In Safe Arms (My Truth Book 2)

by Ann Grech

  “Wha—” I started, but Trent’s scream cut through me, halting me in my tracks.

  “Get out!” His voice was unusually high-pitched, panicked. I opened my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out. The words couldn’t form. My brain had short-circuited, still trying to make sense of what was happening. I snapped my mouth shut, looked to him again, and saw the abject horror in his eyes. It quickly turned to what I could only assume was anger. He clenched his jaw and his eyes turned wild, his body stiffening, and he looked like he was readying to pounce. He didn’t want me there; that much was obvious. But I was glued to the spot. Everything kicked into gear though when he yelled at me to leave again. I fled, barely pausing to collect my things at the front door before I burst through it and out onto our tiny front lawn. My heart thundered in my chest and my palms were clammy, my breaths coming in staccato pants.

  We’d always had an unspoken rule in our house—never go into each other’s bedroom unless invited. I’d blown that rule right out of the water and just when Trent was doing… whatever the hell he was doing. The picture my eyes had painted made no sense to me. He was straight. Straighter than straight, if what I’d thought for years was true. But then, why? Was he experimenting? Just trying it out for curiosity sake? Bored? I was confused. Angry with myself. Shocked. I closed my eyes, and the picture on the television screen popped into my head. Why was he watching gay porn? It was one thing for him to watch straight or lesbian porn. I’d heard all the guys in high school brag about that. I’d witnessed the jerks in college trying to hook up with the lesbian couples so they could participate in a threesome where the girls got it on. Trent was one of those guys sometimes—vocal and ignorant, homophobic—but… what, I had no idea.

  My gaze wandered back to the front door of our townhouse. Everything was normal. Nothing had changed. Visually, everything was still the same. But inside the house, everything had shifted. It’d been flipped on its head. There were so many questions flying around in my head that they were making me dizzy, and I didn’t know what the answers to any of them meant for me and Trent.

  I slid into the front seat of my car and found myself shaking. Regret barreled through me. Why did I act without thinking? Why did I barge in on him instead of giving him the privacy he deserved? Fear. Love. Concern. Hell, it was all those things, but that wasn’t good enough. Trent was a private person. He had walls around him so high and so thick that I didn’t think I’d ever break through. I’d always hoped that he’d open up when he trusted me enough. But now… I’d ruined everything.

  Days had passed and I hadn’t seen him. I didn’t think it was a matter of our schedules not meeting up. Trent was avoiding me, and who could blame him? I’d spent six weeks doing exactly the same thing. I wanted to apologize, but after everything that had gone down, I wasn’t sure if I was apologizing for me or for him. The last thing I wanted to do was make things worse between us. But as I sat at one of the stools along the kitchen counter sipping my espresso, my decision was made for me. Trent opened the front door and stepped inside, scanning the room. I looked to him and he tensed, visibly on edge. I’d hurt him so much that he wasn’t even comfortable being here anymore. That move, that thought shattered my heart. I really had ruined everything.

  “So… eating breakfast?” he asked after a beat of silence that went on for too long.

  “Just coffee,” I mumbled. “Feel like one? I could make it for you.” I sounded so damn eager. Exactly like a puppy. It was kind of pathetic, but this was Trent. I’d do almost anything to keep our friendship intact.

  He slid onto the stool next to me, and I sat there silent and still. I’d gone from a puppy to being scared to spook him. I had expected him to politely refuse, or maybe even ignore me in favor of his bedroom. But this felt like a second chance. Hope bloomed in my chest and I had to tamp down my eager smile when he answered, “Coffee would be great, thanks.”

  I hopped off and practically floated into the kitchen to make him a pod of his favorite. Steaming mug in hand, I slid it across the countertop to him and stayed there watching as he wrapped both hands around it and took his first sip. Eyes closed, he sighed, and I could see the tension draining from him.

  “Trent, I—”

  “Please don’t, Angelo,” he whispered, his voice broken. “I’m not ready.”

  I slumped against the cupboards, grateful to be able to lean on the countertop. “Will you be? One day, maybe? Or have I broken us?” I couldn’t look at him as I whispered the question. I couldn’t stand to see rejection in his eyes. I didn’t realize how hard I was wringing my hands together until he closed his over mine. They were warm and full of comfort, and I soaked up the piece of him he’d given me.

