Back Piece

by L. A. Witt

Goose bumps sprang up along his spine. He welcomed all those little aches and twinges. Though he felt guilty for lying to his family, he had no regrets about last night. None. Well, aside from waiting as long as he had—why hadn’t he thought of sneaking Colin into the hotel room sooner?

  That was obvious. He was scared. No two ways about it. Twenty-six goddamned years old, and he was still afraid of his parents discovering their son had secretly been one of them all along.

  And you think you’ll ever have the balls to come out to them?

  Maybe.

  Maybe not.

  All he knew for sure was that last night, need had finally trumped fear, and he’d given in and invited Colin. Not a moment too soon, either. That visit had been well worth the wait.

  He released a nervous breath as he gazed up at the pulpit. He should’ve felt guilty, sneaking around behind his parents’ backs and then showing up at church with them, but he didn’t. If anything, he was ashamed of his own cowardice, and that shame made his stomach turn.

  The sex had left his body more satisfied than ever, but just being in the same room with Colin—finally—had done his mind a hell of a lot of good. He’d missed more than Colin’s body. The way Colin looked at him. That mischievous laugh. How he never sounded the least bit judgmental about anything—not Daniel’s lack of experience, not his physique, not his cowardice over coming out to his parents. Everything Daniel did or thought or said or felt, Colin accepted like it was perfectly normal. Around Colin, Daniel could be . . . Daniel.

  He closed his eyes and sighed.

  Last night, he’d satisfied his craving for sex and acceptance before Colin had slipped out and gone home. This morning, he’d woken up alone, but smiling. It was getting harder and harder to keep smiling, though.

  Here in this hard, uncomfortable pew, his tired body kept taking him back to last night, but it wasn’t just last night. Or even just Colin. Since his family had arrived, he’d carefully chosen the most opaque shirts he owned. He didn’t dare wear anything that might, in the right light or under an unexpected rain, show the lines on his skin. His mother would hit the roof. His father would quote Leviticus, and all Daniel would hear was the other piece of Scripture that was dangerously close to the one forbidding tattoos.

  Thou shalt not lie with man as with woman . . .

  He swallowed hard and gazed up at the cross behind the pastor.

  If I shalt not lie with a man, then why am I wired to feel this way about one?

  He glanced at his family again, and his stomach churned. Sitting here now, he was further away from his family than he’d ever been in his life, even when they’d been on opposite sides of the continent or the globe. They were physically in the same place now, but he was hiding so much from them. Hiding tattoos. Hiding a boyfriend. Hiding who he’d become since leaving home, and who he’d been all along. The truth was eating him alive, burning on the inside like his tattoos had burned on the outside. Not because he hated who he was. Because they did.

  Daniel chewed the inside of his cheek. Some online forums and even his buddies from the ship had told him he needed to stop worrying about what his family would think. He was an adult. He had secure employment, health insurance, and a place to live for at least the next several years, so being disowned wouldn’t put him out on the streets. He didn’t depend on them like he had before he’d enlisted.

  On paper, all he had to do was tell them he was gay, and let the chips fall where they would.

  Except he knew where they’d fall. If he came out, his parents would shun him. All his adult life, he’d known that he was one accidental “I’m gay” away from them unapologetically turning their backs on him. They hated something he couldn’t—and didn’t want to—change about himself. They might hate him if they knew.

  He let his gaze slide toward his family, and his heart sank.

  They were still his family. All his life, he’d been close to them, and he’d done his level best to maintain that while the Navy sent him all over the world for months or years at a time. It hurt knowing they’d never accept him. It hurt even more to think about losing them, even to their own bigotry.

  Sighing, he faced forward again, and a subtle twinge in his neck reminded him of Colin. Of the fact that Colin wasn’t here, and couldn’t be here.

  Daniel’s eyes stung. He didn’t know what to do. He was living in two worlds. In one, he had the family who’d loved him all his life, but he had to lie about who he was. In the other, he didn’t have to hide anymore, and he could be with the man who could make him feel things—physically and emotionally—that he’d never even fantasized about. If God Himself appeared right then and told him he had to decide, once and for all, between those two worlds, Daniel couldn’t begin to decide which way to go.

