Page 68 of Backward Motion
Sam lifted his chin to peer at Connor. “Wait, what journal?”
Connor leaned back with a sigh. “When I was younger, I used to scribble stuff down in notebooks.” He’d been telling Sam about the conversation with his mom at the hospital. “It helped me get out some of the scary thoughts and clear my head.”
“Connor,” Sam whispered, brushing the tips of his fingers against Connor’s forehead.
“I know, it was lame.”
“No. It was important.”
Their eyes met. Connor had missed this—the harmony he felt when he was with Sam, who understood Connor without him having to explain himself. “Anyway, when my mom admitted they’d had their suspicions, I automatically assumed they’d read something in the journal I left in my dad’s van one morning before school. Turns out, not bringing girls home was enough of a tell.”
“Didn’t opt for the old fake-girlfriend trick?” Sam teased.
“Clearly, I didn’t think this through,” Connor said wryly. “My mom said they weren’t sure, especially as time went on and it never came up.” He tried to ignore the dull ache in the pit of his stomach. “I’m still mad at myself. It’s like we were halfway there, and I just couldn’t step up and follow through.”
“You can’t think like that,” Sam murmured, curling an arm around Connor’s waist. “What happened when you told him?”
“I mean, he wasn’t thrilled or anything. He’s not going to slap a rainbow bumper sticker on his car. But he wasn’t devastated either. Not like I imagined he’d be. Ending up in the hospital really threw him for a loop. He was... weirdly philosophical.”
“Well, it’s all out in the open now.”
Connor cocked his head. “I just realized I never asked about your dad.”
“What about him?”
“How did he react when you came out? Were you scared to tell him?”
“Not really, no. He’s always been kind of blasé about me being gay. Not as protective as my mom, who turned into a PFLAG maniac when she found out.”
“I bet she did.”
“I guess it’s his way of showing it’s no big deal,” Sam said. “Like he’s not going to treat me any differently. Sometimes he can be a bit clueless, but at least he’s not afraid to say what he thinks, which gives me a chance to change his perspective.”
Connor stared into those warm brown eyes and saw the kid he’d walked past in the halls at school, jaw set, shoulders high, expecting the world to fight back. He remembered pouring lighter fluid on his most personal confessions, hoping to erase the parts of himself he couldn’t bear to accept.
“You know, the fire at Krazinski’s,” he began haltingly. “It was an accident. I needed to get rid of them—the journals. I thought if I burned them, I wouldn’t—”
“Have to face the truth?”
Connor nodded, and his heart hammered in his chest. “All these years, I never stopped thinking about you and wondering what you were doing. I knew that whatever it was, it had to be better than life back here.”
Sam’s arm tightened around him. “I think whatever we’re struggling with follows us wherever we go,” he said quietly. “And if I’d known back then, I would have given you this...” He took Connor’s face in both hands and kissed him deeply.
“Piercings and all?” Connor asked when they parted.
“Piercings and all.”
Connor pressed his face into Sam’s neck, inhaling him. There was something so comforting about his scent. “So, Oakdale for the win, huh?” he asked as Sam stroked his hair. “What’s your plan?”
Sam rolled onto one elbow and looked down at Connor with a smile. “Well, for starters, I’m going to get my own place. I want to invite you around, for a change, and not have to contend with the logistics of fucking on the foldout.”
Connor snorted with laughter. “I don’t know. Sounds kind of kinky.”
“Not as kinky as you think.”
“And after that?”
A shadow crossed Sam’s face. “I have to go back to Austin and get my stuff. My parents put most of it in storage, but there are some things I need to pick up in person.”
