Let It Beatle Box Set - 7 Gay Romance Stories

by J. D. Walker

  I said nothing in response and kept my eyes on the chicken as he continued into the house.

  It took an hour of yelling and things being tossed around, from what I could hear—someone would be fixing what was broken and it wouldn’t be me—before the two men came outside. Rafe had a black eye and a busted lip. Serge had a bruise on his cheek. They weren’t smiling, but at least they were communicating now, one way or another.

  “Food’s ready,” I said and made myself a plate before sitting down to stare out at the ocean below us. Rafe and Serge murmured their thanks and made themselves comfortable.

  I was glad they were at least speaking to each other. As for Rafe and me, I wasn’t sure we could go back to what we were before all this, since I really didn’t know who he was anymore. Did he?

  Later on, I left the brothers to play Frisbee without me and went to the workshop to take out my frustrations on the headboard. I turned on the overhead light after the sun set and carved more of the design I’d created specifically for this piece.

  I was so intent on it, I didn’t realize someone had come into the shop until Serge said, “Thank you.”

  I squealed like a stuck pig and he chuckled.

  “You always get so intense when you’re working. It’s like nothing else exists.”

  After glaring at him for a few seconds, I went back to work. “So you and the sheriff are talking now?”

  “It’s a start.” He tapped my hand to get my attention. “He wouldn’t admit it, but I know you’re the reason he came by today. Of course, I also heard that you two had a huge blow up at the precinct, so…”

  I shook my head. “This damn town.”

  He chuckled. “Yeah.”

  Serge clasped my shoulder and squeezed. “Seriously, Woody. You put yourself on the line to get us back together, and I’ll never forget it.” He sat on a stool and watched me work. “Rafe says he’s been to two AA meetings.”

  My eyebrows rose at that declaration. “I see. Well, good for him, I suppose.” I sanded a curve in the wood.

  “He also kinda, sorta admitted to being gay, but about choked on his tongue while saying it. And said he tried to apologize to you for his poor behavior, but you didn’t respond.”

  I felt anger well up inside me. “How nice for him ‘kinda, sorta’ coming out. How nice that he thinks a simple apology will remove the words that made me fucking mute for two days because they hurt so much and cut so deep. If he thinks that’s enough, he’s fucking wrong. He’ll have to do a hell of a lot more than that.”

  “I know that, and I told him so. He’s a little lost right now, Woody. He’s been living in a self-created world of loathing and deception that’s going to be hard to get out of. The alcohol helped him cope with things, and without it, it’s all right in his face. You might be the only one who can help him.”

  I was so shocked it was laughable. “Say what now?”

  “No, really.” He leaned forward. “You remember how he reacted when you came out, and then when I came out? Worlds apart, right?”

  “Yeah, I remember.” It hadn’t made any sense at the time. “So?”

  “I think he’s hiding something.”

  “Duh.”

  “No, I mean something that even he’s not aware of, and it has to do with you. He doesn’t treat any other members of the gay population in this town, me included, the way he does you. He’s never made crass jokes to me, only you. He’s always teased you, singled you out. Think about that.”

  I considered our recent kiss, but shoved that back down. I laughed humorlessly. “Don’t tell me that you think he’s been attracted to me this whole time and just didn’t know it. What’s this, grade school? A boy likes another boy and he puts snails in his desk to show he cares? I call bullshit, my friend.”

  Serge didn’t waiver. He was actually serious about this. “I don’t call bullshit.” He got up. “I’m going to bed. He needs you, Woody, more than even he knows, or can understand. You’re likely gonna have to be the one to explain it to him.”

  “I did what I did for you, not him. I’m done playing fix-it with this family.”

  “Woody…”

  “No way in hell, buddy.”

  * * * *

  The three of us spent Independence Day together along with a huge crowd on the beach doing barbecues, playing games, and later, watching fireworks. As the month went by, Serge and Rafe hung out a lot, even more than they used to before the “incident,” as it was now called. I thought that was great and I was happy for them.

