In Safe Arms (My Truth Book 2)

by Ann Grech

  “Should I run the shower for you?” he asked.

  “Mmm, please.” I nodded. The only thing I wanted to do was fall into bed, but I needed to wash off my shift. I followed him into my attached bathroom and pulled my dark blue towel off the rail while Angelo fiddled with the water. He squeezed my shoulder, then ran his hand down my arm. “I’ll get your uniform in the wash for you while you’re in here.”

  I was a little more awake after my shower. I staggered into my room in just the towel, intending to crash, but what I saw Angelo doing gave me pause. He’d placed a cup of chamomile tea on my nightstand, together with a folded sheaf of lined paper. It was familiar, and his words solidified my knowledge of exactly what it was. “I found this between the sofa cushions. I didn’t read any more than to see it was to your parents. I thought you might have forgotten it there.”

  I took the letter and sat down on my bed, heaving out a sigh. Angelo ran his hand down my back, and I leaned into his touch. “You okay?”

  “Mom’s birthday was on April 18. I logged onto your Facebook account and looked her up, then I wrote this.” I paused. “Sorry.”

  “I don’t care if you log on as me.” Angelo waved his hand, dismissing my concern. He sat down beside me and took my hand in his. “You don’t talk about her. Is your mom still alive?”

  I nodded. “Yeah, Dad too. I haven’t spoken to either of them in years though.” I rubbed a hand over my heart, the pain of walking away from them still as fresh as it was the day I’d left. “What I told you about last time? About my godfather? That was just the beginning.” I opened the letter, seeing my scrawled words for the first time since I’d written them, and held it out to Angelo. “It’s not everything, but it’s more than I’ve told anyone before.”

  Angelo studied my hand as he held it before taking the papers from my other one, folding them again and putting them aside. “Will you tell me about your parents? What they were like.”

  I gave him a small smile. “Dad was right into footy. Not your kind, but rugby. He played it for years, and we watched every one of our team’s home games together. It was a family thing—Mom, Dad, me, and Ryan. Then I started playing too and he was proud as.” I laughed, remembering the fun times we had when I was playing. “He used to take us all for ice cream every time we won.” My smile fell as I thought about Mom and how much I missed her. “My mom was amazing. A complete hardass, but she was the best too. All my friends said she was their favorite. She would make these chocolate chip cookies whenever she got off work early enough. We used to sit down and eat them with big cups of milk after school. We didn’t have a lot of money. Sometimes Ryan would have me over for dinner. It wasn’t until I was a teenager and I heard her telling Dad how she’d maxed out the credit card on pizzas for me and my friends that I realized they probably sent me there because money was tight. But we had fun, no matter what we were doing. They were the best.”

  “It sounds like you had a pretty wonderful childhood.” Angelo smiled, and I nodded.

  “I ran away when I was sixteen. After Ryan and I… after we….” I stumbled over the words. How did I say that I didn’t want him to, but he did it anyway?

  “Trent.” Angelo interrupted my thoughts. “He hurt you. He was punishing you. He wasn’t your first—”

  “Yeah—”

  “No, Trent. He wasn’t. He raped you.”

  His quiet words hit me with the force of a freight train. I sat there, stunned. I’d seen survivors of rape up close before. I’d treated them. I’d watched it happen to my friend while five men pinned us down and hurt her over and over, rendering me powerless to help. I’d never really put myself in the same category. I’d always put it down to him teaching me a lesson. That he was trying to right my wrongs. That I’d forced him to take action. But I hadn’t, had I? All I’d done was be honest with him. I’d shared a piece of myself, and he’d used it against me. He’d taken a piece of me. He’d attacked me.

  Angelo cupped my face with his free hand and nudged my chin up. “Oh, Trent,” he whispered as he brushed away the tears I hadn’t even realized were falling. “You’ve blamed yourself all these years, haven’t you? You ran from him because you thought you’d done something wrong.” When I nodded, he took me into his arms and held me close as I cried. Mourned the rest of the childhood I should have had. Cried for the family I’d lost, for the years I’d struggled. For the fear and loneliness I’d suffered through and the heartache I’d put my parents through.

  When my tears finally dried out, resolve strengthened me.

  “Will you read the letter, Angelo? I want you to know everything.”

