In Safe Arms (My Truth Book 2)

by Ann Grech

  “I thought we were family here?” Trent asked teasingly as he peeled himself away from me and stood, holding out his hand to help me up.

  “Dude, do I need to spell it out?” With a shake of his head and a smile, Ford added, “I wanna have sex with my boyfriend. You know, like you two were practically doing on our sofa. Fuck off!”

  Mace came out of the spare room pushing a sleeping Gracie in her stroller. “I had to shield her eyes from you two love birds. Mind you, I had to shield Caden’s eyes too, so—”

  “What? They’re hot,” Caden interjected. When Mace nodded, Trent huffed out a laugh and tugged on my hand. He was embarrassed, and I couldn’t help laughing.

  “Guys. My brother,” Ricky protested. “Not hot, Caden. And Mace, don’t enable him. Please.”

  We picked up our things and headed out, Ford and Reef waving to us from the doorway as my brother and his family and Trent and I left. I followed Trent home, ready to get him to finally undress me like I’d wanted him to on that sofa. Ready for me to peel him out of his hot as hell uniform and kiss every inch of that bronze skin.

  15

  Trent

  I’d been living on cloud nine. How did my life get so damn near perfect? Angelo, that’s how. For years I’d fought my pull to him. I’d despised myself and battled against a part of me that, although only one aspect, was as fundamental as the air I breathed. But things had changed in the few weeks since I finally gathered up the courage to admit the truth to Angelo. We’d moved at lightning speed since then, but at the same time, it was at a snail’s pace too. We’d been friends for so long that the slide into a relationship seemed almost effortless. It wasn’t, but I was working on it. I was getting more comfortable with myself, constantly repeating the positive mantras my therapist had armed me with and just going with the flow. Touching him—holding him, kissing him—was addictive. We weren’t just focusing on that though. Talking, opening up about the things we’d never shared, was coming easier too. Angelo understood that I struggled sometimes and he was there. He helped.

  Therapy was helping too, giving me a safe space to process what had happened and how far I’d come. I’d told Dr. Hansard during our last session that I was coming out, and while she was encouraging, she cautioned me to only do it when I was ready. She didn’t want me to come out just to please Angelo. I hadn’t. I’d done it for me. I’d come out to break that last shackle tying me to my godfather’s crime. He had no power over me anymore, and that was more freeing than I could ever have imagined. It also made me feel like I was only tethered to the ground by the slightest thread, ready to float away if it snapped. Or perhaps careen spectacularly out of control and crash land if I hit a patch of turbulence. That scared me—the knowledge that coming out could just as easily make me crash and burn as it could make me soar. I had no idea how people would react to me. No idea whether their response would be great, good, or downright violent. And it scared me, but not enough to go back in that closet.

  The night I came out I’d needed Angelo. I’d needed his kiss to give me the courage to walk back inside with my head held high and holding his hand. I didn’t want to make a big announcement, but when Reef saw us, coming out was no longer something I was hypothetically contemplating and working up the courage to do. It was on top of me and I couldn’t get away without everybody making a big deal out of it. I hadn’t expected they’d be so great though. I also hadn’t expected to tell Ford any part of my story, but he deserved it and so did I. Saying the words “I was raped” was as empowering as it was hard. I knew it would be difficult, but the war of conflicting emotions afterward was like a whirlwind. It’d taken me hours to let go of the man who’d become my rock. His touch was comforting and it gave me strength. We lay there on the sofa, cocooned in each other’s arms, and I found myself never wanting to let go. So I didn’t. I never will.

