Numbness spread through his body, and he stared blankly at the picture. The photo held a place of honor on the screen, taking up the most space with other smaller images hanging out along the borders. Shit. Where did that come from?
“Connor?”
He ignored the voice on the other end of the line while he tried to rein in his wildly spiraling thoughts. If the picture had been any smaller it wouldn’t have been so bad. Maybe no one would recognize him and Graham in the image.
“Connor?”
He hovered the mouse over the picture and saw that there were already several comments associated with the image.
“Connor? Are you still there?”
Connor’s fingers trembled as he held the phone to his ear. His answer was short and to the point. “Fuck.”
“Are you okay?”
“I don’t…. Who? How?”
Connor clicked on the Comments icon. The first comment said, “Who the hell are these girls?” The next said, “Don’t know. GV girls aren’t that hot.” The relief he felt at these comments fled completely when he reached the fourth comment. “OMG. Is that Golden Boy and Guyliner?”
He couldn’t breathe. No matter how hard or fast he inhaled, oxygen wasn’t going where it was supposed to. White static blurred his vision and rushing sounded in his head.
“Connor. What’s the matter?”
Through the fog, an indistinct shadow moved toward him. He grew lightheaded as he struggled to breathe properly. Fast footsteps ran in the direction of the kitchen, a drawer slammed, and then the footsteps headed his way. Something snapped and then a paper lunch bag was held to his face.
“Breathe, Connor. Breathe.” His mom’s soothing voice finally registered in his panicking brain. He focused on evening out his breathing, and eventually he had it under control. Air wafting from the ceiling fan hit his clammy skin, and goose bumps broke out.
When he opened his eyes, Mom hovered over him. “What on earth was that about?”
The picture was still there, front and center on the computer monitor. He grabbed the mouse and quickly exited the screen. That was the last thing on the planet that he wanted Mom to see. “Nothing.” He reached for his crutch.
“Don’t you ‘nothing’ me.” She placed a halting hand on his arm. “Panic attacks are not nothing. Hyperventilating is not nothing. What’s going on?”
Mom was one of the sweetest, most understanding people he’d ever met. She was a crusader—everything she did was for the benefit of those she cared about. More than anyone else in his family, he could talk to her. She might be able to give him some kind of advice or insight into the situation. But no doubt she’d tell his dad. And that he couldn’t face.
Realization suddenly dawned. This was what today had been about. This was why everyone had been acting so weird. Even Marc and Allyson. They’d seen…. But did they believe it? Why hadn’t they said anything? Because they knew it was him and didn’t know how to respond? Or they figured it wasn’t him and didn’t want to add to his stress? There were too many questions and not enough answers; he couldn’t go into it with his mom, not yet.
“I can’t talk about it now.”
“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”
“Mom, I do. Really, I know that. But I can’t talk about it right now. Please.”
Her gaze was steady on him, considering. After a moment she nodded. “Fine, but if this happens again, we’re going to talk, even if I have to sit on you and force it out of you.”
Using his crutch, he levered himself out of the squeaking office chair. He bent forward and kissed his mother’s cheek. “You’re the best.”
“Use both crutches,” she admonished as he hobbled to the stairs to go to his room.
He nodded and began to tuck his phone into his pocket so he could grab the other crutch. His phone chimed with a text message alert. He must have ended the call during his little panic attack. He tucked the phone away and grabbed the crutch from where it rested against the wall.
When he made it to the room he shared with his brothers, he flopped back onto the bed and immediately wished he hadn’t. The movement pulled at his knee and sent screaming pain from hip to toes.
Connor pulled out his phone and dialed Graham’s number. He didn’t bother reading the missed text messages. Graham picked it up on the first ring. “Connor? Are you okay?”
“I’m getting there. Fuck, Graham, where did that picture come from? What are we going to do?”
“I don’t know. It was clearly a picture of the three girls, and we got caught in the background. Who are they, do you know?”
“I don’t. They’re not students here, and I don’t recognize them. So how did a picture of strange girls get posted to the GV Viking Net? And did someone post it because of us, or because the girls are friends of someone at school?”
“I read through the comments,” Graham said. “Did you read them?”
“I got to the fourth one and sort of freaked out, which freaked out my mom. I didn’t read any past that.”
“Well, the good news is that you can’t really tell it’s us. The picture doesn’t show our faces very clearly, and the lights and smoke sort of distort the view. Comments are split about fifty-fifty about whether it’s us or not. Your reputation helps, by the way. The Golden Boy image is good for something.”
“Do you think we can work with the site administrator to have the image removed?”
“We could try, but I think that would draw more attention to it. We can deny it if or when someone brings it up, but other than that let it alone. It should die off pretty soon.”
“You think?”
“I hope so. I’m really just winging it here.”
“Why do you care so much, anyway? People know you’re gay, so what difference does it make to you that people see the picture?”
“Screw you, Fitzpatrick.”
It was the first time Connor had ever heard Graham get angry.
“Okay, that didn’t come out right.”
“You’re right. It’s no skin off my nose if people see me kissing another boy. I haven’t hidden my preferences from anyone. But you’re my friend. That’s why I care.”
