Page 8 of Rebel

“Ah, damn it all to the devil!”

It was clear Hutch wanted him. His panic proved it if nothing else. But it was equally clear that Hutch didn’twantto want him, that he was afraid of his own desires. His father’s poison had dripped into his ear, and now he considered himself a sinner, an abomination in the eyes of the Lord, condemned to burn in hell for his God-given nature.

Bullshit and lies!

Nate felt a flash of old rage, had to wipe angry tears from his eyes. He had no patience for heaven or hell, or any other manmade terror. If God had created the world, then He’d created men like him and Hutch, and He certainly didn’t care to what use they put their bodies—or how they expressed their affection for each other.

And he did feel affection for Hutch, a great deal of affection. No doubt more than was wise. He was almost certain Sam felt the same, but now hope and friendship were turned to dust because the world called their affection sin. And Hutch, it seemed, agreed—the hidebound orthodoxist that he was.

It wasn’t fair. It damn well wasn’t. And it hurt like the devil, a clenching fist around his heart. But alongside that unfamiliar ache ran a dreadfully familiar fear. Because if Hutch took it into his head to speak to Reed…?

But, no, he wouldn’t. Hutch might loathe his own nature, he might decide to loathe Nate, but he wouldn’t throw a friend to the wolves—not even a former friend.

He was too good a man for that, too principled and steadfast.

At least, Nate would have to hope so, because his future—perhaps his life—now depended on Samuel Hutchinson’s loyalty.

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