” A skeptical eyebrow flicked up to her hairline.
“I know, it sounds like I’m in denial when you say it like that.”
“Yep.”
“I’m not gay. I’ve never found guys attractive, ever. I don’t think I’m bi, because I still don’t find guys attractive, except for him. He’s...special.” Fitch pushed fingers through his hair. “But it doesn’t matter anymore, he ended it.”
“Is he the one who texted you at dinner?”
The memory made one side of his mouth curl up and he didn’t bother to hide it from his sister. “Yes.”
“And the reason you’ve been mopey lately?”
This time he pressed his lips together. “Yeah, I suppose.”
Meg nodded and adjusted so she sat facing the television. “Heartbreak sucks.”
“That it does.” He sighed.
“Can I ask, why did he break it off? What did you do? If it was because you wouldn’t be out of the closet with him, I’m going to kick your ass.”
Fitch winced. Had his reluctance played a part in the disaster their relationship had become? Had he somehow made Ansel feel unworthy? “He said I deserved better.”
“Do you?”
For some reason her question, more than anything else, just kneed him in the balls. His chest ached with the emptiness he’d been hiding from since Ansel had shut the door in his face. He couldn’t catch his breath as he shook his head, staring at the floor between his feet.
He remembered the vulnerability in Ansel’s green eyes their first night together, the way he memorized poems and spoke about his friends, the laughter in his voice when they talked, how amazed he’d been when his brother came back into his life. All of these things, they didn’t fit the image of the guy with a bruised eye and defeated shoulders. And suddenly it clicked—Ansel had been running away again.
“Fuck.” His voice full of the pain he’d been holding back. He’d made a mistake. He didn’t deserve better. There was no one more amazing, more vibrant, more alluring, more fun, than Ansel Becke. And he’d walked away from all that wonderful energy without looking back.
Without fighting.
He’d been a coward. A stupid, blind, jealous coward.
No, he didn’t deserve better. But Ansel did.
* * *
“Where are you going to live?” Ange sipped her coffee.
They’d found a middle ground for their traditional Saturday breakfast, halfway between her new place and their old one. It was a semi-gourmet breakfast spot that boasted a design-your-own-omelet station. Ansel had ordered a sausage and mushroom omelet. It was time to break old habits. Eating something new at brunch every Saturday was an easy way to start.
“I’m not sure. I’ll be sleeping on Z’s couch for the first few nights, but beyond that I’ll have to play it by ear.” Z was still giving him the cold shoulder, but had made it clear that Ansel would be staying at his place until he got his shit together because that’s what real family did. They helped, even when they were mad.
Ange’s lips thinned as she twisted the paper of her straw into a ball. God, he’d missed her. He never appreciated how nice it was to see her every day. Nor had he realized all the little things she’d done around the apartment. Without her, the space felt empty and unfinished. Hell, his soul felt empty these days.
“Promise you’ll call me before you resort to sleeping under a bridge somewhere. We don’t have a lot of room, but I’d rather share a bed than think of you on the streets again.” She didn’t meet his eyes and he knew she was feeling terrible for moving out.
“I don’t blame you for leaving. And I’m not going to end up like Ray. I know I have people in my corner. I might, occasionally, forget I can lean on you, but I know you’ll always be there to pick me up.”
She reached over the table and rested her hand over his. “You can count on it.”
Their food arrived and his omelet turned out to be damn good. And to think if he’d ordered the same as always, he would never have known.
Change wasn’t always easy, but it could lead to great things. Or at least that was what Susan had said in her confession during the AA meeting yesterday. Eating something new wasn’t quite so earth-shattering as staying away from booze, but it was still new. And change was something he needed to learn to embrace so he could transform his life through sobriety.