  “The last couple of months has been tough, hasn’t it?” I nodded, and he continued. “It’s on me though, not you.”

  My gaze shot up to his, my brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean? How is it your fault?”

  He shrugged. With anyone else, I would have assumed it was no big deal, but Trent’s grip on my hands told me otherwise. “I made you uncomfortable after the photoshoot. You’ve barely been able to stay in the same room without getting embarrassed.”

  “I wasn’t embarrassed. I was self-conscious.” I took a deep breath and tried to explain what I’d wanted to tell him for years. “The session was hot. My reaction….” I trailed off, the words not coming out.

  “We’re as bad as each other, aren’t we?” It was a question, but not one at the same time. He was right—two peas in a pod. Completely incapable of communicating with each other like adults and now so tentative around each other, it was starting to get ridiculous.

  My cell pinged with an email, but I ignored it. This fragile bridge we were building was far too important to fob off. I huffed a laugh out that held no humor. “Maybe one day we’ll be normal.”

  “Normal is overrated. But talking to my best friend again without walking on eggshells might be nice. Can we hit Pause and try to get back to normal for a while?” He squeezed my hands again before letting go, smiling tentatively. “I don’t want to lose what we have.”

  “Neither do I.” I shook my head. Breakfast was our thing; we cooked together often, and my appetite was returning with a vengeance. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate a proper meal, and if Trent’s hollow cheeks were anything to go by, he hadn’t had much either. “Want to help me make breakfast?”

  He nodded and this time gave me a genuine smile. “I’d like that.”

  11

  Trent

  “You never checked your email,” I remarked, noticing his cell flashing.

  “Eh. It’s Sunday. Whatever it is, it can wait.” I could see the twitch in his eye. It was an effort for him to hold off. He wasn’t a workaholic, but he did work hard. Often long hours too—there was no such thing as nine-to-five with a wedding photographer. I appreciated that he was prioritizing us; he didn’t need to, but I did appreciate it.

  I had a scoop of vanilla ice cream at the ready while Angelo finished spooning cinnamon-infused apples onto our crepes. He folded the thin layer over, somehow managing to divide it right down the middle. It didn’t surprise me that he cooked like a boss; his mom was a queen of the kitchen, but from the aroma I was salivating over he’d outdone himself this time. I couldn’t wait to taste it.

  I dropped the scoop into the middle of the plate and added a second before picking up his cell. “It’ll drive you insane.” I went to hand it to him, but he shook his head, waving me off, concentrating on the second plate. “I know you want to,” I teased. “You get this nervous tic in your eye.” I reached out and brushed my thumb against his temple before I realized what I was doing. He went as still as a statue, and I couldn’t let go, but logically I knew I couldn’t keep my fingers curled against his cheek either. His soft skin against mine had me closing my eyes, sinking into the feeling of him. It was the barest contact, but it was enough to have longing well up within me. It wasn’t desire, although tha
t was certainly there. It was an ache. For freedom. A wish that I could step out into the open and spread my rainbow wings. To soar, rather than skulk in the background. It was becoming harder to resist him because I’d realized I didn’t want to. I wanted to give in and experience love. I’d never had it before, and the likelihood of having it with Angelo was remote—I didn’t even know whether he swung that way and he’d already told me he wanted someone else—but it wasn’t so much the sex that I yearned for. It was intimacy. Trust. A simple touch, like the one I was experiencing at that moment.

  Angelo straightened slowly, and I let my hand fall away as we came face-to-face. I’d never get sick of looking into his eyes. Soft and full of affection, they held a warmth that made me want to sink into them. This time, I knew mine reflected that same affection. I loved him, and yet almost since the moment I’d finally understood it, our relationship had been fucked-up. The last couple of months had been torture. “Trent—”

  “You should check this,” I deflected, knowing I’d give him whatever he asked for in that moment, including my deepest secrets if that was what he wanted. I handed him his cell and he scanned over the email, a look of resignation crossing his face.

  “It’s nothing. I’ll have to send a quick reply after breakfast, but it’ll only take me five to do it.” He blacked out the screen and dropped it on the countertop before getting back to the crepes.

