Out of the Shade

by S. A. McAuley

  “Call him,” her voice carried down to him, a sad plea. “We should both start the New Year fresh.”

  Jesse didn’t respond.

  After a moment he could hear her moving again, then the guest bedroom door shut.

  He stripped next to the laundry room to throw his clothes in the wash, then thought better of it and took the bundle of clothes and tossed them into the trashcan outside the back door. Those were memories he didn’t need to keep. He grabbed clean clothes out of the dryer—a faded college t-shirt and his running pants—then strode into the kitchen, searching for something to clean or do to occupy his brain and his hands.

  The kitchen was pristine. As was the living room. His fridge was stocked too. All courtesy of the Kensington wives. He was alone with his thoughts and that was a fucking minefield of epic proportions at this point.

  He picked up his phone with shaking hands, but dialed Chuck’s number anyway, waiting through the torturous six rings only to hear Chuck’s voicemail greeting on the other end of the line.

  Hey, you’ve got me. Now what are you going to do?

  Good fucking question.

  “Chuck, it’s Jesse. I’m home now. For good, I hope…. You know what? Just call me.”

  As soon as he clicked off the call he thought better and sent a text. Better than calling? Stop by. I’ll leave the door open for you.

  Then he typed out a second message. Please let me say I’m sorry. No expectations.

  Jesse left the door unlocked, sat down on the couch, and turned on the TV. He didn’t know if Chuck had gotten the message, if he was even still in town or if he was in New York, in a club or in Times Square, waiting for the ball to drop.

  Thirty minutes later there was a soft knock at the door.

  Jesse stared dumbfounded. He’d thought there was no chance in hell of Chuck showing up.

  He opened the door wide and stood off to the side, making it clear Chuck was welcome to come inside, but Chuck widened his stance, rooting his feet to the landing. Chuck was wearing a well-worn hoodie that was half-zipped, a t-shirt underneath that had the Bay’s logo on it, and his baseball hat, with the brim shading his eyes, but Jesse could tell they were rimmed in red.

  Jesse sucked in a breath to steady himself. “I really didn’t think you’d come.”

  “I’m surprised I’m here too.”

  “Emily’s here. Sleeping upstairs.”

  “She okay?”

  He scrubbed at his face. “No. Far from it.”

  Chuck stuffed his hands in his pockets as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine,” he dismissed. “Come in and sit down. You’re making me nervous.”

  “I’ll stay out here for now.”

  Jesse balled his fists, trying to rein in the anger at himself for putting the two of them into this untenable situation. For fucking up the one chance at happiness he’d had in years. “I’m sorry, okay? When I woke up I remembered enough to know that I went into Godzilla mode at the party and I’m sorry you had to see me that way.”

  “And?” Chuck pressed.

  “And what? Isn’t that what you wanted to hear?”

  “Jesus Christ.” Chuck clenched his jaws. “What about what happened with Rachel, Jesse?”

  “She didn’t come home with me.”

  Chuck glared at Jesse. “That’s really supposed to make me feel better?”

  “Maybe I’m not gay. Maybe I am bi.”

  “Congratulations,” Chuck said with an angry, sarcastic bite. “I don’t fucking care what you call yourself. What I give a shit about is commitment—person to person, regardless of gender. I’m not looking for a threesome or a permanent ménage. I want a boyfriend and potentially a husband. Definitely a partner. And if that’s not what you’re interested in then there’s no future in…whatever this was.”

  Jesse flinched. “‘Was?’”

  “Yeah, Jesse. Was.” Chuck flipped his baseball hat around and looked away, his jaw grinding. “Jesus Christ. Exclusive. What a fucking joke. And to think I believed you.”

  “I was serious.”

  Chuck’s gaze snapped to him again. “Actions, Jesse. Whether you’re drunk or not, your actions count way more than words. As fucked up as our relationship was, even Adalric didn’t fuck around on me.”

  “I didn’t sleep with her!”

  “And that matters how? Wow. We really have different concepts of what exclusive means.”