  I continued to keep my distance from Rafe, basically out of self-preservation. He was unsure around me now, which made it easy to stay away. I gave him space. No matter what, I didn’t want him to feel so uncomfortable in my company that I jeopardized his relationship with Serge.

  I also didn’t want to consider what my best friend had theorized, but the thing was, I had thought about it in the past. And now, there was the kiss. Watching this new, uncertain Rafe, who no longer made lame “woman” jokes and was mostly tongue-tied in my presence, had me at a loss. I figured I’d endured enough pain and trauma in my life to not have to deal with this, too.

  But damn it, my conscience kept bugging me to help Rafe, if only because I knew how difficult it was to come out of the closet, even in this brave new world. And here he was, a man heading toward forty and holding a highly visible position in town. Rafe was deathly afraid of repercussions, if he went public, and I understood his fear. Crap.

  Finally, one Saturday afternoon, as Serge, Rafe and I were hanging out in the workshop—I had Rafe measuring and marking wood so he’d keep all his digits intact—Serge announced he had an appointment he’d forgotten about. Rafe looked nervous and I was pissed. We’d been set up.

  After Serge—the ass—left, I continued tweaking a drawing for a rocking chair ordered by someone in town. There was silence between Rafe and I for a good fifteen minutes until he broke first.

  “Can you ever forgive me?” he asked as he set aside the paper and pencil he’d been using to make notes.

  “For?” I wasn’t going to make this easy. Didn’t see why I should.

  “For insulting you. For…all the nasty things I said, for being a hypocrite and a fool, and forcing myself on you.”

  I sighed and looked up. Rafe was sweaty, his black hair stuck to his forehead and T-shirt molded to his chest. I ignored that part. “Was it the alcohol, or was there some truth in what you said?”

  He straightened his shoulders and replied fervently, “No truth at all, I swear it. I was unbelievably stupid, hurtful, and my use of alcohol made me a jerk. You are the last person, next to Serge, that I would ever want to hurt in this world. I look back on my behavior over the years, especially of late, and I’m ashamed of myself. I used hateful words toward you because, well, then I wouldn’t have to think about…myself.”

  Rafe stared at the table while he played with a pile of sawdust. “I’ve known, since I was fifteen, that I was gay. But I couldn’t be, you know? I was the jock, I was the homecoming king, I played college sports, and then I became a cop. In none of these scenarios did I think I could be an out-and-proud gay man and be taken seriously.”

  It was amazing to me that we were even having this conversation, but I went with it. “You internalized your homophobia.”

  He swallowed. “Yes.”

  I cut a piece of wood before my next question. “Serge says you’re going to AA now. How’s that coming along?”

  Rafe shifted on his stool. “It’s tough. Being sober is frickin’ hard. And by the way, yes, I knew all about the comments people made regarding my drunken shenanigans. I brought it all on myself, though.”

  I shrugged. “All you can do is take a step at a time.” I made a note on my sketch. “It’s the same way with coming out. To truly be yourself, to be at peace with who you are, you have to accept it. You have to own it, not run from it. Not everyone wants to fly the rainbow flag, but you can still be out and proud to where you’re comfor
table. Hiding who you are always comes back to bite you in the butt. I really don’t think you’ll have to worry about this town. Everyone knows your brother is gay, and we have a highly visible gay population. It’s likely that you’ll be respected even more because you told the truth, for once, and you’re trying to clean up your act. Hold your head up, like the rest of us do. It gets easier each time you do it.”

  He smiled nervously. “You think so?”

  “Take it from someone who’s been the subject of gossip in one way or another since the age of three. I know so.”

  * * * *

  Later that evening, Rafe followed me inside the cabin. I gave him a can of soda and had water for myself. Since finding out he’d been going to AA, I’d gotten rid of the beer in the house. Serge and I had never been big beer drinkers anyway.

  He sat in the kitchen and watched as I cooked spaghetti. “Woody…Serge said you stopped talking for a couple days after I acted like a turd. I…I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to be the cause of a setback, and God, I felt like such a shit heel when he told me.”

  I groaned. “Jesus, can Serge ever keep his mouth shut?”