  “Everything okay?” I asked, my question tentative. He didn’t look happy. Not angry, but frustrated perhaps? Disappointed? I wasn’t sure.

  “Yeah, that author I took the photos for was asking whether I could get some more photos but with two men in them. But it’s not gonna happen. Not with the model she wants, anyway.” He dropped the empty bowl onto the countertop a little too hard, the clang making him flinch.

  “Who does she want?” I asked, my gut telling me exactly who it was.

  “You.” Before I could interrupt him, he held his hand up, silencing me. “The last time we had a shoot, it nearly fucked-up our friendship. I’m not letting it happen again.”

  “What if we agree it won’t?” I asked, propping an elbow on the counter. “It’s not like…. I don’t know. Surely it’s not going to be porn-worthy.” At the mention of what I was doing when Angelo walked in on me a couple of months ago, my face flamed and I gulped. Would he bring it up? Would he continue letting me avoid talking about it?

  He gazed at me long and hard. “Sure, okay. We can do a test to see if I can take the shots using a tripod and the timer. If it works, we can do the actual shoot whenever I work out the details with the author.” I knew what Angelo was doing, and I didn’t know whether to be pissed off or grateful to him. He didn’t believe that I’d do it. Giving me a taste of what it might be like so I could back out before he agreed to the photo shoot with this author. But I wanted this. I wanted to break free of the shackles that had bound me for so long.

  “Great. Let’s eat, then we can get started.”

  Angelo was quiet throughout breakfast, and my earlier bravado was waning the longer it took me to eat. It was delicious—sweet and spicy at the same time—but nerves churned within. I may want to let go, but the thought was terrifying. The last time I’d tried to do it my world had been turned upside down. I was scared shitless of the consequences of trying to do it again. But I couldn’t not try either. Not anymore.

  Finally, our plates were empty. I snatched them up and loaded the dishwasher, wiping the counters down as Angelo watched me. I didn’t know if I was freaking out, procrastinating, or nervously excited. Perhaps it was a bit of everything, but I wanted it. “Right,” I uttered after I realized I had wiped the backsplash for the third time. Angelo was there in front of me, and I swallowed before looking up at him, wide-eyed. I froze. He took the cloth out of my hand and tossed it in the sink before grasping my biceps gently.

  “You’re pushing yourself past what you’re comfortable with. I can see it written all over your face. Don’t feel like you need to do this for me. I’m okay with telling her I can’t.”

  “I want to help.” I managed to get the words out around the lump that’d formed in my throat, but my voice sounded scratchy even to my own ears. He didn’t say anything in response, but he watched me, studied me. Waiting to see if I gave the barest hint of reluctance. There was trepidation. A hell of a lot of it. But I’d learned something about myself in these last few weeks. I wanted to give Angelo as much as he gave me. Hurting him, having him avoid me, was hell. I’d wanted to give him space, but the only way I’d been able to do it was to stay away altogether. I’d been sleeping at the station even when I wasn’t on shift, because when I was home, I wanted him with me. Even in my dreams—especially in them—I’d wanted him closer. When I put aside my hang-ups, when I looked into my heart, I saw him front and center. So no, there was no reticence on my part. I wasn’t exactly ready to fly the rainbow flag and dance half-naked in the pride parade, but standing next to him for some photos? I could do that.

  Angelo apparently saw what he needed from me and nodded. He motioned to his office and I followed him there. He had a stand with a roll of gray paper-like fabric as well as all the camera equipment you could imagine. “We’ll do a test shoot against the backdrop. She wants the images silhouetted, so I’ll set the big flash umbrella up too. You want to help me with getting this into the living room?”

  We quickly set it up, moving equipment and furniture around until Angelo was happy with the lighting. My nerves had subsided—until Angelo clicked the camera into place on his tripod and asked me to stand in front of it so he could line up the shot. Then, the kaleidoscope of butterflies dancing around in my belly were whipped up by a tornado whirling around so fast it made me nauseous. It took everything in me not to run and hide.

