Page 67 of Leave

“Like I said, it doesn’t have to be details. I just don’t want to accidentally leave you to fend for yourself with someone who… did things they shouldn’t have.”

Nolan shuddered. “I’ll be fine.”

I cocked a brow. “That’s not a ‘no, they won’t be there.’”

“No. It isn’t.” He started cutting into his steak again. He didn’t say anything more.

I fought the urge to sigh with frustration. “So theywillbe—”

“Let it go,” he snapped, and I jumped. He met my gaze, then exhaled and laid his utensils down. “Just… let it go. Please? Having you here will help a lot. But I don’t—it’s in the past. I want it to stay there.”

I gritted my teeth. He’d never so much as raised his voice to me, not even when he was annoyed by typical roommate stuff. This was obviously a touchy nerve for him, and I got that. But I didn’t like just pretending things hadn’t happened.

“I get it,” I said quietly. “But I don’t want to accidentally buddy-buddy up with whoever hurt you, you know?”

“I won’t hold it against you. You don’t know, and I’d rather you didn’t. I don’t want anyone to know. This”—he gestured at me—“is the farthest I’ve tipped my hand, and I don’t want to tip it any farther. Okay?”

Anger flared hot in my chest, but it wasn’t directed at him. How much had his abuser cowed him? Had they threatened him? Blackmailed him? Whodidthat to someone?

Too many,my experience as a cop said.Way, way too many.

Nolan must’ve seen more of my reaction than I’d intended to show, because he went on. “It’s not something I want anyone in my family to know about. Especially not now, right before my little brother’s wedding. It’s…” He picked up his fork and jabbed at his steak with it. “It’s not something I want anyone to know about.” The pointed look he shot me over the table added the unspoken,“Including you.”

“Okay.” I nodded sharply. “So what do you want me to do? I’m following your lead here.”

“Just be there,” he said. “You don’t have to be glued to my side or anything. Just… be there.”

I nodded again. “Okay. I can do that.”

What choice did I have?

There was a steady stream of people coming into Carol and John’s house, and I was introduced to all of them in turn. I hoped no one actually expected me to remember everyone’s names, though. I was terrible with that anyway—if my coworkers didn’t have name tapes on their uniforms, I’d be SOL. When it was a parade of strangers without name tapes? Yeah, I was fucked.

I was also on uncomfortably high alert, looking for tells that might give away what Nolan wasn’t willing to say out loud. He didn’t want me to know, and I wanted to respect that, but both the cop brain and the side of me that was fiercely protective of Nolan couldn’t help scrutinizing everyone. I wouldn’t out thembecause he didn’t want that, but maybe if I could clock whoever the “creepy uncle” was, I could help Nolan keep his distance. All those years of navigating my parents’ passive aggression about my sexuality had made me a pro at redirecting conversations, diverting people’s attention, and otherwise avoiding discomfort. I wasn’t sure how healthy that was, but if it helped me put space between Nolan and his abuser, then I wouldn’t look the gift horse in the mouth.

“I thought you were a Marine, kid!” Uncle Rick gestured at Nolan’s hair. “Letting it grow out on vacation?”

Nolan blushed and ran his hand through his hair, which had grown out a little since we’d left. “Eh, I don’t keep it as short as I used to anyway. The jarhead thing just wasn’t my style.”

“Pfft.” Rick scoffed. “Back when I was a Marine, it didn’t matter what yourstylewas.”

“Oh, stop it, Rick.” Carol elbowed her brother. “You liked being shaved bald.”

“I did, but it wasn’t like they gave us a lot of options!” That was the start of a lengthy monologue about the modern military getting too soft, and he even went off on a tangent about how it was “ludicrous” that the armed forces were cracking down on sexual harassment. “I don’t know what these ladies expected when they enlisted.” He barked a laugh and smacked Nolan’s shoulder. “You don’t sign up to be a Marine because you don’t want to hear guys swearing and being crude.”

Nolan laughed, but he sounded vaguely uncomfortable.

Fortunately, right about then, Uncle Rick was distracted by another uncle’s Seattle Breakers T-shirt, and the conversation turned to hockey.

Nolan, quite obviously relieved, stepped away to the kitchen under the pretense of getting another Coke. I trailed after him, both because my own drink was empty and to get a bead on him.

I didn’t ask him outright if he was good; I didn’t want him getting defensive or thinking I was nosing around for information. Instead, I popped open a fresh Sprite and nodded back toward the living room. “So your uncle’s one of those old school Marines, huh?”

Nolan laughed. “Yeah. He thinks he’s God’s gift to badassery because he was active during the Gulf War.” He rolled his eyes as he brought his Coke can to his lips. “Settle down, Uncle Rick. You were a postal clerk at Camp Lejune.”

I snorted. “Seriously? But he thinks he’s a war hero or some shit?”

“Something like that.” Nolan chuckled, shaking his head. “He was always smug as hell to two of my cousins because they enlisted during peacetime, so they had it easy. Never mind one of them went to Bosnia, but…”

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