Weight of Silence(56)

Jace’s eyes widened in alarm. “No one can know, Gavin. He gave me the flash drive. I’m not going back to school. It’s over.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“He showed up tonight to fuck with you, you know that, right?”

“I know. It worked too.”

Gavin pulled him into a hug, grateful when Jace didn’t resist. “I’m not going anywhere, Jace. I promise.”

“Good.” Jace hugged him hard. “I’m getting used to having you around to keep me from doing stupid shit.”

“Door swings both ways, you know.”

“Yeah.” He sighed. “You want to get out of here? I’m not really in the party mood anymore.”

“Whatever you want.”

Jace pulled back. “Give me a minute to wash up and pull myself together?”

“Sure. I’ll go get our coats and tell Rachel we’re leaving.”

“Thanks.” Jace kissed him, a gentle brush of lips. “For everything.”

“Anytime.”

As Gavin reached to open the bathroom door, Jace said, “One thing?”

“Yeah?”

“If you see Jordan downstairs, don’t punch him or anything, okay?”

Gavin grinned. “Spoil sport.”

“My dad’s a cop, and the last thing I need to see on New Year’s Eve is him arresting my boyfriend.”

“Good point. See you downstairs.”



Jace nudged the bathroom door mostly shut with his foot, then turned on the faucet. He stared at his reflection with disgust. His nose was red, his eyes swollen. He looked like he had a bad head cold—or like he’d been bawling like an infant in his boyfriend’s arms less than five minutes ago. Gavin’s unconditional support had been surprising and amazing, and it had only cemented his growing feelings for him.

Jace had lived with the weight of Jordan’s blackmail—and even now, couldn’t think of it as anything else, especially not the r-word—for so long, with so much self-loathing, that he’d been sure Gavin would dump him the minute he knew. He’d heard it over and over again in his head, felt the stabbing pain of rejection when Gavin only held him tighter, wanted him closer. Jace didn’t deserve that sort of love when he still saw himself as a coward who’d let another man abuse him.

He blew his nose on some toilet paper then washed his face in the sink. He felt a little better, distanced from the stomach churning shock of seeing Jordan downstairs, lighter from the confession he’d made to Gavin. More of the anxiety that had chewed a hole in his guts these last few weeks broke apart. He felt freer, one more old wound finally reopened so it could heal properly.

He wanted to tell Gavin the rest of the story—the part that included Rachel’s abortion—so Gavin fully understood why Jace had bought the term paper. Giving Gavin that information was important to him, and he couldn’t explain why. He needed Rachel’s permission first, though. It was mostly her secret, and he was getting tired of secrets. He’d ask her tomorrow.

Jace dried his face on a towel, adjusted his rumpled clothes a little, then opened the bathroom door. He was halfway across the dark bedroom when a figure shifted in the shadows and shut the bedroom door. He jumped, heart leaping into his throat, and took a step back. His hip bumped the corner of a dresser at the same moment a light switched on.

Yellow lamplight glared from the corner, illuminating the shape of Jordan near the door. He leaned against it, arms over his chest, eyebrows raised. Jace stared at him, mind completely blank for several seconds, until something overtook him. Not the fear and revulsion he’d felt downstairs. This time, he felt a surge of anger and hatred—all of it directed right at Jordan where it belonged.

“If you need the bathroom it’s all yours,” Jace said flatly. “I’m done.”

“Not even a hello, Jace? I’m disappointed.” Jordan’s gaze raked up and down, and Jace’s skin prickled with disgust.

“Hello. Now get out of the way so I can leave.”

“Your boyfriend won’t miss you for a few minutes. He is your boyfriend, right? He has this angry, possessive thing going on that’s quite charming.”

“Yes, Gavin is my boyfriend.” Jace had never said those words to anyone except Gavin, but he liked them. He wanted to say them again, just to be clear. And to feel their power.

“Does he like to share?”

“Fuck you, Jordan.” He took four measured steps closer, cutting the distance between them in half. “Move.”

“Fuck me? No, thanks. I wouldn’t mind another go at your ass, though, pretty boy.”