  Tomorrow, they’d meet Colin. With any luck, they’d like him.

  And then maybe, somewhere down the line, Daniel could tell them the truth.

  Except . . .

  He stole another glance at his parents.

  This was their decision. Their bullshit. Why should he continue on course for an ulcer while they blissfully believed their son was a good heterosexual Christian?

  I need to tell them. They won’t like it, but I can’t carry this alone anymore. I can’t keep lying.

  His heart sped up as he faced front again. There was no point in waiting. Time wouldn’t soften the blow. He needed to say it. Get it out. Let them deal with it instead of letting his silence and fear eat him alive.

  Today. He took a deep breath. I need to do this today.

  Staring up at the pulpit and the pastor whose words he hadn’t been listening to, Daniel searched for any reserves of courage he had that could calm this roiling in his gut. He could do this.

  The pastor motioned for everyone to bow their heads in prayer, and the sanctuary was suddenly alive with the soft whispers of movement and the quiet creaks of pews.

  Daniel swallowed. He’d been going through the motions all morning. Singing with the congregation. Bowing his head and closing his eyes when the pastor called everyone to prayer. Listening intently to the sermon about . . . about . . . whatever it had been about. Pretending he still believed.

  This time, he didn’t fake it.

  He pressed his folded hands against his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. And for the first time in a long time, Daniel prayed.

  * * *

  The Moore family tradition had always been to hit a local diner after church. There were several near the church they’d visited in Chesapeake, but apparently a lot of other families had the same idea.

  After driving around for a while, they finally found a mom-and-pop place in Suffolk, the next town over from Chesapeake. The hostess seated them at a chrome-edged table by the window in the sunny dining area decorated with 1950s nostalgia.

  “That was a nice service.” Mom skimmed over the menu while she spoke. “I’m not sure I like the music, but it was all right.”

  Dad shrugged. “The music wasn’t bad. Daniel, you should think about going there.”

  Daniel gripped the edges of his menu for dear life. “There’s a chapel on base.”

  Mom peered at him. “And have you been going?”

  He fixed his gaze on the list of Belgian waffle variations. He wasn’t hungry at all, but it was something to focus on besides his mother’s scrutiny. “No, I haven’t.”

  Her disapproving sigh made his skin crawl. “Honey, you need to go.”

  Actually, I need to tell you something.

  His mouth went dry. Clearing his throat, he kept looking down at the list of food that didn’t sound good at all. “I usually work on Sundays.”

  “They don’t have Wednesday services?” Dad asked.

  “Um . . .” I know you guys aren’t going to like hearing this, but—“I’ll look at the schedule when I’m off leave.” His own words made him cringe. Awesome. Another lie. As if he hadn’t already lied by agreeing to go to church with them even though he was as Christian as he was
straight.

  Except I did pray.

  Desperate times . . .

  “Daniel?” His father’s voice startled him.

  Daniel shook himself. “Sorry, what?”

  Dad tilted his head. “I was asking what you thought of the sermon?”

  I didn’t listen because I was trying to figure out how to tell you that I’m—

  “Uh, it was . . .” He gulped. “Great. It was great.”

  The skeptical arch of his mother’s eyebrow told him he was busted.

  “Daniel.” She clicked her tongue. “It doesn’t do you any good to come to church if you’re not going to listen.”

  You’d be amazed how much you tune out when you’re used to sermons making you suicidal.

  His skin crawled. He squirmed, igniting all those pangs and twinges that kept his mind at least partially on his amazing night with Colin. The difference between then and now was incredible. As if he’d needed anything to drive home how distant he was from his family and how close he was—and wanted to be—to Colin.

  Just come out and be done with it.

  He exhaled. “Listen, um—”

  “Are we ready to order?” the waitress chirped as she materialized beside the table.

  Damn it.

