But he hurt too. His heart ached for Wade, and not only because he missed him. His heart hurt, physically hurt in his chest, with the knowledge that Wade wrestled with shame over the same relationship that Beau desperately missed.
He talked to Wade less and less, not because Wade asked it of him, but because he didn’t know any other way to cope. Doubts crept in, tormenting him at night when he tried to sleep. Flashes of anger left him feeling raw. Surely if Wade really loved him as much as he loved Wade, he would put an end to this torture? But that wasn’t fair. Wade had more than Beau’s fragile ego to worry about. He’d promised to be patient, and in just weeks, he was falling apart.
It didn’t help that Beau’s mom was thrilled with the pause in their relations.
“You’re both young,” she said when Beau called her on it one afternoon. “The odds of it working out were never great.”
“Because Trent and Xavier weren’t young when they met or anything,” Beau replied.
“And look at what happened,” she said. “They spent years living with anger and pain. I don’t want that for you. It’s better that Wade took the high road now. You can meet a nice guy in medical school—”
“Wade didn’t dump me. He asked me to wait while he sorted through an emotional mess, and I agreed.” He paused, thinking now was as good a time to purge as any. “And I’m not going to medical school. I’m going into nursing.”
She blinked. “Since when?”
“Since always,” he said. “I didn’t want to upset you, or Gran, or anybody, but I don’t want to be a doctor. And I don’t want to go away for years of schooling. My life is here.”
Gran was sitting in her recliner in the corner, quietly observing them. She snorted now. “Don’t you worry about upsetting me,” she said. “I was never prouder than when your uncle became a nurse. I’ll be just as proud of you.”
“Okay, but is this really what you want?” Twyla eyed him skeptically. “If you’re staying for Wade, I want you to think hard about that. I know you don’t want to hear it, but he might never be able to give you what you need.”
That hit him where it hurt. He’d had enough of those thoughts without his mother pouring salt in his wounds.
“I applied to the nursing programs here before Wade was even a factor,” he said. What he didn’t say was that he’d also researched doctorate programs — and the nearest teaching program in the wake of Amos’ death — as he wrestled with uncertainty about his future. He didn’t want to give her any leverage to try to change his mind now.
Twyla frowned, unable to argue his point. “Are you sure about this, Beau? You could do so much better than the universities around here.”
“Let the boy live his own life,” Gran said from her corner.
“Like you let me live mine,” Twyla muttered, but too quietly for her grandmother to hear. Beau always thought that Gran seemed to let them follow their own paths, but she was the matriarch of the family, and she did interfere in the parenting decisions at times.
“Fine, so you’ll go into nursing,” his mother said. “I see you’ve made up your mind about that. But what about Wade? You can’t wait forever. Life goes on.”
Beau shrugged. “I’m not ready to let him go. So, I guess I’ll wait as long as I can.”
“Just be careful,” she said. “Some regrets stay with you. I don’t want you to repeat my mistakes. Heartbreak can stay with you a long, long time.”
“Did you ever think that maybe Wade needs me waiting in the wings?” Beau asked. “Maybe I’m what he needs to move on from all that pain and grief.”
“Beau, you’re my son—”
“But I’m not you, Mom. Just stop making my life all about you.”
She clearly wished someone had sat her down and stopped her from committing to someone who would break her heart. But their situations were different. Beau wasn’t going to be left raising children on his own. He wasn’t married to Wade, he was just letting Wade find his way back to him. Right?
Please let him come back to me.
***
“Is there something else bothering you today, Wade?”
Wade sat in a chair that was too squashy in a gray room brightened by an arrangement of pale pink roses. Charlotte Green was a well put together woman with long dark hair usually pulled into a bun and large brown eyes. She reminded him uncomfortably of Anna, but strangely, she also reminded him of Beau. The coloring, the demeanor, the confidence in her feelings all reminded him of Beau.
Then again, everything did. He missed him.