Connor sighed and rolled onto his side. “I’m sorry. I know this attention can’t be fun for you. You’re getting as much shit as I am. I shouldn’t take my mood out on you.”
“Connor, I don’t blame you. I know there’s a lot going on with you lately.”
Deciding that the comment he wanted to make would be easier done in the dark, Connor used a crutch to turn off the light. The dark blue curtains kept out the light from the slowly sinking sun.
“I’m sorry I’ve been such a dick lately.” Man, it seemed like he was apologizing to everyone lately. Hadn’t he just said the same thing to Marc earlier?
The silence worried him. He licked his lips. “I miss you. How crazy is that?”
Connor’s heart pounded. It was so quiet on the other end of the phone that he was afraid that the call had disconnected, or that he’d made Graham so uncomfortable that he’d hung up. Then, when Connor was about to apologize for being a pussy, Graham said, “I miss you too.”
Taking comfort in the anonymous darkness, Connor said what he’d been denying—and wanting desperately. “I want to see you.”
Graham sighed. “We shouldn’t. It’s probably better to let the rumors die down.”
“I know.”
Silence hung between them for a moment.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” Connor switched the phone to his other ear. “I mean, I haven’t exactly been fair to you.”
It took a moment for Graham to answer. “I guess it’s because I know you’re going through a lot of crap, and a lot of it I can relate to. And because when you’re not caught up in your mostly self-inflicted drama, you’re pretty great.”
Warmth spread through Connor; then something hit him. “Self-inflicted?”
“I shouldn’t have put it that way.”<
br />
“But what did you mean?”
“Someday you’re going to have to stop hiding.”
There was something in the tone, a bitterness that hinted at pain or anger. Connor didn’t need a map to follow the change in conversation. “I’m not hiding.”
“Right.”
“No, really. Right now I want to avoid a lot of rumors and speculation. That’s not the same as hiding.” Avoidance wasn’t hiding, was it?
“Someday,” Graham said, his voice almost too soft for Connor to hear, “I’m going to be with someone who isn’t afraid to be seen with me. Someone who’ll want me enough to not hide it. I don’t want to be someone’s shameful secret again. It hurts too much.”
The pain in Graham’s voice made Connor’s throat constrict. What he wouldn’t give to be that brave person for Graham, to say screw it to his family, his classmates, the community. But his entire future rode on his current plan.
“I wish things were different, that I was different.” Connor’s eyes filled, and he wiped at them with a temperamental swipe of his hand. “But, as my dad says, spit in one hand and wish in the other and see what fills up first.”
“That’s cynical.”
“That’s my dad. Lord, that’s all I need. I’m starting to sound like my father.”
“You might want to think about what that means.” Before Connor could respond, Graham disconnected the call.
CONNOR GAVE up on staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered to his bedroom ceiling. He’d counted and recounted them in an effort to shut his mind up so he could get some sleep. It didn’t help. Kory and Kaleb had fallen asleep a couple hours ago, but there weren’t enough imaginary sheep or glowing stars for Connor to do the same. He reached for his crutches and levered himself out of bed. Maybe warm milk would help. Or maybe a couple of hours of mindless infomercials.
He took his time, creeping down the stairs. The last thing he needed was to wake someone else up. The stairs creaked if he went down them too fast. Also, he needed to be extra careful with the crutches so he didn’t fall.
At the bottom of the stairs he noticed a pale light glowing from the kitchen. He only had a moment to wonder if someone had left the light on by mistake before he heard Mom’s voice.
“I’m worried, Ryan.”
Connor squinted at the clock on the DVD player. It was almost two in the morning. Why were his parents still up?
“We’ll make it work.” His dad’s voice was gruffer than usual, gravelly and tired.
His mom sighed. “I know. We always manage to make things work out. Maybe I can get a second job. Something part-time during evenings and weekends.”
Dad’s denial was immediate, unbending. “No.”
“Don’t be stubborn. You can’t. You already work six days a week, twelve hours a day. And now, with Connor’s medical bills, we won’t be able to keep up.”
“We’ll manage.”
Connor sucked in a breath and leaned against the wall.
“Ryan, we’ve gone over and over it. There isn’t any more money to be found. We’ve cut all the extras we can. Assuming we want to eat, we need another source of income.” There was a pause. “Maybe it’s time to consider withdrawing some of the money from the kids’ college funds.”
Since when did they have college funds?
“No.” Again, the denial was absolute. “There’s barely enough money in the account as it is. I refuse to take any out. Connor will be starting college soon. He’ll get what help we can give. I’m not taking that away from him, or the others. That money is theirs. I’ll talk to the bank tomorrow. Maybe we can take out another mortgage on the house or tap into our retirement savings accounts.”
The screech of chair legs against linoleum indicated someone scooting away from the table. “It’ll be okay, Jackie.”
Something compelled Connor to peek around the corner. His parents stood next to the table, stacks of paper and a calculator piled on top of it. His dad wrapped his arms around her and tucked her head under his chin. Connor’s mother leaned into him. They stayed that way for a moment, highlighted by a moonbeam.