  “Hmm, I think so.” Dad looked over the menu as if he’d never seen it before. While his parents and sister ordered, Daniel gave it another look, too. He was pretty sure anything he ate would come right back up, but if he didn’t eat, his parents would interrogate him and order twice as much food as he actually needed.

  “Just the scrambled eggs and hash browns, please.” He handed her the menu. “And a coffee.”

  Not that I need any caffeine right now.

  “Okay.” She smiled. “I’ll put that in for you.” She collected their menus, and then she was gone. And now Daniel didn’t have a menu to hold his attention. Just his parents and his sister, who was focused on her phone anyway.

  Now. I could do it now. Throw it out there and be done with it.

  He glanced out at the parking lot and the car they’d all arrived in.

  Shit. That would be an awkward ride back to Norfolk. Okay, so maybe he’d wait until tonight and—

  No. No! You’re twenty-six. For God’s sake, quit being a pussy and a doormat.

  As if it were that easy.

  “Is your friend still joining us tomorrow?” Mom asked.

  The friend who I had sex with last night while you thought I was sleeping?

  Daniel’s stomach shriveled. “Oh. Yeah. He is.”

  “Well good.” She smiled. “It’ll be nice to meet more of your friends. Aside from the people you work with.” The slight wrinkle of her nose made him fidget. “They’re an interesting bunch.”

  Dad grunted quietly, but said nothing. Then he looked across the table at Daniel. “So is the ship’s chaplain one of those . . . progressive ones?”

  Daniel’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Somehow, he croaked, “Progressive, how?” You know exactly what he’s gonna say.

  “One of those who will ‘marry’ two men.” Mom’s lips twisted in disgust. “The military doesn’t really accept all that nonsense, do they?”

  For about two seconds, Daniel debated telling them about the guy he knew in supply who’d just changed his name after marrying his husband, or the senior chief who’d brought her wife to the Navy ball last year. Then maybe he could segue into the words that were burning the tip of his tongue.

  Mom. Dad. I’m—

  “I don’t know,” he finally managed. “It’s not . . . not really something I pay attention to.”

  “Well, hopefully the Navy is still respectable,” Dad ground out. “But I don’t know. I’ve heard some stories.”

  Daniel swallowed. “I, uh, just try to keep my head down and work.”

  “Good idea.” Mom gave him a pointed look. “But will you please start going to the chapel? It’s one day a week, honey.”

  He smiled despite the acid in his throat. “I’ll check the schedule.”

  “Good.”

  Mercifully, they changed the subject, and went on chatting about some of the sights they still wanted to see. Daniel tried to hold onto what little courage he’d found, but by the time their breakfast had arrived, he gave up. His nerve and his appetite were both gone, and he was only going to be able to fake one of them.

  As he choked down a bite of scrambled eggs, it occurred to him that maybe it was a mistake to have Colin join the family tomorrow.

  On the other hand, maybe it wasn’t. Having him there wouldn’t give Daniel the magic courage he needed to come out. But it would give him comfort.

  It would give him someone who knew him and still wanted him.

  God, I wish you were here right now . . .

  Chapter 27

  Colin parked outside the Jet On Inn, and tried not to think about the last time he’d been here. Not that his body was going to let him forget, but still.

  On his way to the room where he’d been told to meet everyone—the one to the right of Daniel’s—he reminded himself he was here for Daniel. That this was to help keep him sane. It didn’t matter how nervous Colin was, only that Daniel was reassured that yes, it was okay to be who he was.

  Colin definitely was nervous, though. He’d met families of his exes in the past, but he’d never been this wound up about it. Granted, he didn’t usually meet them after having stealth sex with their closeted son while they’d watched TV in the next room, and they usually weren’t Pride-picketing homophobes.

  He’d made peace with the idea of being introduced as a friend, but he was terrified he’d do something to tip his hand. Or that someone might’ve heard his voice through the wall the other night, and they might recognize him and wonder what he’d been doing there . . .

