Page 10 of The Truth of Our Past

Alec lets out a laugh, but it isn’t genuine. “How could I not want to help queer youth? The fundraiser will be filled with hot, rich guys. My dream.” He winks, and his dimples almost make me forget he hasn’t given me an honest answer.

“Tell me,” I demand, surprised to see a flicker of attraction in Alec’s eyes.

“You don’t want to know,” he says hesitantly.

“I do.” I am desperate to make up for my terrible behavior and place a hand on his forearm, goose bumps erupt.

I don’t think he is going to answer me, but after a long silence, he says, “I wasn’t there, but Cole said the kid was gay and looked homeless. When Cole asked me to volunteer with him, he was in a horrible place because he thought he’d fucked things up permanently with Shane. Cole needed the distraction, and I wanted to help him.”

Alec’s attention is directed at the TV instead of me. “I met the kid who’d come into Unframed Art and assumed he reminded Cole”––he inhales deeply––“of me.”

Subconsciously, I’ve moved in between his legs and squeezed his thigh before I notice we are too close. He doesn’t meet my gaze and my hands drop away from his arm and thigh. I let the heaviness of the moment sit between us, honored that he willingly told me the story.

My belief his carefree personality hides deeper issues is correct. I’m torn between walking away and getting closer. My life is complicated and walking away is the smart choice.

I assume he’s finished talking, but he continues.

“Cole and I bonded over our shitty parents. He helped me when I was desperate, and I hope to pay that forward.”

Finally, his eyes meet my gaze and his shoulders drop.

“Your idea is going to make a difference for a lot of kids.” There is so much more to uncover about Alec. He masks a good heart behind his appearance and loud mouth. I greedily want more of him.

“So tell me more about your charity.” His soulful brown eyes wait for my answer. I feel guilty about the success of a charity with such a small impact and my inability to contribute to their worthy cause in a meaningful way. I have never felt so inept.

“It is not as important as yours,” I admit.

“But you must’ve seen a need and wanted to help with something. I’m surprised it’s not environmental. Give me the basics.” He nudges me and I cannot say no.

“Fotbollis huge in my town.” My lips turn up to hide my embarrassment. “You call it soccer. Unfortunately, kids were getting minor injuries playing on poorly maintained fields. I raised money for a new field and it caught the attention of a big corporation. Soon, we were repairing and constructing new fields for youthfotbollall over.”

“And you asked professional athletes to help?” he prods.

I nod and he makes a hand motion for me to continue. Although I like Alec, I’m not discussing my past, so I give him basic facts. “Yes. I met Madyson and Jayce through my friend Lars, a New York Enforcer’s hockey player.”

He reaches for me and I expect him to shake the actual explanation out of me, but a twink slides up next to us as if I’m not there.

The twink wraps his arm around his biceps. “Hey, Alec,” he purrs, “long time no see.”

Fighting the impulse to rip the man’s hand off Alec is harder than it should be.

“Hey,” Alec responds without his flirty smile, appearing annoyed.

Instead of giving the man his attention, Alec’s eyes are on me and that subdues my hot spike of jealousy. The thought of Alec with this man turns my stomach. Alec’s dimples appear, but they are for me, not the man clinging to him.

He tugs Alec’s arm, and Alec spares him a glance. “Sorry, I’m in the middle of something.”

The twink pouts and says coyly, “Come find me when you’re done. I’ll make it worth your while.” He smirks at me and struts away.

“See ya, darlin’.” Alec gives him a chin nod.

The term of endearment coats my throat in metaphorical acid when I speak. “Is he your type?” I can’t keep the irrational accusation out of my voice. My behavior has been unforgiveable, and he doesn’t owe me any explanation. I have no claim on Alec. Who he sleeps with is none of my business.

The part of me dying for any sort of human connection insists I could make it my business.

Alec stares at me, radiating disapproval. I’m determined not to break eye contact and not to speak first. It’s a herculean effort.

I drop my head, knowing I have been anarsleagain, and swear.

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