Page 71 of Breaking Free
“I feel like shit for being so afraid to tell my parents when that’s how your dad reacted.”
“I’m just glad you had a better reaction.”
“Dominic,” he says quietly. I don’t look at him. I can’t. I’m on the verge of too many emotions. “It’s okay to be sad about it.”
I shake my head, looking away. “Don’t.”
I’ve never allowed myself to be sad. I’ve only been angry. He squeezes my hand, and a good thirty seconds go by before I feel him move and climb into my lap, straddling me while wrapping his arms around my neck.
I break down, my head on his shoulder as I finally cry about my fucked up childhood.
“I don’t know why he always hated me,” I sob. “I’m mad my mom never stopped him, but I feel guilty for not being able to save her from him either.” He squeezes harder and I wrap my arms around him. “I don’t know what I did to deserve that life. I hate him. I hate him. I hate him.”
It takes a few minutes before I calm down and pull away, pressing my forehead to his. We stay connected like that for a little bit.
“Thank you,” I say. “Sorry for being a mess.”
He lifts my face and stares into my eyes. “Don’t apologize.”
“You’ve made me vulnerable, Campbell.”
“That’s okay.”
I wipe my face and he eases back but still stays on top of me. “I’ve never been in a relationship.”
“Never?”
“No. I don’t like to open up to people. Big surprise, right?” I choke out a laugh. “I don’t like being vulnerable. I like controlling the situation, and dating doesn’t offer me the same amount of control.”
“So, you just do hookups?”
“Basically. There’s two people I’ve been with more than once, and that was twice and three times. Never more than that.”
I see the wheels turning. “So, this is temporary?”
“I thought it was. You were in the closet. I didn’t have to worry about a relationship.”
“But I’ve started coming out.”
“Right.”
“So, what now?”
“Exactly. What now?”
We stare at each other for several seconds before he climbs off my lap and sits next to me. I shift around to face him, because we definitely need to see this conversation to the end.
“What’re you thinking?” I ask.
He shakes his head slightly, a couple locks of his blond hair falling across his forehead before he sweeps them back. “I don’t know. I uh...I guess I never thought I’d be out of the closet, so I didn’t think past secretive hookups.”
I nod once. “And now that your parents know, and a few of your friends?”
“I want to be able to be me. I hate living like this—pretending I’m into girls I’m not interested in, lying about why I never have serious relationships, and not being able to talk about...people I like.”
I arch a brow. “People?”
He grins, but doesn’t clarify. “But what about you? I think we’ve surpassed being together three times.”