I still have my arms around Eric.

In all the times we’ve held each other, I’ve felt some distance between us, a sort of coldness from Eric. Now I understand why—the scope of the betrayal in his life…the bastard who’s the reason he carries this pain with him every day.

As he trembles, still caught up in a fit of tears, my total adoration and appreciation of Eric intensifies. But with that comes hatred, anger, rage. Not toward Eric, but toward the motherfucker who hurt him.

I wish I could hunt down this uncle who violated his trust…and his body…and beat the shit out of him. I want to tear him apart with my bare hands and make him plead for his life.

The sorts of thoughts I have about vengeance are horrible. They make me judge myself, yet I don’t see why anyone should have any consideration for him when he didn’t have any for my Eric.

I kiss Eric’s hair, pulling his body closer against mine.

He needs me, yet I wonder if he can understand how much I need him, how much I’ve come to care about him in such a short time, and how much I appreciate that he was willing to share this with me despite how painful it must have been.

I don’t try to pressure him or make him get up off his knees any faster than he needs to. We shift our position on the floor, so soon I’m sitting on my butt with him curled up, nestling his face into my chest, taking deep breaths as a calm settles between us.

“I didn’t think it would be like that,” Eric says.

“We’re going to get Ty back,” I remind him.

“No, Jesse. His reaction was pretty much what I expected, if not better. But telling you about what happened to me… I’ve been carrying that around for so long. I didn’t think I would ever be able to tell anyone about it. It was a fight to push the words past my lips.”

He sits up and turns to me, his sun-kissed face redder than usual, especially under his eyes, where he’s been wiping his tears. As much of an emotional wreck as he looks like, he’s as beautiful as ever, with that jet-black hair that matches the trim, even scruff decorating his sharp jawline. Those thick pink lips are as kissable as ever, even more so now that he looks like he needs me to kiss away all his agony. Captivated as I am by his face, it’s those striking blue eyes that always have the power to take my breath away.

Those eyes look different than they ever have before. I can’t tell if it’s because of what he shared with me about his past or what we shared together through our experience of revealing our betrayal to Ty…or if it’s just in my head, a sort of imagined connection because of all that’s happened.

“How did it feel to tell me?” I ask him.

His face quivers. I’m not used to seeing Eric like this. He’s not one to show his vulnerabilities—he’s a front of confidence and strength. There’s always been a wall, and in one moment, with our confession to Ty and his confession of what his uncle did to him, the wall came crashing down. Now I see a man who’s totally exposed, someone who makes so much more sense—how he acts, his guardedness, his pushiness…and also his extreme consideration for me, his constant care and protectiveness when we were first messing around. In some ways, I think he was trying to show me the care and thoughtfulness that he was never offered when he was abused.

“It was hard,” Eric says, “but once the words came out, this pressure that had been weighing on my chest for so long lifted. I was ashamed, still angry and hurt. It was similar to the time I came out to Ty’s mother. There’s something about disarming secrets that feels so good on your conscience.”

“I agree, and we got some big ones out tonight.”

I should give him space. That seems like the right thing to do, but I can’t help myself. I set my hand on his face and run my thumb through his scruff. I’m wondering how he’ll react, but he leans into it, closing his eyes and inhaling, as though he’s never really had a refreshing breath of air since what happened to him when he was sixteen.

Those rage-filled sensations return to me.

I shake them off because right now I need to be focusing on loving Eric, on giving him what he needs, which is for me to be here for him.

I can do that. I can just sit here and appreciate what we shared.

“I’m falling in love with you too.”

What it did to me to hear those words pushing past his lips…what it does to me knowing he’s been falling the way I have been.

And falling for Eric has been like falling from the hundredth story of a skyscraper—fast and terrifying.

“Eric, you don’t know how much it means to me that you shared that with me.”

“I’ve never told anyone that,” he says.

In some ways, I’m shocked.

No one? At all?

Although, considering how he’s reacting, I shouldn’t be surprised. “What have you been telling your therapist all these years?”

“Anxiety,” he replies. “This and that. There have been a lot of times where I didn’t even want to admit that was the reason for my issues. That my stress and those things that stay with me were part of who I was. I mean, there were things that set me off. That’s life, right? I hear some people can repress trauma. I wish I was one of them, because for me, I think the more I’ve tried to push it away, the more I’ve tried to forget, the more it’s always been there fighting for attention, trying to make me vividly aware of every detail, creeping up on me in my nightmares.”

I see his pain, his hurt. I see Eric, the real Eric—the one I want to know better.

“Part of me still feels as though I shouldn’t have told you how fucked up I am,” he says.

“We’re all fucked up, Eric, and you didn’t do anything wrong. He took advantage of you. He hurt you. If I could fucking hunt this guy down…”

I calm myself once again because I know my anger can’t be helping him. “There was nothing you could have done differently back then. That man was clearly fucked up, for what he did to you, for the way he did it to you. You deserved so much more.”

“Thank you, Jesse. You’ve been so incredible about all this, and if you had pushed any harder than you had, I would have done what I always do with people. I would have found a way to push you out of my life.”

I honestly didn’t think it was a good idea to push even when I did. He was weak and hurt, but I could feel he wanted to tell me something…wanted to share, and three simple words—quid pro quo—were clearly enough to help him free his mind.

“But I don’t want you out of my life, Jesse. I don’t think you understand how much I want you in my life.”

He leans into me, offering a kiss, soft at first, but then he grips the back of my head and pulls me close.

He pushes me down to the floor.

This chemistry, this spark we’ve always shared, helps diffuse some of the fury pulsing through my veins, fury about what was done to him. His pain helps me remember what’s important, and that’s this incredible connection we share. And if that can give him some relief in this moment, then he deserves that.

He lies stretched out on top of me, feeling so fucking good with his weight pressed against me. He pulls away and glances down at my lips in a way that leaves me curious as to what he’s looking at.

“You scare me, Jesse.”

I worry he’s talking about bottoming for me, which set him off so dramatically. He mentioned he couldn’t give me that, but Jesus Christ, that’s the last thing I’m worried about. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with,” I assure him. “That shit about bottoming—”

“That’s not what I mean. Yes, bottoming scares me. But you don’t scare me in the bedroom. You scare me because even when I’ve been with guys, I’ve never wanted to put my heart on the line. I’ve never wanted to be the kind of man I want to be with you. I can’t explain it entirely, but you make me want to get better, to change, because I want to be the kind of man you deserve.”

“Eric, you don’t have to change for me. I just want you to get help.”

His gaze sinks, and I can tell that he sincerely fears that. He must know that the road to recovery isn’t a simple confession. It might have been cathartic, but considering how long he’s carried this, how much pain he’s held within him, it’s not something he can wish away. It’s something he’ll have to work on.

“Hey,” I tell him, reaching out and resting my hand on the back of his head. “You’re not on your own in this. Not anymore.”

He chuckles, a nervous chuckle, it seems. His face trembles slightly once again. “How about we make some cookies? I have a feeling neither of us is going to be getting sleep anytime soon.”

“We’ll just be getting fat,” I tease.

He smiles, doesn’t laugh at it the way he normally would, but I can tell he’s coming back into his own after everything that’s occurred this evening.

One step at a time, I tell myself. I know what I’ve signed up for isn’t easy, but I don’t need it to be. My life hasn’t been easy. I’ve never met anyone like Eric before, never shared this sort of connection with another person, and I know deep down that this is worth it.

That he’s worth it.