Page 37 of Heart Strain

14

Jameson

My heart is breaking for the years of agony Holden experienced. I wasn’t even brave enough to tell anyone I knew I was gay until I left for college. Pretending it was only because I was worried about the repercussions with the macho men in my family, or even other kids at school, would be a lie. My greatest fear had actually been my mother’s reaction. To hear that Holden suffered from the very thing that had caused me too much anxiety to even consider coming out is gutting me. Instead of his story making me feel justified in having hid that part of myself for so long, I feel remorse that I hadn’t been braver—stronger. Maybe he wouldn’t have had to suffer alone, maybe the two of us would have gone through it together, and he’d have had the support he so desperately needed.

“I’m so, so sorry, Holds. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.” His smaller, lithe body continues to tremble in my arms, so I move up onto the couch and gather him in closer, breathing him in. I realize as I inhale his fresh scent that his smell has come to represent comfort to me. In the morning, as much as I enjoy my time with Simba and Nala, I don’t feel as if I can breathe until Holden opens the door and settles into my car. Just that thought makes guilt claw at my chest; this is what he needed growing up, what he’s providing me with every single day while we wait for Drix to wake up. Slowly rocking him, I run my hands down his back soothingly, muttering nonsensical words so that he knows I’m here for him and he’s not alone.

Eventually he tucks his head in tighter under my chin, and his tears are no longer hitting my chest and soaking through my shirt. When he begins to tense, I immediately start talking before he can regret what he’s told me or act self-conscious. “I know I keep saying I’m sorry, Holds, but I really am. I understand how useless and unloved you feel when your own mom treats you like dirt, like you’re an embarrassment. I won’t even try to pretend that it was as hard for me since I was older when it got really bad; plus, my dad always saw and tried to balance the scales. But if there’s one thing we have in common, it’s getting stuck with a shit mom.”

Holds relaxes back into my arms and begins randomly stroking up the side of my back, already offering me comfort when he’s only now settling down from crying over his own past heartbreak. The man in my arms is unlike anyone I’ve ever met, selfless in a way I didn’t know existed. “Tell me more,” he whispers.

“No, now is about you.”

“Please, Jameson. I need to focus on something else for a few minutes.” His breathing is slowing and not as ragged, but I can still feel the air on my neck from the little hiccups from crying that are rasping through his lips.

“My mom wasn’t really a bad mom, at least not outright, until later when my dad got in trouble. But like Hendrix, my brother, Jovany, will tell you she’s fantastic. The problem is, he’s never had a reason to see her any other way, you know? It’s like everything he’s ever wanted to do or be already lined up with her wishes for her sons, so he didn’t have to face those darker sides of her.”

“What do you mean?” We’re both barely speaking above a whisper. Holds adjusts himself slightly so that Peanut can slip onto his lap between us. The poor thing had been lying on the other side of Holds whimpering since his daddy began to cry. Holds doesn’t move far, though, keeping one arm around me as he strokes Peanut with the other hand. I move back far enough to gaze into his sapphire blue eyes, attempting to ignore the puffiness of his lids and the pink tear tracks down his cheeks, while I spill secrets that I’ve only ever told Drix.

“Honestly, I think I always kind of thought my mom was nasty to my dad. Not so much when I was little, but as we got older and went to other friends’ houses and saw how their parents interacted, it made me begin to question why my mom was so condescending with him. I couldn’t understand why she was always so mad at him. But those were obscure thoughts at first, never really concrete because I was a kid and what my friends were doing was still my main priority.” Holds eyes sadden, again, causing a twinge in my heart. It’s not lost on me that at the same time he began to seek his own company at his mother’s urging, is the time in my life where the presence of my friends was what made the difference, kept me grounded. The guilt rises up again, along with apprehension that I don’t deserve to have either Weston brother in my life. If I’d been stronger, Holden wouldn’t have been alone; if I’d been quicker, Drix wouldn’t be fighting for his life.

Shoving away the painful notion that I may lose them both one day, when they realize I’m not more, I focus on Holds, continuing my story of dear ol’ mom. “Anyway, I guess I was about fifteen when I absolutely couldn’t deny being gay, at least not to myself. I didn’t tell anyone, but I really wanted to talk to my dad.”

“You guys were really close, huh? You mention him a lot, and your face softens every time.”

