Leaning Into Touch (Leaning Into Series Book 4)

by Lane Hayes

  I lost the train of conversation when his fiscal feasibility report became technical. It was just as well. I felt myself slip into self-preservation lock-down mode. The defense mechanisms responsible for battening the hatches and readying body and soul for a storm were being called into action. Suddenly, I understood my mother’s baking compulsion. It may have been obsessive, but I’d bet the constant motion kept fear at bay. Like a small boat on the ocean with just enough engine power to out-maneuver a shark. At least until the fuel was gone.

  He was leaving.

  He hadn’t said it in plain English yet, but I could read in between the lines. We weren’t going to make it. There was a good-bye in our future with a painful “we knew this might happen” speech. I felt it deep inside me along with denial, fear, anxiety, and a host of insecurities I couldn’t name but recognized well.

  And this horrible stabbing pain in my chest had to be my heart literally cracking in two.

  How had I gotten this so wrong? We hadn’t said the words aloud but I was pretty sure this was love. It was for me. I loved him. I didn’t want to. I knew he was dangerous. Not because he was smart and sexy and fucked like a dream. That may have caught my attention, but his vulnerable side was my undoing. I wanted to fix him and make things right for him. Perhaps that wasn’t the healthiest basis for a relationship, but it was true. I would do anything for him. How could I if he was thousands of miles away?

  I stood abruptly and moved back to the stove then picked up the wooden spoon and stirred the Bolognese sauce. I thought about tasting it but my appetite was long gone so I stirred instead. Round and round. Slow and steady.

  “Josh.”

  “It’s almost ready. I’ll boil the water for pasta and—”

  “Josh, look at me. Did you hear anything I said?”

  I let out an exaggerated rush of air then set the spoon aside and turned to find him next to me with his arms crossed and brow furrowed.

  “You said you’re moving to Chicago,” I said in a breezy tone. “Want more wine?”

  “Come with me,” he said in a rush, looking almost as taken aback by his outburst as I was.

  I opened my mouth and closed it twice. “You want me to move to Chicago with you?”

  “Yes. I looked at a condo with a beautiful view of Lake Michigan. It was brand new with great amenities and—”

  “Chicago? I…I’m supposed to start a new job and I was thinking about going to grad school,” I responded in a daze.

  “You can find work there and apply to schools too if you’re interested.”

  “I guess, but…I can’t just leave my parents or my friends and—geez, Finn. What about Scarlet and the baby?”

  “I’ll visit them and they’ll visit me. Chicago is brilliant. You’d love it. I know you would.” He reached out to brush my wild hair out of my eyes. “Are you interested?”

  “I don’t know what to say. I’m…surprised.”

  Finn nodded and gave me a lopsided smile that didn’t go well with the tortured look in his eyes. And that’s when I knew this wasn’t what he’d intended. He didn’t want to say good-bye, but that didn’t mean he wanted me along for the ride. He was pushing us back into the in-between place. What had he called it months ago? The land of doubt. I couldn’t survive there. I’d tried once but it hadn’t ended well.

  “Think about it. You don’t have to decide tonight.”

  “When are you leaving?”

  “I wouldn’t call it ‘leaving.’ It’s a temporary relocation.”

  Relocation. The word choice struck me somehow. Geographical shift. Hadn’t he done that before?

  “Why do you want me to go with you?” I asked in a small voice.

  He huffed in amusement. “Because I think you’d like it. I told you that.”

  “But why? Is this about friendship? Loneliness? Or do you want a steady source of regular sex at your beck and call?”

  “Hey!” he barked sternly.

  My traitorous cock twitched against my zipper, begging me not to do anything stupid. “Or are you counting on me saying no so you can tell yourself you tried?”

  “I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t want you to—I don’t get it. I thought you’d want this.” He looked genuinely flustered. I wasn’t sure if that was insulting or endearing. Either way, it snapped me out of my spiral into despair.

  “Really? Because uprooting your life is what all the cool kids do these days? Be honest.”