  “I didn’t want anything to happen with her, I was thinking about you, and—”

  “Thinking about me?”

  Jesse cringed. “I don’t know what else to do besides say that I’m sorry.”

  “For what exactly, though? You don’t get to apologize solely for the mistakes you’re comfortable admitting to.”

  Jesse gripped the doorframe, his torn-up knuckles protesting the movement. He hadn’t really slept in days, he didn’t have a drink in his hand to lose himself in, he was scared about his trial, terrified for Emily, and….

  Jesse’s shoulders sagged. Chuck was right. All of those were valid reasons for him to be head-fucked, but none of them excused him from owning up to all of his mistakes. Years’ worth of mistakes, not just in the last few weeks. More mistakes than he could count at this point.

  Before he knew it, his chest was heaving as he tried to breathe. But each time he fought for a breath, it was like his lungs refused to draw in any air. His vision swam and he stumbled away from the door and onto his couch, putting his head in his hands.

  “Shit,” Jesse heard Chuck say, then the sound of the door clicking shut.

  Jesse sucked in gasping breaths and rocked. Chuck had walked away from him again, and this was all Jesse would ever do—wound and drive away the people who he loved the most.

  A warm hand settled on his knee and a choked sob ripped out of Jesse’s throat. He clamped his eyes tighter, shame flooding through him.

  “Breathe, Jesse.”

  Jesse cringed but felt his racing heart slowing and breaths coming easier with Chuck’s voice and reassuring touch.

  “What happened that night? To Emily?”

  That night wasn’t why he’d called Chuck. It had nothing to do with what had happened between them and he didn’t want to relive it. Jesse shook his head.

  “Tell me, Jesse.”

  “Why?” he croaked out.

  “Because I can’t reconcile it. The Jesse that beat a man nearly to death with his fists is not the man I know. Don’t get me wrong, if I had a sister, the thought would’ve crossed my mind too. But what Kam told me…. You’re a huge guy, Jesse, but you have an awareness of that power and how much stronger you are than everyone else. You know you have the strength to hurt, and yet you keep that in check because you care too much about the people around you. Or I thought you did. I’m beginning to wonder how well I knew you at all. And, fuck…if that soft side you showed me is bullshit.”

  Jesse swiped at his eyes and looked up. “You mean if what we had was bullshit?”

  A pained expression cut across Chuck’s features, and his throat bobbed with a thick swallow as he nodded.

  “Us? That was all real. Probably the most real I’ve been in my life. And how easily the thought of killing Ian to protect Emily came to me? That…. That was real too.”

  Chuck pulled his hand away, sitting up. “That scares the shit out of me.”

  Jesse swallowed roughly. “Me too.”

  A silence fell between them, the weight of that confession crowding all other considerations about them away. Jesse wilted into the couch and watched as Chuck removed his cap, ran his fingers through his hair, then set it back on his head again. He was fidgeting. Incapable of meeting Jesse’s eyes.

  “I can tell there’s more you want to ask….”

  The muscle of Chuck’s jaw flexed and he looked to Jesse again. “Kam told me that wasn’t the first time Ian had come after Emily.”

  “And not the worst, either.”


  Chuck swore under his breath. “He also told me that there’s more history there than I know. History that puts all of this in a different context. But he wouldn’t tell me what it was.”

  “Not all of it is my story to tell either. But from my side of it….” Jesse took in a shaky breath. “I remember being a kid and talking to Emily, on the one-off weekends where she would come stay with us, and understanding that there was this…darkness in the world I was powerless to help her against….”

  Jesse ground his teeth together. Maybe he’d internalized her anger too much—or felt her sorrow and hopelessness too deeply. Maybe he should’ve told their mother everything that was happening to Emily. Maybe things would’ve been different.

  He’d been a child then, but that did little to assuage his guilt.

  “My mom tried too, as much as she could with the little she knew. But the courts kept Emily with her dad no matter how much my mom fought for custody because Emily said she wanted to stay with him. He had convinced her that she would be in trouble if she told the truth.”

