Page 47 of His Secret Santa
Holden turned away as his eyes filled.
Jamie frowned. “Hey…” he murmured and touched Holden’s arm. “What is it?”
His emotions bubbling to the surface, Holden whispered, “I… I didn’t tell you everything about the party. Something else happened.”
Jamie tensed. “What?” He swallowed. “Did they do more to you than what you told me?” Fear flickered through his eyes and Holden knew where his mind had gone.
“No,” Holden mumbled. “Nothing… like that.”
Jamie let out a shaky breath. “Thank God. I would’ve fucking killed them—literally fucking killed them.” He rubbed his brow. “Then what was it? What else happened?”
Holden swallowed nervously. “I… I found out something about Lincoln.”
“What?”
“Lincoln is… he’s… gay.”
“What?” Jamie’s eyes widened. “How do you… did he tell you that?”
Holden shook his head.
Confused, Jamie asked, “Then how do you know?”
His throat knotting, Holden trembled. “Because I saw it with my own eyes.”
“Saw what?”
Holden swallowed. “The tattoo.”
• • •
Leaning close to the mirror, he touched his split lip. It was healing and no longer glaring. There wasn’t much he could do about it, anyway. The mask didn’t cover his mouth. The punch had been unexpected—but deserved. He envied Holden, having such a loyal friend. They weren’t easy to come by.
Lincoln straightened and stared at his reflection. His friends would shit their pants if they knew he felt more comfortable in a G-string—or these glittering skimpy shorts he was wearing now—than he did in his regular clothes. And they would have a fucking meltdown to learn his new job was stripping for men.
But his friends weren’t the issue. Not tonight. His big plans for this night had been derailed. He was flying blind, and he didn’t know what the fuck to do now.
Lincoln picked up the red leather mask he’d worn two years ago when he’d sneaked into the club to get close to Holden. He hadn’t expected or intended for things to go so far, and when they did… he felt guilty for deceiving Holden and not revealing his identity before they engaged in such intimate acts. When he’d invited him to come back to the club on his eighteenth birthday, he hadn’t meant to wait that long before privately confessing to Holden. But with each day that passed, the harder it became to take that step.
Admit it—you were too fucking scared to tell him.
Scared that Holden would be unable—or unwilling—to keep his secret.
Scared of it leaking out into the school, into the community… and back to his dad.
He touched the tattoo etched over his heart and his vision blurred.
“I’m a fucking coward, Sam,” he whispered. “I wish I was brave like you… but I’m not.”
Lincoln stared into his teary, loathing eyes… and pulled on the mask, hiding again from the world, from himself… from Holden.
• • •
“Tattoo?” Jamie frowned. “What tattoo? And how does a tattoo prove he’s gay?” Jamie was lost—what was Holden talking about? How could Lincoln Pratt be gay? Despite his confusion, Jamie knew that Holden wouldn’t make this up—even out of desperation. And he sure as hell wouldn’t lie to Jamie.
“The tattoo.” Holden glanced anxiously at the VIP room door. “You saw the stripper. Remember the tattoo on his chest?”
“I vaguely remember him having a tattoo,” Jamie said. “It was hard to see anything that night. The lights were flashing all different colors, and the strippers were all oiled up and reflecting the light.” He shook his head. “What does the stripper’s tattoo have to do with Lincoln?”