Wade had excavated a lot of baggage during the six weeks of therapy with Charlotte. She made him call her by her first name, and she took the time to have some easy small talk at the beginning of each session, letting Wade take his time to dig into the difficult stuff.
In the early sessions, he’d focused only on his difficulty accepting his sexuality. It’d taken him three sessions to bring up what his father said four years ago, and two more sessions before he mentioned Beau.
“I’m worried I made a mistake,” Wade said.
“What kind of mistake?”
“My, uh … boyfriend. Ex-boyfriend? I don’t know what to call him,” Wade said with an uncomfortable laugh.
“Beau?”
“Yes, Beau. I asked him to take a break right before I started therapy,” he said. “I asked him to give me some time to work through my … self-hatred, I guess you’d say.”
“I remember. You said he agreed.”
“He did, but I’m afraid. What if he gets tired of waiting?” Wade said. “I miss him, but being apart from him, it’s getting easier.”
“That scares you,” she said, getting to the heart of it. Charlotte was great at reading between the lines, which helped since Wade had so much trouble putting his feelings into words.
“If it’s getting easier for me, then it’s getting easier for him, right?”
“Not necessarily,” she said. “He’s not you. You’re focused on getting better. He doesn’t have that distraction.”
“Still, our texts and calls are kind of falling off. What if he moves on?”
She nodded, looking thoughtful. Sometimes Charlotte took her time before responding, so Wade waited as patiently as he could instead of filling the silence, as was sometimes tempting.
“I won’t sugarcoat it. That could happen,” she said finally.
Wade clenched his hands on his thighs, trying to suppress the emotion those words unleashed in him. It might be easier not to see Beau every day, not to chat online, but that didn’t mean he wanted to lose him.
“Let me ask you something now,” she said.
He nodded, eyes squeezed shut.
“Why do you feel you have to choose between Beau and therapy?”
Wade looked up at her, surprised. He didn’t answer immediately, trying to order his thoughts into something coherent.
“I guess … because therapy is depressing,” he said finally. “I remembered the way I lashed out at everyone last time, and I didn’t want to do more damage by taking my moods out on Beau. And I knew it wasn’t fair to him, to say I loved him one minute and to be ashamed of that love the next.”
“Are you ashamed?”
Wade started to say yes, but he stopped. He might struggle with people knowing his sexuality. He might still wrestle with his father’s reaction when he came out. But he could never be ashamed of Beau.
“No.”
She smiled at the surprise in his voice.
“The second question, of whether you can balance a relationship and therapy, is really up to you, Wade. Therapy isn’t a finite treatment. There’s no cure. You might decide you don’t need it someday. Maybe in six weeks, maybe in six years. Maybe you’ll always need it.”
She took in his horrified expression and smiled. “I’m not saying that will be the case for you. For some patients, it is.”
Wade nodded. “I guess that’s true.”
“My point is that you shouldn’t b
e afraid to live your life. You’ve made a good start here, but you can’t put everything else on pause indefinitely.”
Chapter 26
Wade cruised the Ashe High parking lot. He had it on good authority, Shane, that Beau was catching rides with his friend Ker each day after school. With a little bit of spying, also performed by his amazing best friend, he’d found out the make and model of Ker’s car, so he could idle nearby.
After talking with his therapist, and giving himself a few nights to sleep on it, he’d decided that it was time to end the wait. If Beau still wanted that. Butterflies did acrobatics in his stomach while he waited for the final bell to ring. The possibility Beau wouldn’t want to return to a relationship with a closeted boyfriend was all too real. Wade wished he could show up and profess his love openly, in front of everyone, but he wasn’t ready.
All he really had to offer was a return to sneaking around, and when he thought about it that way, it was hardly the greatest offer Beau would ever get.
The bell rang, and a moment later the doors were flung open as streams of high school students headed for their cars. Wade was saved from his own despair. He was tempted to turn around and go home, to wait until he could offer more.
Then he saw Beau.
