Page 98 of Out of the Storm

Jeff’s stomach sank when he heard Gary’s voice falter. If the conversation with his mom had been that horrible, why hadn’t Gary called? Why had he pushed to host the show? Jesus Christ, Jeff would have happily hosted for him, even though he knew nothing about being a radio personality. He’d have read the news and played shitty music and tried to sound enthusiastic about the silly flea market. He’d have supported him however he could.

Fuck.

Even though it was too late to help with the show now, Jeff still wanted to show Gary that he was here for him. He had to comfort him somehow.

While Jeff was shoving his legs into a pair of exercise shorts, ready to start on his way over to Gary’s place, the phone rang.

He picked up the receiver.

“Hey, Gare.”

Don’s voice came through the earpiece. “Hey, sweetheart.”

Panic hit Jeff like a semi, the force of fear temporarily whiting out his vision, and Jeff had to reach out a hand to steady himself against the desk.

“Uh . . .”

Why couldn’t he manage to tell Don to fuck off?

“I love that I can still make you speechless,” Don said with a laugh, sounding so much like the man Jeff had fallen for all those years ago. With a trembling hand, Jeff took the receiver away from his face. He moved to hang it up when he heard Don say, “Don’t you want to talk to me, sweetness?”

After a moment of hesitation, he brought the phone back to his ear.

“Don, I’m . . . with someone else.”

“Gary Graham.Verycute,” Don said. “I’m happy for you. Truly.”

Fucking liar.

“But”—ah, there it was, the manipulation—“seeing you the other night made me realize how much I miss you. It took a bit of work to find you. I wasn’t sure where you’d moved to before I realized you were with Gary. Look at you, all the way out in Niles while I’m still in our old place. You should come over sometime. Or, better yet, come to O’Henry’s tonight. Have some beer with me.”

“I-I’m not . . . interested.”

Though Jeff had intended to sound firm, his strained, stammering words sounded so incredibly weak. And then, all of a sudden, Jeff was back in that bedroom on that night over three years ago, telling Don to leave him be.

“Don’t you want me to fuck you tonight, sweetheart?”

“After you treated me like shit when we were out? No, I’m fine.”

Don’s hand clutching Jeff’s wrist. His other hand . . .

“Why would you keep this beautiful ass to yourself?”

Jeff taking a step back.

“Jesus Christ, how much have you had to drink?”

“Not much more than you.”

“Bullshit. I had two beers.”

Don’s possessive hands on his waist.

“Come here, love. I haven’t fucked you in a while.”

Jeff twisting away.

“Stop.”

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