  “I don’t know what you want me to say. You’re important to me, Josh,” he said, managing to look as uncomfortable and overwhelmed and I was…shattered. Inside and out.

  “Right.” My vision was hazy as I turned off the burners on the stove. I swiped at my eyes clandestinely before checking to make sure I had my keys. I had to get out of there before I lost it.

  Finn grabbed my arm as I rounded the island. “Whoa. Where are you going? Talk to me.”

  His careful intonation pissed me off. I wasn’t sure it was possible to calmly explain my feelings to someone who wasn’t ready to reciprocate them. He liked me. A lot. I was important. That was nice. But it wasn’t enough. In fact, it kinda sucked.

  I clung to anger when I pulled out of his grasp.

  “You want to talk? Okay. Let’s talk. I think moving to Chicago is a lame-ass excuse to escape reality. And I think it sucks.”

  “My job is my reality, Josh.”

  “It’s only part of it. What about the rest of your life? Your friends? The baby you have on the way?” I held my tongue before I screamed, “What about me?”

  “My friends will understand and the child has two mums. I won’t be needed here.”

  “Bullshit. You’re punishing yourself.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “You’re afraid. I get it. I bet this is scary shit. Your beard is forcing you out of hiding and you’re running out of options. If you stay, you’ll either continue your role as fake boyfriend-slash-baby daddy or you’ll be left exposed as the guy your girlfriend dumped for a woman after you knocked her up. Am I right? You don’t want this to touch you. It’s too personal. And you’ve been here before, stuck between living a real life and keeping up appearances. The crazy thing is…you want a second chance, but you won’t allow yourself to have it. After all this time, you still haven’t forgiven yourself.

  “Maybe it’s Catholic guilt, maybe it’s your father’s bullshit rhetoric from your youth. I don’t know. And I don’t know where I fit in any of it. But it’s time for me to grow up, Finn. I’m not Peter Pan. I can’t flit from job to job, rent from my friends for the rest of my life, or wait for others to make decisions before I make any of my own. If you have to go, I’ll wish you well and I’ll do my best to understand. Right now, I hate it and I have to leave before I do something stupid like beg you to stay.”

  I hurried into the foyer, vaguely remembering I had clothes and other sundry items here. There was no way I was going upstairs to literally pull my shit together. I refused to cry now.

  Finn moved behind me and set his hand on the door. “Stop! You’re overreacting, Josh. This is a short-term move. Nothing more.”

  “Is that what you told yourself when you left Ireland?”

  “That was different. Chicago isn’t personal. It’s work.”

  “I don’t think that’s all it is. It’s life. You’re running away again. And I can’t help thinking you’ve been preparing to do this for a while.”

  “I asked you to come with me,” Finn reminded me in a clipped tone. “I understand it’s a big decision. You have a lot here, including a new opportunity with Dante and—”

  “Dante? What does he have to do with anything?” I stopped and narrowed my gaze at him suspiciously. “Wait. How long have you been planning this move?”

  He didn’t answer right away. He studied me intently then let out a ragged sigh and looked away. “A few weeks.”

  My breath hitched audibly. I felt like I’d been slapped.

  “I have to go.”
>
  “No, don’t. Don’t go.”

  The pain in his voice was my undoing. I cracked. The hairline fracture in my heart shifted and a well of emotion bubbled to the surface, so strong it nearly brought me to my knees. When I turned to face him, Finn cradled my face and rubbed the tears from my cheeks. He kissed my forehead tenderly and then my nose. I sniffled as I leaned into him.

  “We don’t have to make any decisions tonight. Come have dinner. Leave this for now,” he coaxed sweetly. I shook my head and forced myself to move to the door. “I’m not saying good-bye to you.”

  “I don’t want to say good-bye another time either. I—”

  “No. No good-byes. We can make this work.”

  I glanced up with my hand on the doorknob, noting the raw emotion in his eyes.