He was walking with Ker and Nate both, laughing at something they’d said. His hair was shorter, and he’d stopped hiding his curls. His clothes weren’t that different, but something about the way he wore them was. His jeans were tight, maybe tighter than the ones he used to wear, hugging his butt and thighs. His shirt was one Wade had seen several times before, though: a dark green Hulk T-shirt. He wore a navy-blue hoodie, unzipped, over it.
Wade felt as if he were in a dream, as he opened the driver’s door and stepped out. Slowly, he walked over to Ker’s car, waiting by the bumper as they approached.
Nate looked up, met Wade’s eyes, then said something to his friends. Beau’s head jerked up, eyes wide. 0Wade tried to smile, but judging by Beau’s wary expression, he didn’t pull it off. He wasn’t sure he’d ever been so nervous in his life.
“What are you doing here?” Beau asked as he came to a stop before Wade, flanked on both sides by his friends. Wade wasn’t sure what Beau had told them, but they were protective enough that he was sure they knew something.
“I was hoping you’d let me drive you to the hospital today,” he said.
“I’m not volunteering today.”
“Then maybe we could go do some gaming at my house, or um, I don’t know. Get a burger or something? I’d like to talk.”
“I’m not sure I want to.”
The balloon of hope in Wade’s chest deflated. “Oh.”
“It depends.”
“It depends?” Wade asked, glancing at Beau’s friends, who looked just as puzzled as him. “On what?”
“On what you plan to say,” Beau said. “If you plan to give me bad news, I don’t want to hear it.”
He looked at Wade, his eyes so full of love that Wade gasped a laugh. He’d been so terrified Beau had given up on him, and it was precisely the opposite.
“It’s good news, I think.” He glanced at Beau’s friends, still watching their exchange. “No need for your guards.”
Beau glanced over his shoulder, then nodded his head toward Ker’s car. “You can go. I’ll be fine.”
“Beau,” Ker said, with a warning tone. “Are you sure about this?”
Beau nodded and stepped back, letting Ker and Nate pass by. Ker stopped in front of Wade, her eyes narrowed.
“He won’t tell me exactly what happened, but I know it has something to do with you. Don’t hurt him anymore,” she said. “Sometimes I forget how to use the brakes on my car.”
The non-sequitur threw Wade for a minute, then he huffed a laugh as he realized she was threatening to run him over. “Don’t hurt Beau on pain of death. I got it.”
“Jesus, Ker,” Beau said, shaking his head. He was smiling, though, as he turned to Wade. “Well, let’s go. I hear a chocolate shake calling my name.”
“Okay.”
“You’re buying.”
***
Beau wasn’t entirely sure of what Wade would tell him once they were alone. Good news was subjective, but if Wade didn’t think it was bad, hopefully that didn’t mean a real break-up was imminent. Not that the non-break-up had been easy. In fact, it felt awful. Kind of like a real break-up.
He got in the car with a sort of cautious hope and buckled his seat belt. Wade started up the car and pulled into the line crawling its way out of the school parking lot. He was quiet, but that wasn’t unusual for Wade. Beau wasn’t, which wasn’t so unusual for him either.
“So, seen any good movies lately?” he asked.
Wade glanced at him. “Haven’t had much time. What about you?”
“Oh, I’ve had time,” Beau said, a sharper tone to his voice than intended. “All I’ve got lately is time.”
Wade’s hands tightened on the steering wheel, before he forcibly relaxed his grip.
Beau blew out a breath. “I’m sorry. This is … a surprise. I feel off-balance.”
“And angry.”
Beau looked out the window, watching the streams of students walk by. He tried to put his feelings into words that would make sense.
“I’m not mad at you,” he said. “More … just mad at the situation.”
“It sucks,” Wade admitted.
“It does,” Beau said. “I promised to be patient, but it’s harder than it sounds. Sometimes, I wonder if it would have been easier if we really did break up. Then I could try to let you go. But this limbo—”
“Is it too late then?” Wade broke in. “Have you given up on me?”