  He shook himself, pushing those thoughts to the back of his mind. It wasn’t like he’d put an arm around Daniel or try to steal a kiss. That was the silver lining to being gay—no matter how out he was, he was well-accustomed to keeping a platonic distance in public. Affection stayed as far behind closed doors as sex.

  So he wouldn’t physically give them away.

  He couldn’t make any promises about his face, though. Even Matt and Pete had noticed his stupid grins and silly smiles whenever Daniel texted him or walked through the door. And Amanda had relentlessly teased him about how obvious he was when Daniel was in the room. He couldn’t help it. One look at Daniel and his whole body responded like they were touching.

  No, I can keep a poker face today. For Daniel’s sake, that’s exactly what I’ll do.

  Outside the room, he paused to collect himself. Then he tapped his knuckle on the door.

  When it opened, Daniel met his gaze with a nervous smile. “Hey.”

  “Hey.” Colin swallowed. “Ready for this?”

  “Not really, but . . .” Daniel stood aside and gestured for him to come in. “Hey, everyone, this is my friend Colin.” Colin tried not to get offended over being downgraded to a friend with such casual ease; he’d known it was coming and knew damn well what Daniel was doing. That it was all an act. Still, it stung.

  Smiling anyway, Colin shook hands with Daniel’s parents and sister.

  “It’s lovely to meet you, Colin,” Daniel’s mom said. “And where did you two meet?”

  “The gym,” Colin said without hesitation. He had a script, after all. “We both work with the same trainer.”

  “A trainer?” Daniel’s dad gave a subtle grunt of disapproval and elbowed his son. “The Navy not whipping you into shape?”

  Daniel chuckled. “The Navy makes me run. My trainer makes me lift.” He nodded toward Colin. “If I work at it long enough, maybe I’ll even look like him.”

  Colin’s stomach fluttered. Someone wanted to look like him?

  “You’d need more than a gym for that,” Christina said. “How many hours did it take to get all those tattoos?”

  “Oh. Uh.” Colin glanced down at his arms. “A lot.”


  “Did the one on your neck hurt?” she asked.

  “It’s a tattoo,” Daniel said. “Of course it hurt.”

  “How would you know?” his mother asked pointedly.

  “Uh . . .”

  Colin shrugged. “It’s a needle that stabs your skin a few thousand times per minute. Of course it’s going to hurt.”

  “They must not hurt that badly.” She gestured at his arms. “Or else you’ve got a really high pain tolerance.”

  “Eh.” He tried not to squirm under the subtly disapproving scrutiny of Daniel’s parents. Man, now he got what Daniel meant about feeling sixteen again. “Some hurt more than others.”

  Christina laughed and turned to her brother. “So when are you going to get one?”

  Daniel’s eyes darted toward Colin.

  “Oh, honey.” Daniel’s mom groaned. “We’ve been through this. Please tell me you’re not going to get one. They’re just . . .” She paused, glancing at Colin. “I mean, you’re not . . .”

  “I hate needles, Mom.”

  “Oh. Good.” She squeezed his arm. “Good. Very good. Because I . . .” She glanced at Colin again. “No offense, sweetheart.”

  Colin smiled. “None taken.” It wasn’t a lie—he’d long ago grown a thick skin against people who judged his various choices, particularly the ones he made no effort to hide. And he admittedly got some smug satisfaction knowing that her “needle-hating” son had a significant portion of the Greek and Norse pantheons on his back, not to mention that swallow on his chest. What they didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Or Daniel.

  He glanced at Daniel, who had redirected his parents’ attention to a map, probably of today’s destination. He was still kind of edgy, but didn’t seem quite so on the spot.

  Colin’s smug satisfaction wilted. He’d recognized all too well the little half-truth Daniel had told his folks. He’d told his mom he hated needles, and she’d accepted that as a promise not to get a tattoo. Maybe closeted kids just had more practice with that kind of thing. Not directly lying, but not telling the whole truth, either.

  “Eh, I don’t really want to ask any girls to the dance.”

  “I promise I won’t close my bedroom door when I have a girl over.”