  “I don’t see how, Finn. I know you care about me, but I’m in a little deeper than that. I don’t feel mild affection for you. This isn’t a crush or infatuation or a temporary fit of madness. It’s real and honest and it hurts like hell. I know what you’re doing. You’re pushing me away. You’re managing these loose strings so you can walk away with as little guilt as possible.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  I ignored his pained expression. If this was all I had, I wasn’t leaving anything unsaid. “My friends warned me about you. They said you were ruthless and carelessly cold. But, that’s not true. It’s just a cover for the real you, the man who’d give anything to make the people he loves happy. The thing is… I don’t need you to buy me stuff or get me a job. I don’t care about the things you own or the places you’ve been. All I want is you. I don’t want a piece of you. I want all of you. I love you.”

  He clenched his jaw as though willing himself to keep it together. He didn’t speak, but maybe he couldn’t or was afraid of making promises that might haunt him, the way he had over a decade ago. I pursed my lips and then bit them to stave off the flow of ugly emotion building inside.

  “Josh, I…”

  “No.” I swiped at the tear rolling down my cheek and shook my head. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say the words back. I don’t expect it. I’ll always love you, Finn but I think…I think this really is good-bye.”

  I inclined my head and stepped outside, unable to speak. But really, there was nothing more to say. I couldn’t make him stay, and I couldn’t make him love me.

  So I had to let go.

  13

  My optimistic nature had served me well in life. Sure, I got sad or disheartened by bad news but I was usually able to find a bright spot. I didn’t think it was a matter of being good-natured. It was more about coping with unpleasant bullshit. There was a name for guys like me. I preferred the term “non-confrontational pleaser” but truthfully, I was a classic enabler. I valued harmony in my life. So much so that I made excuses for others and took responsibility for fixing their fuck ups to restore peace.

  Maybe I’d noticed my mother’s passive aggressive tendencies when I was a kid and tried to smooth over her occasional bouts of melancholy with humor. My parents’ divorce felt like a personal failure to me, as though my efforts had fallen short. I second-guessed coming out to them, thinking my sexuality was a catalyst. However, they were both supportive, so that didn’t ring true. It just left me confused and in a constant state of fear that my best effort might never really be enough for anyone.

  I wondered what I could have done differently with Finn and if I’d just made the biggest mistake of my life. I’d never felt quite so empty or unhappy or flat out devastated.

  I went home Friday night to a dark apartment. I left a note for Grant that I was sick and contagious, counting on his germo-phobia to give me a reprieve from unwanted questions for a couple of days. Then I turned off my phone and climbed into bed intending to sleep until Monday. But sleep wouldn’t come. I tossed and turned all night, wondering if I’d been too hasty. Maybe he really did want me to go with him. Maybe he hadn’t mentioned moving to Chicago sooner because he was nervous I’d say no. Unfortunately, I had a feeling my instincts were correct. He wanted out.

  When my restless thoughts turned ugly and my bedroom walls began to close in on me, I gave up and walked aimlessly around the Castro Saturday morning. I stopped in three different coffee shops and did my best to lose myself in excess caffeine and people watching. And eventually, I found myself on my father’s doorstep.

  I knocked a couple of times then looked out on his quiet street while I waited for him to answer. The fog had rolled in. It was cool and damp but at least the wind hadn’t picked up. I thought about heading to Eric and Zane’s but I didn’t want to explain my moodiness and I sure as hell didn’t want an “I told you so.” Not that Eric would—

  “Well, isn’t this a pleasant surprise!” Dad wrapped me in a tight embrace before I even registered that he’d opened the door.

  I gently pushed out of his arms and gave him a weak smile. “Hi. Can I borrow a cup of sugar?”

  Dad chuckled merrily at my lame joke and gestured for me to come in. When he headed directly for the kitchen, I wondered if he thought I was serious. He had to know I wouldn’t know the first thing about baking. Hell, I doubted he did either.

  “Are you hungry?” he asked politely.

  “Um, no. Is Lars home?” I could hear the faint sound of a televised football game but I couldn’t tell where it was coming from.

