Trouble Read online Free Books by Devon McCormack

Categories Genre: Gay, GLBT, M-M Romance, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 111089 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 555(@200wpm)___ 444(@250wpm)___ 370(@300wpm)
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He turned back, and I wanted to look away, feeling as humiliated as I had when it all happened, but I made myself look at him.

As he headed back to me, sympathy in his expression, I was relieved, not only because he was back, but because it felt good to finally tell someone my truth.

I snickered bitterly. “Even as I say that, I can hear the excuses playing through my head. Every time I caught her. Every time I found out… You know, looking back, I can’t even remember an apology. Just half-apologies that I considered had to be good enough to make it work. I don’t think anything like that is all that tragic or can’t be recovered from. I’d say the worst of it was the control. Sheila always had to have control of every situation. Now that we’re not living together, I realize how much it affected me on a day-to-day basis, and put me on edge, always accusing me of the very things she was doing if I so much as hit the gym. I was walking on eggshells around her all the time. Stuff like that weighs on you a lot more than infidelity.”

His face had softened, but perhaps from keeping whatever secrets he felt lingered in his mind. He was good at disguising whatever he was feeling, basically the complete opposite of my expression, which was apparently totally readable for him.

“Too much?” I asked.

“A little too close to home.” He hesitated once again. “I don’t know if this is even covered, but am I safe to speak freely, or do I need to worry about mandatory reporting?”

I thought about my own concerns with that, juxtaposed with how he’d reacted when I’d mentioned talking to Kendra about his sexuality.

“I double-checked, and you’re kind of in a gray area since you’re eighteen, but…you’re safe to talk to me in confidence, even if I find out I’m in the wrong. I won’t betray your trust. That isn’t to say I won’t push to help you.”

He took a moment, likely debating whether he could trust me, then pushed through. “I know a thing or two about walking on eggshells, but I also learned that trying to avoid them doesn’t keep you from getting thrown onto the stairs, or kicked in the ribs… All the stepping on those shells is only an excuse that makes it easier to justify the hurt, but it’s all horrible.”

I saw the truth he was trying to get across to me in that response.

“Kyle, are you safe?”

“From the abuse, but not the memories.”

Seeing him standing there in such a vulnerable state was a startling contrast to the tough and defensive front he presented to the world—to me—most of the time.

He shook his head and turned the subject back to me. “She never should have made you feel like that. Controlled. No one who loves you should make you feel like that.”

I wanted to push him about his own past, but it helped knowing he was safe now. That was what was most important. And also that he’d actually opened up to me, given me more in those words than he had since I’d first met him.

“The person you’re married to should be building you up, not scaring you,” he added.

A nervous chuckle escaped my lips. “I’d say I felt that way at one point, but somewhere along the line, I lost my way. Maybe my next wife will be better to me.”

“She should be. She should be amazing to a guy like you.” Despite the uplifting words, the way they spit forth from his mouth seemed almost threatening. He approached me, moving slowly, his jaw tense as he continued. “A person like that can really get into your head, break some shit that later you realize can’t be fixed. It’s like that guy in the alley. Somehow these monsters, they find someone good, they find someone who’s fucking decent, and prey upon them. What kind of fucked-up world is it where shit like that happens? Where predators gravitate right to their prey?”

“I didn’t mean to suggest my wife is a monster.”

“I don’t need you to suggest it. I don’t care what you want to call Sheila, but as far as I’m concerned, she’s an asshole.”

As soon as he said her name, I felt like I’d revealed too much about myself, but I was more concerned about how close he was getting to me, just inches from my face. I didn’t back up, if only because as much intensity as he’d worked up, I knew it wasn’t directed specifically at me. That didn’t keep me from believing he might haul off and punch me out of an inability to control this primal anger bubbling up within him.

He started to turn, which gave me a moment’s relief, until he looked back at me, right in my eyes. “If I were your wife, I wouldn’t try to control you. I wouldn’t demean you or insult you, and I especially wouldn’t disrespect you by running around. I would fucking worship you, because I would know what a fucking incredible human being you are, and that your love and respect are worth my fucking worshipping the ground you walk on. I would cherish you, because I know how fucking hard it is to find someone who isn’t in it just for themselves, who puts others’ needs above their own. So I would always put yours above mine, knowing, being absolutely certain, that you would do the same for me.”



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