  Three weeks had passed since that night, and I was in another therapy session. Sitting in Dr. Hansard’s beige and black office on the sofa near the window, I exhaled slowly. I’d just finished recounting my story to her, and her reassuring words and genuine smile told me she was pleased. I could literally check off the ways I’d followed her advice, and it felt damn good too. I’d used the tools she’d given me. I’d reached out for support when I needed it, and Angelo had been there for me without question. I’d only told my friends as much as I was comfortable sharing. I’d confronted my fears and was slowly working through each one. I was strong. Stronger than I’d ever felt before. And I was loved. It wasn’t just Angelo either, even though the man owned me body and soul. No, it was my friends who stood by me and supported me. It was me too. I could finally live my life as me. I could finally be free. I recognized myself in the mirror when I looked now. I didn’t look any different, but at the same time I did. I saw the happiness that radiated off me. The confidence, and not the cocky bro’d up front I’d used as a shield for over a decade, but an inner strength. An inner calm. An acknowledgment of my true self. It’d taken the years of self-loathing to fall away, but in the rubble that was left, I could see that I was worthy of love, especially my own. I was finally beginning to do exactly that.

  “So your letter to your parents was the catalyst for you and Angelo admitting your feelings toward each other?” Dr. Hansard’s words were framed as a question, but it wasn’t one. “And you’ve come out to your friends and his family here in NZ too.”

  “Yep,” I replied, nodding. “And his parents and sister in Italy. I know them too.” I knew what her next question would be and she didn’t disappoint.

  “How do you feel about that?”

  I wanted to blurt out that I was fine, but she wouldn’t let me get away with it. The more I thought about it though, the more I realized I was okay. I smiled and remembered saying the words. It was as if a weight had been lifted off me when I saw Angelo’s mom clasp her hands together and burst into tears with the biggest smile on her face. With all their support, I was better than okay. I was becoming me again. “I’m good.” I nodded and smiled. “Yeah, I’m good. Angelo made it easier, but as much as I did it for him, I did it for me too, and that feels pretty amazing.”

  She smiled. “I’m glad. We’ve spoken about your coming out as a process, not a destination. It’s not something you’ll do once. You’ll do it with each new group of people you meet, with your other friends and work colleagues. And one day, if you’re ever ready, with your parents. But in the meantime, your life is there to enjoy. Your relationship, becoming this new you. You’ve come a long way, Trent, and you still have a long journey in front of you, but a key to that is you being happy. Not just in your relationship with Angelo, but in yourself.”

  “I get it now. I do. And I’m getting there. I like myself now. I’m proud of me, you know?” I hesitated, then asked the question that had been niggling at the back of my mind ever since Angelo read the letter to my parents. “Do you think I’ll ever be ready to get back in contact with them? My parents,” I clarified.

  “That’s something only you can answer, Trent. Have you been thinking about trying to rebuild your relationship?”

  “Yeah, I have. Angelo said something that’s made me rethink every reason I’ve used not to contact them again.” I paused, expecting Dr. Hansard to ask another question, but when she didn’t, I continued. “I made the split-second decision to run away when I was a kid. I’ve always thought that Mom and Dad wouldn’t want to see me again because so much time had passed. That they’d probably gotten over me.” I ran my fingers through my hair, giving myself a moment for the constriction in my chest to wane so I could breathe once more. “They posted a message about me on Facebook. They think I’m dead.” My voice wobbled and I swallowed past the lump now in my throat. My eyes stung, tears threatening to escape. “They said they still think about me every day and wished they could see me again. Angelo said something similar. I suppose it got me thinking about reaching out to them. What if I did and they said yes? I might be able to get them back.”


  “I don’t want you to rush into anything, Trent. There’s no set time limit that you have to tackle these things in. You’ve come a long way in a short time. It’s important that you’re ready before you take that step. Regardless of whether they say yes or no to seeing you, or speaking to you again, it will be highly emotional. You need to be properly equipped to handle that—” She held her hand up, cutting me off as I started to speak. “I’m not discouraging you, but I’m not encouraging you until I feel like you’re emotionally stable enough and have the coping mechanisms to be able to deal with that kind of upheaval.”

  “Okay.” I nodded, taking in what she said. It made sense, and I knew I wasn’t ready to reach out to them yet, but I also knew that now I’d begun to think about it, I wouldn’t be able to let it go. “What can I do until I am ready?”