  He nodded and picked up the papers from the bed. “Can I read it out loud? Maybe you can decide if you want to send it to them.” God, I wanted to reach out like nothing else. I wished I was strong enough to do it, but so much time had passed. I’d hurt them so much. They probably wouldn’t want to see me even if I did get in contact with them. Hell, they thought I was dead. I closed my eyes and nodded, and Angelo began.

  “Dear Mom and Dad, I don’t even know how to start this letter. I’ve been gone for years. So much time has passed and I’m different today than the boy I was when I ran away. I’m okay. I’ve made a life for myself. A good one. I have friends who are the best I could ask for, and I have a good job too. I wasn’t sure if it would happen, if I could ever get past that night and the fallout from it, but maybe I have. I don’t really know.

  “When I left, I stayed in this cheap motel near the train station. I remember thinking how shabby it looked because the stucco was falling off the walls. But it was luxurious compared to what came after. The cops came looking for me. They must have seen the charges on Jake’s card, and I ran again. I finally fell asleep in a doorway. I was so scared that first night. It didn’t really get any less scary; I just learned the areas that were a little safer. It wasn’t really though. My friend… she got hurt pretty bad in a place we both thought was okay. The ambo who helped her inspired me. That’s what I do now. I’m a paramedic and during the winter, ski rescue.

  “Those nights on the street were all about hiding—from the police, from gangs. It wasn’t safe out there and I was always scared. I wish I’d been brave enough to come home. I didn’t because I didn’t want you to have to choose between us.” Memories flooded my mind’s eye and I shuddered at the memory of the cold fear that took up residence in me. It didn’t leave me for years, even after I’d moved into the group home and finished my high school studies. Angelo paused and took in a shuddering breath. He wiped the tears from his eyes and leaned into me, and I gladly accepted the contact. It was my turn to comfort him and that little thing I could do for him was like a salve to my wounds too. It meant the world. He meant the world.

  “Is that why you ran? You were trying to protect them too?”

  I nodded and clenched my jaw, trying not to start crying again while he continued reading, “I was scared of him. He hurt me. It only happened once, and I know he was trying to teach me something, but I couldn’t face him again. He was your best friend and I didn’t want to make you end that. So, I chose for you. I know I hurt you, and words will never make up for what we all went through, but I’m sorry for my part. I’m sorry I wasn’t smarter. That I hadn’t kept my mouth shut. I could have avoided you going through hell. I’m so sorry. I don’t have a right to ask for your forgiveness, but I wish things could have turned out differently. I think about what it would be like every day to still speak to you. Stopping in to see you, eating cookies and watching the game together. I miss you. So much. I’d do anything to turn back time, but if I did, I wouldn’t have my best friend. He’s worth going through hell for.”

  Angelo kissed my throat, my cheek, and finally my lips, and I wanted to fall into him, to block out the world and never leave his arms. “You are, you know? Worth everything I’ve been through. You’re my light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. I’ve been wandering, lost for years, but you’ve lit up the path. You’ve given me purpos
e. A reason to live my truth.”

  “I love you too, Trent.” We sat there together, holding each other for a moment longer until Angelo went to put down the letter. I reached for him and held in there. I needed him to keep going. To read the next part. So he did. “I saw your Facebook post. I know you think I’m dead, and that’s okay. I deserve it after not coming home again. After probably making you think you’d done something wrong to make me run away, then never letting you know I was all right. I don’t have a good excuse, a good enough reason that’ll make sense to you. But I haven’t reached out because I’ve always been scared to do it. Scared that you’d turn me away or wouldn’t want to see me again. I know I’ve left it for too long.”

  Angelo rested his head on my shoulder and kissed me again. He breathed deep against my skin and murmured, “I’m so sorry, mi amore. I’m so sorry that you went through this. I would do anything to have stopped it happening to you.” I tugged him closer. I needed him. Needed to touch him, to feel him against me. To lie in his embrace. I was safe in his arms. Nothing could hurt me. I shuffled back on the bed and pulled him down with me so we were lying together. It was as if Angelo knew exactly what I needed. He wrapped himself around me and rested his head on my shoulder.

  After a time he spoke again, “I don’t think it’s too late, you know. I think your mom and dad would do anything for another chance to see you again.”