  “Jesse—”

  Jesse held up his hand to stop Chuck. “Then Emily turned eighteen and moved out, but her father wouldn’t leave her alone. She went to the cops, and he offed himself when they showed up at his door. And that darkness…. It swallowed her up in his death. I think because she felt responsible—like she had his blood on her hands.”

  Chuck clasped his arms around his chest and he hung his head. “You both need help, Jesse. Her for her father’s and Ian’s abuse, and you for trying to be her support when you’re crumbling yourself. Do both of you a favor and make some calls tomorrow. This is serious shit. Life or death. You can’t take it on yourself.”

  Jesse’s chest tightened painfully. “I need your help more, Chuck.”

  Chuck grimaced. “That’s not fair.”

  “No, it’s not,” Jesse acknowledged. “I know it’s not. I don’t deserve your help.”

  “Fuck. That is not what I meant.” Chuck met Jesse’s eyes. “You’re a good person, and you deserve to get better. You already have your parents and a loyal group of friends who will bend over backward to do what’s needed. Rely on them. They want to help you and Emily. I’m just saying…. I’m just saying it can’t be me.”

  …it can’t be me.

  That was what Jesse had needed to hear—had expected to hear—but it didn’t make it any easier.

  He ran his fingertips over the scabs on his knuckles. “There’s no chance of me fighting this and winning.”

  “There is.”

  “That’s just what you wish.”

  “No, Jesse. I know because I’ve been there. On the other side of the glass. Just like you.”

  Jesse’s head snapped up. “What?”

  “When my dad found out I was gay he came after my boyfriend and I defended him. But I was bigger than my dad, stronger, and he came out of it much worse off than I did. My mom took his side, they pressed charges, and I spent a month in jail.”

  Jesse’s heart sped. “So why would you think that I—”

  “Because it doesn’t have to be like that for you,” Chuck cut in. “I didn’t have anyone to stand up for me. You have your parents, your sister, and every Kensington boy and wife standing behind you.”

  “But not you.”

  It wasn’t a question, yet Chuck’s lips pursed and his brows stitched together, as if he was considering his response carefully. “Lila called to check in on me and told me that she knew about us. Kam does too, but do any of the other boys? Your parents?”

  He hadn’t told anyone else about Chuck. He hadn’t found the strength to in the midst of the chaos. He didn’t want to add to the chaos. But even he knew that was a poor excuse.

  After the shit he’d been through in the last week, the boys might have considered his sexuality the least of their issues with Jesse, but Jesse couldn’t risk losing them. Not now. He was barely holding on as it was. The fear of them turning their backs on him was too great.

  If he was going to survive this, he needed all of the Kensington boys. Because he didn’t know if he believed in himself enough anymore.

  Jesse looked at Chuck and his stomach dropped as he realized that Chuck was waiting for an answer that would definitively tear them apart.

  “No one else knows.”

  Chuck’s hazel eyes shone with unshed tears. “I was falling in love with you, Jesse.”

  Jesse listed as if the ground beneath him wasn’t solid anymore. Chuck had begun to fall for him just as much as Jesse had fallen for him, and Jesse had thrown that all away. His heart ached, his head pounded, and his knuckles bled from him clenching and unclenching his fists.

  “I fucked up,” he whispered.

  Chuck sneered, a sharp inhale hissing through his teeth. “That’s too tame. You’ve shredded me! Torn me down—” Chuck clamped his lips shut. “It doesn’t matter anyway, does it?” Chuck took off his hat and ran his hand through his hair again. He let out a long sigh and leaned forward. “I wasn’t lying when I told you I would be willing to wait until you were ready to come out, but I wasn’t being completely honest either. Because I thought that meant that someday you would want to. I can’t trust that’s where you’re headed anymore, and I need someone who’s out and willing to be with me, in all meanings of that word. I’m sorry I wasn’t clearer on that.”

  “None of this is you, Chuck. None of it. I am starting treatment. I saw a therapist at the jail and the doctor there started me on some meds. I haven’t had one drink since the night at Kam’s house. I’m struggling, but I’m doing it. For you and for Emily.”