  “Why don’t you try updating the letter you wrote? Go over what we spoke about including in it and I’ll give you a list of extra things for you to think about adding in.”

  “Would I have to see my godfather again?”

  “No.” She shook her head. “We’ll make sure he’s not with them. If he is, I’d recommend rescheduling so he isn’t there. I think with your current state of progress, it would be counterproductive to involve him.” She put the pen down she’d been twirling between her fingers and added, “I’d like you to think about who you’d like there as your support person too. Someone who you feel comfortable with.”

  I didn’t even need to think about who I’d want with me. There was only one person: Angelo. But it was more than just asking him to come out for coffee with me as a friend, and even though I couldn’t imagine anyone else being there, I didn’t want to push the limits of our fledgling relationship too far. “Yeah, okay.” I nodded slowly. “It’s a lot to think about. So much more than just picking up the phone.”

  “I’d discourage you from doing that. Let’s do this properly, Trent. We’ll make sure you’re ready, and I’ll give you whatever support you need to get you there.”

  We said our goodbyes, and I mulled the idea over while I was walking to my car. I messaged Angelo, asking if he wanted takeout for dinner rather than cooking. We’d both had a busy week and I couldn’t be bothered cleaning up the mess that went with Angelo’s masterpieces or my basic survival meals. His message came back quickly.

  Angelo: Can I take you out tonight? There’s a new bar I want to check out

  I smiled. It’d been forever since we’d gone out, and never before as partners. I knew I was dropping the ball in the dating department, but with everything else that’d been happening, I’d wanted Angelo to myself. But no more. I wanted us to be open. Proud of who we were. I replied and headed to the address he sent me to. It was a traditional storefront from the outside. A basic red brick building with nearly full-length timber windows on either side of the entryway. It was a bank when originally built, and the neon sign over the entry, declaring it to be The Vault, paid homage to that history. Under it, the heavy timber doors opened into a deep room. Along one side, running the full length of the open space, was a bar lit from below with colored lights. Timber floors, black walls, and mood lighting gave the place a modern look, and the gilded mirrors and disco ball sent shards of light sparkling over the empty dance floor and narrow staircase. At the top of those stairs was a round bank vault door that was easily seven feet high. The bar’s namesake, I guessed.

  There was a small after-work crowd and a few springtime tourists dressed in much more casual gear than the business people spread out among the tables. The stools at the end of the bar I was standing closest to caught my eye, so I made my way over to them and sat down, ordering a soda when the bartender with bright purple streaks in her hair made her way over to me. I looked around, watching the crowd, but found my gaze drifting to the doors nearby.

  I saw him the moment he stepped through, and it only took a moment for our eyes to connect. He looked sexy as fuck as he walked toward me, never breaking eye contact. He could have been stalking me, but the tilt of his smile left me in no doubt that when he caught me, I’d love every second of it. Dressed in navy blue, pinstripe pants, and a matching vest, he was dashing. The crisp white shirt he wore gave him a refined, straitlaced business appearance, but the fuchsia bowtie and matching socks I knew he was wearing gave away his playful side, the same one that made his art so unique.

  He sidled up to me and stood close. Probably too close for a friend, but I found myself wanting more. My heart raced, my palms sweating as the temptation to touch him rose like a tide within me. I sucked in a sharp breath when he lowered his head to mine and murmured in my ear, “Hi.” I let that one word wash over me and shivered, desire pulsing low in me. Fear mingled in there too though. I wanted to reach out and touch him, but could I do it? How would the biker-looking dude with the younger kid sitting next to him on the table nearby react? I could defend us. I did it more than I would acknowledge for Angelo’s sake when we were on call outs, but I’d never exposed that part of myself except to a limited few. Did I have the courage to reach out to Angelo? To touch him? To kiss him like I so desperately needed in that moment?

  I swallowed around the lump in my throat and rasped out a, “Hi,” too. He leaned in more, no doubt invading my personal space, and I stiffened, cursing myself when Angelo paused.