  Angelo made a few more adjustments and came to stand next to me. He fingered the material of my light sweater and smirked before slipping his hands under it. I gasped at the touch on my skin, my abs quivering. The camera flash lit up the room in bright white light, and I flinched. Angelo leaned in closer, bending down as if he was going to kiss me. I was sure my wide-eyed stare and thumping heart gave away how overwhelmed I was, but he just grinned before tugging on it, pulling the sweater and my tee straight over my head in one fell swoop.

  “You’re trying to make me freeze, aren’t you?” I laughed.

  “I am, but you’re a big boy. You’ll survive.” The laughing and joking around became serious when he cupped my face and stepped in closer, until our bodies were touching. I held on to his hips, unable to break his stare and unwilling too. The flash was lighting up my periphery, but my vision was filled with Angelo. I sucked in a breath, and with every ounce of bravery I held, I slid my hands under Angelo’s tee and flexed my fingers over firm muscle. He let out a strangled moan, and I was empowered. Emboldened to continue exploring. I tugged off his shirt and let it fall to the floor by our feet, then walked my fingers up to his chest. Flashes went off in the background as we stared into each other’s eyes. I swayed closer to him and felt Angelo do the same. My heart thudded in my chest, and my lips were suddenly too dry. I wet them, my tongue tracing the line of my bottom lip, and Angelo’s whiskey eyes darkened, his pupils blowing out. His cock twitched against my belly, and my eyes slid closed on a low moan. I waited, I wished.

  But the kiss never came.

  Angelo shifted, trailing his fingertips around my shoulders as he moved behind me. With one arm over my shoulder and the other under, Angelo pulled me against him and buried his face in the junction of my throat. I dropped my head back against his shoulder and shuddered when Angelo breathed out, his hot breath ghosting over my skin. His hard length pressed against my back, and he dragged his hand down to my hip, holding me there as he rocked gently against me. I hissed out a breath, and he moved his hand so his thumb was caressing my throat, but he didn’t stop. He shifted again, his hand gently closing around my throat, and I froze.

  Memories crashed over me.

  Pain. Anger. P
owerlessness.

  I tensed, my shallow breaths coming out hard and fast. My vision clouded. I heard a noise that sounded animalistic. Tortured. Wounded. I found myself pushing him off. Fighting for my life. I thrashed, yanking myself out of my godfather’s grip. I wouldn’t let it happen again. I wouldn’t let him abuse me another time. I wasn’t the scared sixteen-year-old anymore. I was stronger. I was a survivor. I’d never be hurt like that again.

  I could hear my middle name being called, but I didn’t know why. All I could focus on was the hand that’d closed around my throat. The one that had held me in place while he yanked my sweats and underwear down and slammed into me dry, pushing past the ring of muscle that was unyielding except for the force he applied. Pounding into me through my screams and cries. Pinning me to him while he rutted against me. Forcing me into submission by cutting off my airway. Hatred, vile and evil spewed from his mouth, poisoning my thoughts and making me detest that fundamental piece of my soul reserved for Angelo.

  I couldn’t let it happen again. I wouldn’t. Angelo was too important. He was everything. I wanted happiness. I wanted love. He wasn’t going to take it away from me again.

  My throat closed over, and only a sob escaped. I spun and struck out blindly with a roar, my fear and anger strengthening me. My fist connected, and skin and bone yielded. There was a shout and a flash in my eyes.

  Everything snapped back into focus, and I froze.

  Angelo, not Ryan.

  Our living room, not a kitchen.

  A camera, not a football match.

  My breaths heaved in and out of my chest as I took in the sight before me. Angelo had staggered back and was using the wall to prop himself up. He was clutching his jaw and looking at me with a mixture of horror and fear. What had happened? Oh God. What had I done?

  Tears sprung to my eyes and I staggered to him, but Angelo held his hand up, stopping me dead in my tracks. “Don’t,” he warned. My worst nightmare was coming true before my eyes. I’d hurt him. I’d broken us. I’d ruined the one thing my fucked-up mind was trying to protect. I couldn’t hold myself up anymore, my knees buckling under me. Pain flooded my chest, pulling me under like the swelling of the tide. This time when the animalistic sound came out, I knew it was me making it. I sobbed, grieving for everything that Ryan had stolen from me. That I’d run from.