  “You need to do it for yourself, Jesse.”

  “I’m scared that’s not enough of a reason.”

  “Then you’ll never get better. That much I know.”

  Jesse didn’t know if he was ready for so many drastic changes all at once, but it wasn’t as if he had any choice. He’d left too many things hanging for too long, and now all of them were twining together to make a nice, tidy noose. Jesse was going to have to work hard to cut his way free, but his mom had always said there was no time better than the present, and tonight….

  “Tonight is New Year’s,” he said.

  “I know,” Chuck replied in an emotionless voice. “I have plans.”

  Jesse swallowed around a dry throat. “Anyone I know?”

  “It doesn’t matter either way,” Chuck dismissed. “I’m sure someone from Kensington is at McLoughlin’s tonight that you could celebrate with.”

  “I’m not drinking.”

  “Right.” Chuck’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “That resolution will hold up a real long time when the boys are forcing shots down your throat.”

  Jesse’s eyes narrowed. “You have some problem with the boys?”

  Chuck erupted. “This isn’t about them! Wake the fuck up. You’re so wrapped up in your identity as a Kensington boy that you’ve lost sight of who you are as a person. You’re not like them and that is okay. When are you going to realize that and start living your life?”

  “I remember thinking that when Rachel was on me. That I just wanted to be normal—”

  “Fuck. You,” Chuck bit out. “And that sentence is exactly why I’m not staying. I wish you the best in your recovery and with the charges. And I hope Emily is able to make it through this okay. She deserves a good life and so do you. But I can’t do this. Goodbye, Jesse.” Chuck turned to the door then pivoted, shoulders sagging as he said, “Just lose my fucking number, okay?”

  14

  Plans.

  Yeah, Chuck had New Year’s plans. To be achingly depressed and wallowing in sorrow while he watched Anderson Cooper and overloaded on carbs.

  The drive home wasn’t long enough to soothe his jangled nerves. Jesse’s confession about why he’d let Rachel do as she’d wanted hadn’t shocked Chuck as much as he thought it might—because a part of him had known. No matter what had happened between them behind closed doors, Jesse was always fighting it.
Chuck had started giving himself over, piece by piece, but Jesse had cocooned himself in their fake life because he didn’t think he was normal.

  He pulled into his condo complex, parked the truck, and tightened his coat around his shoulders, bracing against the cold. The condo he rented was dark. Empty.

  He threw his keys onto the table as he crossed the threshold and walked in without flipping on any lights. His place was almost as bare as the day he’d moved in—sparsely furnished, no pictures on the walls, reflecting just how little time he’d spent here since meeting Jesse.

  The sound of his phone ringing jolted him. He glanced at the caller ID and accepted the call. “I’m not going out tonight,” he said to Ben without preamble.

  “I wasn’t going to ask you.”

  “Right.” Rejected twice in the span of less than an hour. Wasn’t this gearing up to be a stellar New Year’s Eve? “So you’re just calling to wish me a Happy New Year?”

  “Stop brooding.”

  “I’m not brooding,” Chuck replied in a brood-ish tone.

  “You’re much cuter when you smile, Charlie.”

  “How do you know I’m not smiling?” Chuck answered sarcastically. He opened the freezer door, positioned his phone between his ear and shoulder, and scooped a handful of ice cubes out of the tray.

  “I’ll skip the party I was supposed to attend. Just come out with me.”

  “I think I’m going to hide in the closet tonight. I hear it’s a magical place. Apparently, real life doesn’t intrude.”

  Ben swore under his breath. “Did you see him or talk to him?”

  Chuck dropped the cubes into a highball glass and slid the bottle of vodka out of the freezer. “Both.”

  “And now you’re drinking by yourself. Smart.”

  “I really don’t want to be an asshole here, Ben, but you’re pushing me. Not in the mood isn’t murderous enough in its intent.”

  “Fine.”

  “Go have fun tonight. Meet yourself a beautiful husband.”

  “Call me, Chuck. Okay?”

  “Maybe.”