  Rafe gave me a tiny smile. “He loves you like a brother and would do anything for you, and you for him. It was always the two of you, wasn’t it? Thick as thieves. I was a little jealous of that special relationship you both seemed to have, and then later…”

  “Later, what?”

  “Nothing.” All of a sudden he wouldn’t look at me. “I should go. I’m on shift tomorrow and I’m tired. Being sober wears me out, funny enough.”

  “Not so fast, man. We’re talking now, so let’s make the most of it.”

  Rafe stared at the table as he tapped the side of the can. “I was fighting feelings for…someone.”

  Something occurred to me as I shared out our meal. “Have you had sex with a guy, Rafe?”

  He didn’t respond, so I glanced at him. His face was bright red.

  “You have, haven’t you.”

  A minute nod.

  I sat across from him. “How often?”

  He ate a good portion of his meal before he replied. “Often enough.”

  I really shouldn’t be surprised. “You were safe, I hope?”

  He cleared his throat. “Not in the beginning. I had a scare, but it passed, thank God.”

  “Jesus, Rafe.”

  “I know.”

  Curious, I asked. “Did you enjoy it? More than the women you’ve slept with?”

  He was a little flushed in the face when he said, “A lot more. In fact, the only reason I could even get it up with women was by fantasizing about men.”

  “I see.” I shared out second helpings for both of us. “Planning on doing that anymore?”

  “Sleeping with women, you mean? No.”

  “How about going out with a guy, in public, and not in the bathroom stall of a bar? That was the reason for your STD comment the night you were piss drunk, right? You almost got one, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah. I was dumb.”

  “As long as you’re smarter about things now, it’s a lesson learned.”

  He swirled spaghetti around his fork. “Can I ask you something?”

  I got him another soda from the fridge and more water for me. “Sure.”

  “When was the last time you went out with a guy? Or even to a club?”

  “It’s been a while. I’m fine with things as they are.”

  “Really? You’re okay being alone? Don’t you have…needs like everybody else?”

  “Sure.” I grinned. “That’s what my fist is for.”

  He rolled his eyes. “I’m serious. After all you’ve been through, you deserve to be with a…man who would move heaven and earth and love you beyond reason.”

  I was surprised that he would say this. It was so far outside his comfort zone, it wasn’t funny. Still…“After the things you’ve done, the way you’ve made fun of me, I’m not sure how to take that.”

  Rafe winced. “I know, and I understand. I meant it, though.”

  I leaned back in my chair to study him. He seemed sincere. “Okay.”

  “Thank you.”

  We finished our meal and he helped me tidy up the kitchen. A first for him. He never cleaned up after himself, unless he was desperate, if he could help it. “If this is what comes of you being sober, I like it.”

  He swatted me lightly on the shoulder. “Stop it. With Serge out of the house and you not coming over anymore, the house became a pigsty. It gave me something to do that didn’t involve drinking. You’d be surprised how clean the place is.”

  “I’d pay good money to see that.”

  “You can see it for free. Come over tomorrow night. I’ll provide food.” At my raised eyebrow, he added, “Not cooked by me.”

  “Ah, because we’d need to call in our volunteer firefighters.”

  He shrugged. “Probably.”

  I walked him to the door. “Sure, I’ll come over.” Why did this feel like a date? I must be dreaming. “What time?”

  “Six too early?”

  “Nope. I’ll unblock your number on my phone now, so you can text me if something comes up.”

  He gave me a sheepish smile. “I’d appreciate that.”

  “Okay…well, thanks for the talk…and the apology. I appreciate it.”

  “I meant it, Woody. You’re better than all the people in this town combined. You’re stronger than all of us, and I wish I could be more like you.”

  “You’re stronger than you think, too, and you’re improving daily. If you need to talk some more, you know where I am.”

  “Thanks. And by the way, congrats on the director position.”

  “Jesus, Serge is a motor mouth.”

  He laughed. “You know it.”

  “Thank you. It’ll be a rewarding position.”