Connor swallowed heavily before turning and making his way back upstairs.
Chapter 28
“WE NEED to talk.”
The scariest four words a guy could hear from his girlfriend. Connor stared at Allyson, who stood in his doorway with her arms crossed over her chest. It had been two weeks since his ACL reconstruction surgery. Two weeks of being treated like a baby. Two weeks of isolation—self-inflicted isolation if he was being honest—from his friends. Too many questions. Too many sly looks.
He didn’t want to invite her in. Every time he saw her it was a reminder. A reminder of what he’d done. A reminder of the act he was forced to play. A reminder of what he wanted, what he should want, and what he risked. Despite that, he swung the door open, gesturing her in.
“Anyone here?” Allyson looked around.
“Nope.” He’d been deserted. The time by himself had seemed like a blessing. It had been days since he hadn’t had someone hovering. Instead he found himself brooding about the way his life had flipped around. He’d gone from the Golden Boy with the golden future to the jerk who cheated on his girlfriend and whose plans and reputation were crumbling at his feet.
“Good.” She led the way to the kitchen then sat in one of the chairs, looking at him expectantly. “Sit.”
He sat.
She folded her hands on the table. “Now, tell me what’s going on.”
He blinked. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She blew out a breath. “Connor, you’re not stupid. Please don’t treat me like I am.”
He shifted in his seat. This was the perfect opportunity. He should come clean. Or better yet, he could piss her off enough she’d break up with him. The words wouldn’t come, though. He tugged at one of the Velcro straps holding his knee brace in place.
“Look,” he finally said, “things have been a little rough lately, that’s all.” He nodded at his leg. He lied with the truth, let her assume he was talking about his knee. Maybe then she wouldn’t look too much deeper into other causes of his foul mood.
Her face softened. “I think you need to get out and do something. You’ve been holed up too long.”
“I’m recovering from surgery.”
“You’ve been holing up long before that. Ever since the weekend in Chicago you’ve been isolating yourself. When was the last time you hung out with Marc or one of the guys from the team?”
“They’re busy with baseball and stuff.”
“Have you asked them? You hung out before when you were on the team too. If they had time then, they have time now.”
“I don’t know. I can’t stand the way they look at me. It’s like now I can’t play, they don’t want to have anything to do with me.”
“What makes you think that? Did someone say something?” She straightened her shoulders, ready to defend him. If he told her someone had been giving him a hard time, she’d probably march out and confront the person. Like Mom would. Which was one more reminder that she—and everyone else—was treating him like a child.
“No, it’s a feeling I get when I’m around them.” He shrugged.
There was a long pause, then Allyson said, “I don’t think you give them enough credit. They’re your friends; I doubt their friendship is conditional on your being on the team.”
“Maybe.” The complete lack of conviction rang clear in his voice.
Allyson leaned forward, bracing her elbows on her knees, and clasping her hands together. “There’s a party on Saturday night. You’ve heard about it?”
“Yeah, at Matt Macy’s place.”
“You should go. We should go,” she corrected. “You need to get out and do something fun, something social. You’ve been hiding from the world long enough.”
“I’m not hiding,” Connor said. “I’m recovering.” She stared intently at him. He couldn’t hold her gaze for
more than a second. “Fine. Fine, we can go to the party. It’ll be fun.”
She reached over and patted his hand. Like he was a toddler settling in for a bedtime story.
ALLYSON DROVE. One more thing to prove that he was completely helpless. The Macys owned a small farm outside of town. Several acres of corn—barely little sprouts this early in the growing season—surrounded a large rambling farmhouse that had been in the Macy family for decades. Matt was the youngest of four brothers, so by the time he was a senior, the house had earned a reputation as the perfect party venue when his parents went out of town for a weekend.
One of Connor’s crutches slipped on the rough gravel driveway leading to the house. Dozens of vehicles lined the long drive, indicating that the party was well attended and in full swing.
“You okay?” Allyson stepped close to him.
“Fine,” he snapped. “Let’s get inside.”
“Are you going to be this grumpy all night? Because if you are, I’m sure I can find someone more cheerful to hang out with.”
Connor stopped and glared at the ground. He was being an unreasonable jerk. It wasn’t Allyson’s fault that everything seemed to be falling apart around him. Taking his irritation out on her wasn’t fair. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Great. Apologizing again. “We’re here to have fun, so let’s head on in and have fun.”
When they entered the house, classmates greeted Connor with shouts of surprise. Yeah, he’d never been the party type.
Matt Macy came over right away. “Connor, dude, you made it. It’s about time you came to one of my parties. Beer and booze are in the kitchen.”
The place was packed, and his crutches made it awkward to make his way through the crowd. Several people ran into him, jostling his leg, and he gritted his teeth against the pain. By the time he reached the kitchen, all he wanted was to turn around and head back home. Why had he thought this would be a good idea? Oh, right, he hadn’t. Allyson had thought it was a good idea.
“Well, if it isn’t Golden Boy. Where’s your boyfriend?”
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