  “No. He’s working at one of his sites until noon. The Michigan game is on, though. I’ve been texting with your sister. She’s there and she’s got great seats so she’s been sending pictures of the action.”

  “Cool. What’s the score?” I shoved my hands in my back pockets when I couldn’t figure out what to do with them.

  “Nothing to nothing in the first quarter. A real nail biter,” he joked as he opened the fridge and pulled out two beers. “Come watch it with me.”

  “Oh, no thanks.” I shook my head when he tried to hand over one of the beers. “Dad, it’s ten a.m.”

  “Too early?”

  “A little.”

  He returned the beers and then opened another cupboard and grabbed a jar of M&Ms. “Well, it’s never too early for these,” he declared with a grin. He set the candy on the counter and grabbed a few then slid the container toward me.

  I dutifully took a couple and popped them in my mouth. “I haven’t had M&Ms in ages.”

  “They never get old. So…are you really looking for sugar or did something—”

  “I think it’s over,” I replied quickly. I didn’t want to linger on this but I was driving myself nuts and I hoped he might still have a bit of that special “Dad magic” that might make this nightmare seem bearable.

  He frowned. Then he hiked himself onto the countertop and motioned for me to keep talking. “What happened?”

  “Finn’s leaving. Moving to Chicago. I don’t know when but I think it’s soon and…I can’t think of a way to stop him.” I gave him a brief rundown, doing my best to keep it “parent friendly.” Dad listened intently, nodding or humming when appropriate but he looked a little surprised when I finished and asked, “What should I do?”

  “You should let him go,” he said sagely.

  “That’s it?” I gaped at him incredulously. “I was hoping for some superhero advice, Dad. Not a handful of M&Ms and a ‘better luck next time, kid.’ ”

  He hopped down from his perch and came to stand beside me. “That’s not what I said. I’m sorry, Josh. I hate to see you upset. I wish I could do or say something to change it. But all I can really offer is an ear.”

  “And M&Ms,” I quipped, running my hand through my hair.

  “Well, chocolate usually helps,” he said with a half smile. “This isn’t an easy one. You can’t make people do what you want them to. Sometimes you have to let go.”

  Worst advice ever, I mused unhappily as I let out a ragged breath. “Did Mom make you stay?”

  Dad frowned. “No. She didn’t.”

  “Then why did you stay?” I paced away
from him as the storm inside me rose. I knew I was out of line, but dammit life was so fucking unfair and I was tired of sitting on the sidelines letting it fuck me over time and time again. “I mean…look at your life now. You live in a great place in the city with someone you love and hell, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to tell that you’re happier than you’ve ever been. Do you ever think you wasted forty years you’ll never get back because you didn’t grab life by the balls when you had the chance?”

  “No.”

  “But you had to be miserable,” I insisted, stopping at the French doors leading to the outside deck. I stared at the small table, remembering that brunch months ago. So much had changed since that day. Good things. Why couldn’t things stay…good?

  “I wasn’t miserable at all. I had you.”

  I turned back to him and rolled my eyes theatrically, thinking my teenage self would have been proud. “Puh-leaze. That sounds like a lousy trade-off any day of the week.”

  My father smiled kindly. “Not so lousy at all. You and your sisters are the best thing that ever happened to me. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. And I wouldn’t need a second to reconsider. It has nothing to do with guilt or sacrifice. It’s just…love.” He paused for a moment and cocked his head thoughtfully. “You changed my life. You made me realize there was something bigger and better than I could possibly comprehend in this universe. Your curiosity, your funny sense of humor, your ability to find joy in almost any situation. You have no idea how much I’ve learned about myself because of the gift of you.”

  “I—didn’t expect that.” I sniffed and wiped a tear at the corner of my eye.

  “It’s true.” He shrugged and then moved toward me to open the door. “Come outside. I want to show you something.”

  I took a deep breath then followed him onto the deck and down a short set of stairs to a miniature vegetable garden. “After I watch the game with your sister, I’m going to come out here to tend to my plants. This is my new hobby.”