  He left soon after that, and I thought about spending time at Rafe’s house the next day. I had no idea what to expect, but if Serge was right, and that kiss had meant anything, it would be interesting. It remained to be seen if I would be interested, too.

  * * * *

  “Wait, did you just say Rafe asked you over for dinner?” Serge asked Sunday morning as we ate breakfast. He’d stayed away until late in the evening on Saturday, so we hadn’t had a chance to talk.

  “Yup. Weird, right? And don’t think I didn’t know what you were up to yesterday. You thought you were slick.”

  “So it was obvious. Sue me. It needed to be done. Rafe’s been looking mopey and miserable for weeks. Anyway, back to tonight. You realize this is a date, right?”

  “No way, man. We’re just buds hanging out like we used to before the ‘incident.’ But he did say something about fighting feelings for someone in the past…maybe he wants to talk about that. He’s newly out, at least to himself and us, after all. I dunno.”

  “God, you’re an idiot.”

  I chewed on a blueberry pancake and pointed my fork at him. “Learned from the best.”

  “It’s a date, dufus. He has feelings for you. You’re in denial.”

  I shook my head. “It’s just too hard to believe. After all this time? Come on.”

  “It’s Rafe we’re talking about, remember? The guy who rarely ever admits he’s wrong about anything, or doesn’t get a clue until it smacks him in the face. You’ll see. If I’m wrong, I’ll cook for a month.”

  I laughed. “You’re on!”

  * * * *

  The first thing I noticed when Rafe let me into the house was the smell of flowers.

  “Did you cut some of Mila’s roses?” I asked as I followed him down the hall. If Mila could see this place now, she’d probably freak out, it was so clean. And her oldest son had cleaned it. Man!

  “Yup. They’re on the table in the kitchen.”

  “The scent is wonderful, but it’s not as good as what’s coming out of the oven.” I stopped by the refrigerator and crossed my arms on my chest. “Who did you bribe to cook for you?”

 
; “The new cook at the diner. I owe him a favor, as a result, but it’s worth it.”

  I shook my head and sat at the table. “Why are you going to all this trouble, Rafe? Is this a date?”

  He didn’t answer me right away, busying himself with sharing out our food, then pouring sparkling cider into two wine glasses. Yup, seemed like a date to me.

  Once he was seated, he said, “I wanted to do something nice for you, after all the times you’ve cooked and cleaned. Is that bad?” He looked so earnest, what could I say?

  “No, it’s not bad. In fact, it’s lovely, and thank you. But, I know there’s another reason. Tell me,” I said as I propped my elbows on the edge of the table. “Who was it that you had feelings for, way back when?”

  Rafe sighed. “Woody, can’t we just enjoy our meal and…”

  “Nope, sorry. Out with it.”

  He closed his eyes, then took a deep breath and opened them to stare straight into mine. The strength of the emotions that I witnessed there, the stark need he’d hidden from me for decades, blew me away. “It was you, Woody. It’s always been you, and as the years went by, I tried harder to bury it, to hide behind teasing and screwing chicks and alcohol until it all blew up in my face. And then in the end, I realized I wasn’t even worthy of you, if I couldn’t be true to myself first…Well, it’s all a mess now.”

  I leaned back in my chair. “I see.”

  “Can we eat, please?” he asked, and I nodded.

  We said no more as we dived into our meal. It was very good. Murphy at the diner was a find in a million, a drifter turned local. I patted my stomach and groaned in my chair when it was all gone. “Damn, I’m beyond full.”

  “Yeah?” Rafe asked and I burped. He laughed. “Got it.” He stood and took our plates to the sink. “Help me clean up and we can take a stroll on the beach. It’ll help the food settle and we can piss in the bushes, if necessary.”

  I snickered. “Trust you to ruin a nice moment.” I helped him tidy the place, then went with him out the door and down the hill.

  There was a worn path from years of foot traffic, and it led us right down to the sand on the far edge of the coast. As it was close to sunset, the beach was mostly empty, so we strolled along unimpeded. It was pretty right then, and warm. I rolled up my shirt sleeves and sauntered close to Rafe’s side, content in his company.