  “Do you like it here?” he asked lowly, his melodic voice and that sexy accent chipping away at my discomfort. All he had to do was keep talking and I’d be putty in his hands. I nodded, unable to say anything, and he smiled. “But you haven’t figured it out yet have you?”

  The question had me confused, and I looked at him, my eyebrows knitted. “Figured what out?”

  “What color was the sign over the door?”

  “I didn’t take much notice. It was a few different colors. Red, yellow, green, blue. That’s it, I think.”

  “Close. Look at the colors under the bar.” I watched them for a moment. Green morphed into blue then into purple before taking on a red tinge. From orange to yellow then back to green.

  “Red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple on a loop.”

  “Mmm,” he agreed. “The sign too.”

  Then it hit me. They were the colors of the rainbow. I looked around again, taking in the people sitting scattered throughout the bar. The biker-looking dude had a skinny blond next to him. Short spiky hair, and wearing a pale blue tee that fitted him like a glove. It showed off every part of his delicate frame. They were sitting closer now, the kid’s arm hooked into the bigger man’s one. There were two women further away. I had assumed they were friends, but I realized they were more than that when I saw their hands interlinked. “This is a gay bar.”

  “It is. You okay with us being here?”

  I didn’t even have to think about my answer. The hesitation, the angst I’d been stuck in slipped away, leaving behind a confidence I’d rarely experienced together with an overwhelming feeling of love. Angelo had picked somewhere he knew we’d be accepted. Where we’d fit in and no one would criticize us or belittle our sexuality. Where we could be free to exist. To love. “I am.” I smiled and looked him up and down slowly, wanting to take advantage of being somewhere I instinctively felt safe. I ate up every inch of his lithe frame, and the moan I let out sounded like a purr. “You look… edible.”

  “You do too.” I looked down at my jeans and collared shirt and shrugged. My leather jacket was slung over the back of the barstool, but that didn’t exactly add flair to my outfit like Angelo managed to pull off whenever he was dressed up.

  I turned on the stool and willed myself to have the courage to touch him like I wanted to. Nearly two decades of hiding—if you counted the couple of years before I worked up the courage to come out that first time—was hard to kick. But I wanted this for us. I wanted it for me. I reached out for Angelo and tugged him between my legs, resting my hands on his hips. He startled, his eyes going wide for a moment before a look of pure adoration washed over his face. I loved that look. Loved when he
directed it my way. I’d never get enough of seeing it. Angelo brought his hand up and cupped my face, running his fingertips over my jaw. It was an innocent touch, but so intimate that I felt exposed. Raw. Strong. I kissed his palm and he gifted me with that smile I adored before leaning down and asking in a murmur, “Can I kiss you?”

  My body reacted like a livewire when he ran his nose down my ear, and I shivered. I felt rather than saw his smile against my cheek as I moaned, “Yes.”

  Angelo hummed in the back of his throat and brushed his lips over mine in a whisper-soft kiss. I sighed, wishing we were somewhere private enough that I could deepen the kiss, and at the same time loving that we were in the company of strangers.

  “Can I get you boys a drink?” the bartender asked us, interrupting our moment.

  “Two whiskeys with dry and a wedge of lime please,” Angelo answered and motioned to a row of low tables. “You wanna sit over there and eat?”

  “Sounds great.” We ordered wings, fries, and sliders for dinner, paid for our drinks, and sat around a table in a quiet corner. Sitting next to each other, we held hands under the table, and Angelo caught me up on the meetings he’d had that afternoon. He knew better than to ask me how my therapy session went. I usually told him, but not for hours after. Not until I wasn’t so overwhelmed with the memories we’d dredged up. But the session that day was different. It was a great one, and I couldn’t wait to tell him about it.

  Our dinner arrived and we ate, sharing the food as I recapped my appointment. Finally, I added, “I’ve been thinking about reaching out to Mom and Dad. I don’t think I’m ready yet, but will you come with me if you can?”

  Angelo put down the wing he was eating and wiped his hands, giving me his full attention. “Of course. Anytime you want, I’ll be there.”