Page 43 of Mr. Frosty Pants
“Between that time and the last time he hit me when I was twelve, he taught me some other stuff, too. Men don’t give their neighbors reason to gossip, men don’t make scenes, and men don’t suck dicks. Unless they’re rich, connected, famous dicks, apparently. But that part didn’t become clear to me until college and Theo.”
“Fuck him.” Joel was flooded with cold. That wasn’t how it was supposed to be for Casey. His dad was a prissy little shit, but he’d never thought Casey’s father hurt him. Now he wanted to find the man and punch him into the ground, punch him until he begged. Punch him and punch him. Never stop.
“Yeah. After I turned twelve he never belted me again. I’m not sure why. But even after he stopped, whenever he’d give me a look or talk to me in an angry voice, it was like I’d been hit with the belt all over again.”
“Shit. I didn’t know.” Joel reached out his hand farther, wriggling his fingers, begging for Casey to take hold. He exhaled in relief when Casey did.
Casey squeezed his fingers gently, his eyes sad but firm. “I’m only telling you because you should know that I get it. I mean, it’s different because I guess spanking, with a belt or hand, is more socially acceptable than a punch. But it affected me. I never trusted that I was safe until I was away from him in New York.”
“But you’re in his house right now.” Joel would have to seriously hurt Jonathan Stevens if he ever laid a hand on Casey again. Ever. His whole body burned with rage at the thought.
“He won’t touch me.” Casey shook his head. “I’m big enough to fight back. I think that’s why he stopped, honestly. And my therapist is helping me cope with the past and the way I react to him. I’m getting better at standing up for myself.”
“I’m glad. That’s…that’s good.” Joel pulled his hand free of Casey’s and ran it through his hair. The intense, scary feeling that had consumed him on the ice swelled again. It had a different feel to it, though. Something ugly.
“So, I get it,” Casey went on. “The things we did and said back then as kids—and maybe even now—are partly because of what we lived with and where we came from.Whowe came from. All of that stuff matters more than we want to admit sometimes.” Casey reached his hand across again, wordlessly asking for Joel’s touch.
Joel swallowed and blinked hard to get rid of the stinging in his eyes. He took a deep breath and slipped his hand back into Casey’s, wanting to comfort as much as he wanted to ground himself with Casey’s touch. “I can’t make peace with my pop. Since the stroke, he’s worse than ever. If he was physically capable of it, he’d still beat me up.”
“I’m sorry.”
“I don’t think I’ll ever get my peace with him. At least you can hope for that still with your dad.” Did Joel even want Casey to have that, though? He didn’t know anymore.
“Maybe. He’s not too impressed with my life choices right now, and I don’t know if he ever will be.” Casey’s voice dropped lower, and his lips started to tremble. Joel’s heart clenched as Casey’s eyes took on a previously unseen vulnerability. “But if he doesn’t want to accept me as I am, and for who I’m going to be, then I guess it’s better than pretending to be someone I’m not for some version of love that isn’t even real.”
Joel’s whole body sang with an urge to protect and hold Casey, to heal him from the past and support him in the future. He said, gruffly, “Love. Yeah. What’s that like, I wonder?”
“To be loved?”
Joel shrugged, forcing his gaze to fall to the skaters on the ice below. “I don’t think my father ever loved me. My mom, Charlie loved, but me? I don’t know. I was an inconvenience at best.”
“It was always tense at your place,” Casey said gently, and now he sounded the way Joel felt. Like he wanted to bundle him up and never let the past touch him again. “At least whenever I was there and your dad was around, it seemed really tense.”
“That’s because my dad knew how I felt about you.” Joel met Casey’s gaze again, his nerves jangling. “He knew it was you more than anyone else.”
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t felt… I don’t feel…” Joel shook his head, searching for the words. “Becca says I’m demisexual, whatever that means.” He rolled his eyes.
Casey nodded, squeezing his hand again. “I know about that. It means you’re only sexually attracted to people you know well or have developed strong feelings for.”
“I guess. That’s what Becca thinks. I just know that I don’t walk around wanting to fuck people. The only person I’ve ever wanted was—” He cut off the words.
“Was me?”
“Yeah.” Joel exhaled slowly, his heart racing. Why hadn’t he had a beer too? It would take the edge off this confession and all this emotion at least. “Not that I can’t ever want someone else, I guess. I always thought I would eventually. One day. I hoped I’d meet someone, you know.” He shrugged, pulse pounding. “But it was always you. And my dad knew.”
Insane that he was trying to get the topic back to his least favorite subject in the world—his dad—rather than have to continue admitting to Casey how important he was to him, how singular.
“Is that why you always wanted me gone by the time he came home?”
Joel smiled grimly. “And the others too. RJ doesn’t read as gay, but he was loud about it sometimes, and, like I said, my dad thought Becca was my girlfriend. The last thing I wanted was for him to hear the way she talked about girls. You? You were my temptation to be avoided. But I couldn’t avoid you. You just kept coming around.”
“You’re not so hard underneath it all,” Casey whispered. “You’re really soft.”
“Great.” Joel pulled his hand away. “Open up a little and suddenly I’m a pansy.”
“I didn’t say that. I’m grateful you trust me enough to tell me things after everything.”
