Page 34 of Pages of My Heart
Robert Miller is dead.
His bastard of a father is fucking dead.
Charlie has seen all he needs to. He grabs Thomas’s hand and they run down the alley, only letting go as they reach the main road, where they slow to a brisk walk.
An hour after the funeral, Charlie is in his old bedroom with Thomas. Even though he doesn’t expect anyone to return for many hours, he’s bolted the door. He’s not sure why he’s done it, because if anyone were to arrive home and discover the locked bedroom door with Thomas inside, it would undoubtedly appear suspicious. Maybe he hopes it will keep the ghost of his father out.
They lie on his old single bed, Charlie’s head resting on Thomas’s chest. Few words have been spoken, but none are needed. The police haven’t found the men that murdered his father and he’s fine with that. More importantly, neither he nor Thomas have been implicated in the crime.
Thomas keeps him calm by repeatedly stroking a hand through his hair, the rhythm and tenderness sending him backto his early childhood, a time when he felt cherished. Occasionally, Thomas presses his lips to Charlie’s forehead or squeezes him a little tighter.
As the sun sets and the room darkens, Charlie whispers, “Thank you.”
“For what?”
He lifts himself, propping his forearm on Thomas’s chest so he can look at his face. “For stopping me from being the one to end that old bastard’s miserable life. Was it hard for you to do that?”
“To stop you? No. To stop myself?” He brushes back a lock of hair that has fallen over Charlie’s forehead. “That was the hardest damn thing I’ve ever had to do.”
Charlie kisses Thomas with all the tenderness he can muster. They will never be completely free to love each other, but they are freer now than when Robert Miller walked the earth. And for that, he is thankful.
“I love you, sweetheart.”
“I love you too, my darling.”
Chapter 21
August 1940
Thomas
Thomas keeps a keen eye on the entrance to the diner as he stacks dirty plates and half-empty glasses into his bus tub. Charlie is due to arrive so they can have dinner together during his break, and he has something exciting to share. Even though his co-workers know Charlie is his friend, they keep visits at the diner to a minimum—only every couple of months—and pretend it’s a coincidence that Charlie drops in while Thomas is working.
A month has passed since Robert Miller’s funeral and Thomas is glad Charlie seems to be doing well, although they’ve never really spoken about it in depth. In time, he hopes Charlie will open up to him, especially about what he did that day, kissing him in front of his father. Thomas still feels a little panicky whenever he thinks about it. What if Robert hadn’t died?
Thomas has had nightmares about that day too. In some, Charlie strangles Robert until the life drains out of him. In others, Thomas does it himself. A huge part of him wanted to take Robert’s life that day, but he’s grateful his self-control prevailed. Because although he knows Charlie wanted Robertdead, Robert was still his father, and that’s a complicated thing. Thomas knows only too well, his feelings for his own father full of ambiguity and contradiction.
The bell on the diner door jingles and Thomas looks up from the table he’s cleaning. He’s powerless to stop the smile that spreads across his face. They have been together almost three years now, yet Charlie still makes his heart race every time he sets eyes upon him. Charlie plays the game, keeping his eyes down as he shrugs off his jacket, but there is a rosy flush to his cheeks. Thomas loves the way Charlie still blushes for him.
Walking over to greet him, he tries to affect a casual tone. “Evening, Charles. What brings you in tonight? We haven’t seen you around in a while.”
“Oh, hey there, Thomas. Thought I’d grab myself some grub on my way home from work. How ya been?” He extends his hand and they shake.
“I’m great! Just graduated from college a few months back.” He glances toward the counter where one of the new waitresses is watching them with undisguised interest. “Look, uh, I’m about to go on my dinner break. Would you like some company? You can catch me up on all your news.”
“Sounds great. Can I take any available booth?”
“Of course, take your pick. Do you know what you want? I can put your order in with mine.”
“Surprise me,” Charlie says with a wink that brings heat rushing to Thomas’s skin. Three years in and Charlie is still making him blush too.
Thomas cleans a few more tables while he waits for their food and then joins Charlie in the corner booth he’s chosen, farthest from the kitchen where the staff congregate. They dig into their meatloaf and mash, legs pressed together under the table.
“I have news,” Thomas blurts out after only a few bites, unable to keep it in any longer.
Charlie stops eating, fork midway to his mouth, eyebrows raised in question.
“I got offered a teaching position at St. Patrick’s.”