  “How do you know that, Angelo?” I asked. I sounded insecure and afraid even to my own ears.

  “Because if I lost you, I’d give anything, everything, to have one more moment with you.”

  I looked at him. Gazed into his eyes, at the tears shining there. The love and pain. The heartbreak. I took the letter from him and let it fall to the floor before I cupped his nape and brought his mouth closer to mine. I kissed him then, the soft press of his lips against mine, the silken feel of his tongue giving me a high like I’d never had before. His flavor on my tongue, his skin against mine was everything, but not enough all at the same time. I needed to touch him. To feel him against me with every inch of us connected. I found the hem of his tee and slid my hands under it, his soft skin sliding against my palms. The lithe muscles in his back bunched and stretched, tensed and relaxed under my touch, making Angelo shudder and moan as I ran my hands up and down. But I still needed more. I tugged it up and Angelo rose onto his knees, shifting until he was straddling my hips before pulling it off and tossing his tee aside. I sat up, not wanting us to be parted by even that small distance.

  The heat in his eyes, the raw desire stirring there sucked all the breath out of my lungs. He was beautiful. Damn sexy. His flushed skin and his lips parted and wet from our kiss made me want him more. His chest heaved and the pulse point on his throat thrummed, his heart beating fast. And best of all, he was in my arms.

  Angelo threaded his fingers through my hair and tugged me to him. I went willingly. Sighing into his kiss, I mapped his warm skin with my fingertips, running them over his chest and lower toward the waistline of his lounge pants. There were fine hairs on his pecs, and a line that ran down from his navel. Dark hair on tanned skin. The visual had me spinning. Soaring. Flying as desire ricocheted through me. I was hard. Achingly so. But it wasn’t only that. It was triumph too. For the first time ever, I didn’t have to imagine. I didn’t have to close my eyes and wish I was with a man, even though I’d despised myself for doing it. It wasn’t just Angelo’s gender that had me shedding the bonds, the legacy that my godfather had saddled me with. I’d loathed everything about myself for so long, but now I had hope. I had Angelo. He’d made me realize I might just be worth loving and that the state of denial I’d been living in was nowhere for me to be in the future. In the now. Kissing him and touching him shone light in all the dark corners, lighting up my world, and I’d be damned if I would close myself in that closet again.

  His masculinity turned me inside out in the best way possible. I needed him closer. I needed to touch and taste every inch of his body. As if they had a mind of their own, my hands ran down his back and I gripped his ass. It was the perfect handful, thicker than that of any ladies I’d been with before. Angles and spice rather than curves and softness: it was an unfair contrast to make, a no-brainer for a man like me. A gay man. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever get used to calling myself that out loud. But I couldn’t deny the obvious. I gasped as Angelo nibbled along my jaw from his position, straddling my hips. God, I was so damn hard. Without my blue pills.

  I moaned as he rocked against me and I felt his steely length press alongside mine. I shamelessly did it louder when he rocked again, grinding against me. “Fuck,” I groaned when he bit down on my lobe and my dick pulsed. “So sexy,” I gasped as I slid my hands under the elastic waistline of his lounge pants, pushing them down so they framed his ass. He wasn’t wearing underwear. Fuck me. He’s not wearing underwear.

  I pulled him tighter against me and kissed down his chest, licking the flat disk of his nipple as I kneaded his ass, moving closer to his hole with every squeeze. I bit down gently on his pec, and the move made him shudder. Feeling that vibration against my lips, against my body had me primed to implode. I licked him, sucked on his skin, touched every inch of him I could reach. I was insatiable. I was finally loving on him.

  The saltiness from the sheen of sweat that’d broken out over Angelo’s skin didn’t mask his taste. Having his hard cock pressed against my chest as I lazily dragged my tongue over his chest had me wanting more. Had me wanting to taste him in every place. I tugged down the front of his pants, letting his cock bounce back against his flat stomach. I looked down at him and took my fill, watching as a drop of clear liquid welled at his tip. I hummed low in my throat and leaned forward to lick it away, his taste bursting onto my tongue. I slid my fingers along his crease and reached his hole as I licked again, and Angelo choked out a cry. Pride welled in me, knowing I could affect him like this, and I never wanted to stop.