His voice was carefully controlled, but Beau watched the muscle ticking in his jaw. Wade was locking down his emotion, as he’d no doubt mastered as a closeted guy. But he had tells, and Beau could see them clearly.
“It’s not too late,” Beau said. “I’m impatient, but … you could probably show up in ten years, and it wouldn’t be too late. You’re like my own personal Kryptonite.”
Wade glanced at him, a relieved smile on his face. “I make you weak? I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
“Weak in the knees,” Beau said with a laugh. “You affect me, that’s what I’m saying. You affect me like no one else.”
They cleared the traffic snarl, and Wade finally pulled out of the parking lot. “Cheryl’s Diner okay?”
Beau placed a hand on Wade’s leg. “That depends.”
Wade smiled in amusement. “Depends on what?”
“Do you plan to kiss me?”
Wade’s leg jumped nervously beneath his hand. God, it had been so long it felt strange to talk about kissing. Maybe he was rushing Wade. The guy hadn’t even really shared his “good” news. Beau could be getting ahead of himself.
He lifted his hand, but Wade grabbed it and pressed it back onto his leg. “If you let me, I plan to kiss you for every day we’ve been apart.”
“Then maybe you better take me to your house.”
***
Wade led Beau through the living room, which was empty. From deeper in the house, his mother called out.
“Wade, is that you?”
“It’s me,” Wade said.
The door to a guest room they’d converted to a computer room opened, and his mother stepped out. Her eyes widened when she saw Beau.
Wade reflexively released Beau’s hand and shoved his own in his pocket. Beau didn’t say anything, but Wade felt guilty. Jerking his hand away didn’t send the message he wanted. He and Beau still had some making up to do before he would feel secure in the knowledge he hadn’t killed their relationship.
“Beau’s here,” he said.
She smiled. “I see that.”
“We’re going up to my room,” Wade said, doing his best to ignore the flush working its way up his neck.
“To talk,” Beau added.
His mother’s eyes were bright as she laughe
d. “You’re both adults. You can do what you like. I’ll be on a call with Ray in a few minutes, and Katy’s at her friend’s house, so it should be quiet around here.”
“Okay,” Wade said.
“Beau, feel free to stay for dinner,” she said. “I’ll have something ready around six.”
Beau glanced at him, trying to read his expression. “Don’t get your hopes up too high,” Wade said. “Her cooking is not as good as Gran’s.”
“Wade!” She slapped his arm with a laugh. “You’re on thin ice, buddy.”
“I’d like to stay,” Beau said. “I’m sure your dinner will be great.”
She pointed at Wade. “Take note. That’s how you treat the cook.” With another laugh and a wink, she was gone.
Wade took to the stairs. Their house, like the James’ house, was a two-story, though it was remodeled right before his mother bought it and had a much more modern look.
Wade went directly to his bedroom, opening the door and allowing Beau to follow him before shutting the door and turning the lock. When he turned around, he saw Beau walking the room, his eyes on the keyboard and music stand piled with handwritten sheet music.
Beau cast his gaze around, taking in the pale blue walls and scattering of band posters, mostly rock bands, though Wade was starting to get into bands with a more bluesy/jazzy feel these days. Beau circled the room to the mirror on the outside of the closet door, which had a mix of notes and inspirational quotes written on scraps of paper tucked into the frame.
He stopped there, studying the words.
“Remember why you’re doing this,” Beau read out loud. “There’s nothing wrong with you,” he read off another slip of paper. “Gay is beautiful. Beau is gay, and he’s beaut—”
“Okay,” Wade said, stepping between Beau and the closet door. “You don’t need to read those.”
“Beautiful,” Beau finished softly. “You think I’m beautiful?”
“You are … beautiful,” Wade said, feeling silly saying those words. He didn’t want Beau to think he didn’t see him as masculine. “I, uh, meant your spirit, mostly. You’re a beautiful person.”
Room for Recovery Page 23