Chapter 31

CHAPTER 31

J ackson

I wake with a start, and it takes me a few minutes to remember where I am. Larchdown House. I don't know what woke me, but I'm too awake to sleep. I'm surprised I managed to sleep at all, knowing that Luca is under the same roof. It must have been the amount of wine I drank last night.

Thoughts of Luca make me aroused, and I marvel at the effect he has on me. I haven't really been into sex that much before, but now all I want to do is kiss him, lick him, taste him, fuck him. That thought startles me slightly and I settle in to thinking about how that would feel. How good it had been in the shower, and how tantalisingly close I had been. Part of me wants to head over to Luca's bedroom, climb in beside him, and kiss him. But I don't have the nerve, so my hand makes its way to my cock instead, and I indulge in thinking about him. I'm in a strange room and have nothing to wipe myself off with, so I use a pair of my boxers—they needed a wash anyway.

There's no way I'm going to be able to get back to sleep now, but it's still dark outside, dawn a little way off. I rise and pull on some jeans and a sweatshirt. Silently I creep down the stairs—well almost, it is an old house and there are a few creaks—and let myself out into the garden. Following the path through the meadow I walk up to the folly. Sitting down on the stone bench I look out over the hills, which are just beginning to show their shapes in the lightening grey of the sky.

I'm lost in my own thoughts, and don't notice until a figure sits down beside me. I startle, but then see it's Luca.

"It's a good spot, isn't it." He says it more like a statement than a question and the answer is obvious, so I don't.

"I couldn't sleep."

I hear a tiny laugh beside me, and I think he's smiling.

"I used to come here a lot when I was younger. I couldn't sleep then either. I found a lot of comfort in the view when I needed to think things out."

I don't know if he's creating an opening for me to talk, but for once, I want to. I owe it to Luca for him to know the truth.

"There has only been Natasha before."

"Your ex-wife?" I feel his attention on me now.

"I . . . I haven't been with anyone else."

He waits patiently, and I take a deep breath.

"I'd never been interested in sex. I considered myself straight as well—that was the only option open to me. But I didn't find women attractive."

"But you got married." I sense his curiosity.

"I was flattered that Natasha was attracted to me. At twenty-one, I hadn't exactly had a lot of experience. My brother introduced us. She was really nice and easy to be with at first, just friendly like. One night when I'd drunk too much, I let my guard down and we had sex. She told me she was pregnant and so I married her."

"And was she?"

"No. It was a classic case of naive guy and entrapment."

"How long were you together?"

"Five years."

"Five years! That's a long time. Why did you stay with her?"

"She could be really nice when she wanted to, and she was very supportive of my job at first. She didn't want sex from me—well, not often anyway. But she became dissatisfied. I can't blame her for that. Over time, she changed. She became pushy, saying that I needed to get a better job, we needed a bigger house in a better area, newer cars. She wanted more social standing. She was a deeply unhappy woman, but she was also manipulating me. I couldn't see it at the time, as I thought that if I couldn't give her love, I could give her the things she wanted, and it was alright. But that's not a basis for a relationship. She got a taste of the good life. In the end, by the time I realised that she'd been using me to acquire all these things for her, she filed for divorce and took it all. I lost my wife, my house, and my job, all in one go."

"Your job?"

"Natasha thought my boss was worth more than me and hooked her claws into him."

Luca looks at me, a curious expression on his face.

"So are you bi-sexual or gay?" he asks softly, taking my hand.

I shrug and pull his hand into my lap, interlinking our fingers. I stare out again over the horizon. The sky is a deep shade of pink, with a tinge of orange.

"My dad left when I was little—about three or four years old. I don't remember him. My mom was left with myself, and my brother and sister. My brother's three years older and my sister is five years older. It was hard for my mom, really hard, and she took two jobs to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. As she was so busy, us kids pretty much had to bring ourselves up."

I stop, remembering how tired Mom always looked. Luca squeezes my hand.

"When I was around eight or nine, I put on my sister's ballet skirt. I don't remember why, except for thinking it was a nice chiffon material. I had no concept of what I was doing. David saw me. He shouted at me, ‘Only girls and poofs wear skirts,' then beat me up. I had a black eye and a split lip. He told my mom I'd gotten into a fight at school. After that day, he took every opportunity to teach me that being gay was wrong, it was unnatural. He used to drag me with him to taunt people who he thought were gay or even slightly effeminate. If I didn't join in, he'd beat me. Everything was used as a slur. ‘I'm not eating vegetables, they're gay.' Or insulting people on television."

"What about your sister?"

"She was a teenager. Her ballet skirt was ripped. She told us that we could never touch her stuff again and didn't speak to us for a week. She moved out pretty much as soon as she was sixteen, and I haven't seen her in years. After she left, my brother got worse."

"What was your brother's problem?"

"I didn't find out until much later. My dad had left to go and live with another man. He'd wanted to keep in touch with us kids, but my mom cut him off. She always told us he wanted nothing to do with us—that he'd rejected us. My brother was old enough to remember him. I guess he took his leaving pretty hard and needed something to direct his anger on. Homophobic comments and slurs were so ingrained into me that they were an automatic response, and I've had to make a conscious effort to not let them out, especially since arriving in Larchdown. If I had any attraction for anyone, I kept it so well buried that I didn't recognise it myself—until I met you."

I turn to look at him.

"And I'm definitely attracted to you. Though it feels bigger, much bigger than that. Since meeting you I've felt more alive somehow, and more . . . I suppose . . . more myself. Thank you."

Luca drops his gaze and looks down at our hands.

"I've always known what I am," he says. "I can't imagine what it must have been like, not being able to be true to yourself. I am sorry you've had that."

I know he's been through far worse than me, so I feel nothing but gratitude at his statement.

"I'll be okay. It feels so new, and I guess a little strange, but in a good way. I just don't have much experience, so please be patient with me."

"You're doing fine—more than fine." He smiles at me.

The first rays of sunlight make their presence known over the distant hills as I pull Luca towards me and place an arm round him. We sit silently, watching the sunrise.