I startle. “Do I? Huh, I… well, yeah. I could tell my dad anything. He really listened. When he asked how my day was, I knew he wanted to hear it. He’d stop doing whatever he had going on and focus on me. It was never like that with my mom, never. If she even bothered to ask me a question, I had to answer quickly, before she went on to tell me what she really wanted to talk about. It always involved my uncles and my cousins, or sometimes Jovany. She never expected me to go into law enforcement—no one did—but we all knew Jovany was going to. It’s all he ever wanted from when he was little and we’d play cops and robbers. He always had to be the cop.”

“Let me guess, your cousin, Lou, was the robber.”

Snorting, I nod my head. “How’d you guess? He always wanted to follow in his dad’s footsteps and be a cop, too. My dad and I used to kid around when we were alone that it was a good thing Cappi was born into a family of law enforcement or he probably would have ended up a criminal.” A smile tugs at Holds’s lips and I’m relieved. Talking about my family is kind of like telling a story about a bad soap opera so… “Guess who they always made me be?”

He tilts his head a bit; at the same time, Peanut lifts his head from Holds’s lap and tilts his head at me, too. Their expressions are so similar I bite back a laugh. “The getaway driver?”

After snorting, I say, “That would have been a step up. For as far back as I can remember, they always made me play the victim. Sometimes I only got robbed and shoved to the side, but most of the time, Cappi shot me.”

“There’s a shock.” Holds rolls his eyes, squeezing my side in support, understanding emanating from him that as much as I’m joking, I’m not. Those times were indicative of what was to come.

“So yeah, back to Mom.” I’m not ready to discuss all of my family dynamics, especially not my father’s arrest. No one but Drix has ever understood and… I don’t want pity from Holds; I want us to keep leaning on each other, being there for Drix together. “Anyway, Dad and I were super close, but when it came to important things, real life things, Dad always said we had to tell Mom and Jovany, too. Mom always accused him of not caring about family, but that wasn’t true. Our immediate family meant everything to him, and he pushed for us to share in our greatest moments—good or bad—together. I wasn’t sure if he’d be okay with me keeping my sexuality between us, so I didn’t tell anyone for a long, long time. But it was during that time I really began to see my mom clearly, for who she really was. I knew I couldn’t tell her I was gay; I knew she wouldn’t accept the truth, or me, if I pushed it. She wanted sons like her father and her brother. I knew she wouldn’t even try to understand. And based on how she treated my dad, I knew how cruel she could be. Sorry, I know that really isn’t as bad as what you went through, but...”

Holden lets me go to use both hands to gently set Peanut at his feet. I miss his touch instantly and sigh in relief when he scoots back close, tucking his whole body into mine and resting his head on my shoulder. “Don’t apologize, anymore. I’m thankful you really heard me when I told you about my mom and what happened, how alone I felt. But, Jameson, I really hear you, too. Yeah, you had friends to hang out with, but you were hiding a huge part of yourself. You no more had an opportunity at genuine support than I did. It sucked for both of us.”

Tilting my head to rest our foreheads together, I’m mesmerized by this man—overwhelmed by his empathy and compassion. As much as I don’t want to shatter this moment, my loyalty is to both Drix and Holds now, so I have to tell him a painful truth. “You know, since Drix and I formed a solid friendship at the beginning of the academy, it’s really only been us. Hendrix and Jameson against the world.”

“What do you mean?” he asks curiously, with no suspicion of where I’m going with this.

I clear my throat before continuing, “From what he told me, Drix had the full college experience, you know? He went to classes and stuff, drank too much, picked up girls, everything you’d expect of him.” Holds chuckles softly. “But once he came back home and moved back into your parents’ house full time, his only thoughts were about being a cop. He was focused. We both were.”

“I’m glad you had each other.”

The thing is, I know he means that. “Holds, we only had each other.”

He jerks his head back from me, asking, “What do you mean by that? Drix always had tons of friends. Surely others were coming back from college around the same time, or never went at all.”

“Holds, you aren’t the only one who changed after high school. Your life evolved and you found your place. I can’t say I blame you for not coming back. I just wish you and Drix had communicated better.”

“Jameson, what are you talking about?” Panic flashes across his face; it’s in the tone of his voice.

“Your parents’ deaths changed Drix, Holds. He wasn’t interested in being the life of the party, anymore. He didn’t want to entertain people, but at the same time, he couldn’t abide pitying glances or insincere sympathy. People around here… well, let’s just say they fit into one of those two categories. Drix used to say, ‘Fuck’em. I gotta ride or die best friend, and my brother will be home before I know it. You two are the only people I really need.’”

---