  “Trent,” he moaned, and it spurred me on. I buried my face into the coarse hairs at the base of his cock and breathed him in, savoring the moment. I licked his sac and watched as his heavy balls tightened against his body. Palming them, I moved to his shaft and licked my way up it. He was long and uncut, his foreskin already pulled back to reveal his corona. I closed my mouth over his glans and tongued the slit, closing my eyes and letting the rapture wash over me. I ran my finger over his tight pucker and pushed gently against it. I wasn’t seeking entry, but I was softening him. When he bore down on my digit and his ring swallowed just the tip of my finger, I moaned. It set off a chain reaction, Angelo crying out again and punching his hips forward until I had half his cock in my mouth.

  He was hot and tight. Hard. And I was in nirvana. Being with Angelo meant everything. I couldn’t deny I was raring to go. My own orgasm was creeping up on me just from touching and tasting him, but I wanted it to last all night. I wanted to wring orgasm after orgasm from the man in my arms, the one threading his fingers through my hair and tugging on the short strands in desperation. Writhing and lost to his own pleasure. I needed to make it better for him. I pulled back, letting my lips and tongue trace the veins along his shaft until his tip popped free of my mouth.

  “Oh fuck,” he breathed. “I’ve never… fuck.”

  “Good fuck, or bad fuck?” I asked with a smile, looking up at him. The moment our eyes connected, the flame burning between us ignited into a wildfire. Angelo kicked off his pants and lowered himself back onto my lap, slamming his mouth against mine. His tongue dueled with mine as he rocked on me. I massaged his hole every time he tried to push onto my finger, but I wouldn’t enter him without lube. I couldn’t hurt him like that. Angelo was fumbling between us, tugging at the towel I’d wrapped around me. I wanted to help, but I couldn’t let go of him. Couldn’t pry my hands away from him. I knew it was free when cool air wafted over my erection, but it was immediately replaced by Angelo’s hot, hard cock against mine. He ground down and I gasped, sensation shooting through every one of my
nerve endings.

  “Trent,” Angelo whispered. “I need... Oh, God.” His needy moan when he wrapped his hand around our shafts had the words getting caught in my throat. I couldn’t get anything coherent out. My brain had short-circuited and white noise filled my mind as pleasure zinged over me.

  I fumbled in my nightstand, trying to find the bottle of lube and condoms. I’d bought the rubbers so long ago I wasn’t even sure if they were usable, but I’d soon find out. I wrapped my hand around the cool cylinder, and without breaking eye contact with Angelo, flipped open the lid and squeezed it onto my fingertips. Circling Angelo’s pucker again, I shuddered as he pressed back against my digits, trying to ride me. “Go slow, Angelo,” I begged, not wanting him to hurt himself.

  “I can’t,” he cried, then stilled. “Oh fuck.” His eyes wide, he tried to lift off me but I held his hips tight, shaking my head when he tried to move again.

  “What’re you doing?” I asked. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sorry,” he breathed out. “I totally lost it. You touched me and I lost my mind. You asked me to go slow and here I am… not going slow.”

  “Do I look like I don’t want this, Angelo?” I asked, softly, relaxing my grip on him. Relief coursed through me—he wasn’t pulling away because of him. He was doing it to protect me. A warmth bloomed in my chest in the wake of the relief. “I want this. I’m ready.” I brushed my lips against his, a barely there touch just like our first kiss.

  “You are?” Angelo rested his forehead against mine and the tension left his body, his eyes closing on a relieved sigh. Blinking them open again, he looked at me tenderly, touching the backs of his fingers to my cheek. The tingles from that simple touch were transcendental. “I need to hear you say it, Trent. Tell me what you’re ready for. Please.”

  “Everything, Angelo.” I brushed my thumbs over his sides, and he shivered. My heart flip-flopped in my chest, and butterflies flew up a storm. Nervous energy assailed me at saying the words. At finally admitting what I wanted. I knew with every fiber of my being if I said I wanted to stop, Angelo would, but that made me want him more. His honesty, his integrity, his gentleness. So, I took a deep breath in and looked him in the eye, ready to make the next move. To take the next step in coming out. My voice was steady when I said, “I want to make love to you. I want to be inside you. I want to watch you as you fall apart in my arms. I want to do the same.”