Page 82 of Shades of Henry
It was difficult to swallow, but Lance managed. “Good,” he said. “We’ll get to that. So, is it wrong, me and Henry, trying to help these guys out?”
“No,” Stevenson said, unequivocally. “Don’t let them become codependent on you. Don’t get in their way of growth. But if they need to know someone’s there to care for them, and you two, you decide you’re their people, that works. You brought Randy here when you realized he needed more than you, right?”
“Yeah,” Lance said. “And there’s at least one more guy we need to bring in, but he’s closer to Henry, so I’ll let him do it.” Lance growled. “Which brings me to my second question. The one that’s driving me batshit and I need it answered before I can concentrate on myself.”
“Go for it. I’m going to need a couple of weeks to unpack this conversation anyway.”
Lance gave him a one-sided smile, because he realized he wasn’t being easy.
“So Henry’s parting gift from this psycho who kept him in the closet was being forced.”
“Raped?” Stevenson qualified delicately, and Lance looked at him, actually met his eyes, so the guy could see how serious he was being.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “And sometimes, when he’s talking, shit just slips out. Shit like ‘Yeah, Malachi sliced my shirt right off my body once, to keep me from leaving the hotel room.’ Or, ‘Gee, I hope my sister’s okay.’ And when he showed up here—his brother works at Johnnies—he looked like hell. His dad had pretty much beat the crap out of him, and Henry’s not a small guy. He let it happen. And I’mworried,” Lance burst out, so relieved he almost cried. “He kisses me in public now. He smiles. He cracks jokes. He’s still sort of a grumpy asshole, but that works for him. And I’m like, ‘Okay, when’s this going to come out?’ I can control my eating, or if I can’t,nowI know that there is a headspace and some hard work that will let me do it. I have faith that will work. But I can’t control when all of this is going to burst out of Henry, and I don’t know how bad it’s going to be.”
“Oh. Well. Just when you think you’ve heard it all….”
“What?” Lance demanded.
“You are reasonably functional. I’d like to see you get the bulimia under control. I’d really like to see you gain ten pounds, even if it’s muscle. But yeah, you’re right to be worried. Your boyfriend sounds functional too, but that’s some baggage he’s carrying around.” He shook his head, his fingers moving of their own volition in wool that was a military-green color. “Does he seem to be violent?”
Lance thought about Henry, being kind to Summer Frasier when she’d had the gun.
And then he saw him body slam Martin Sampson into a full dumpster.
“When he’s protecting us,” he said after a moment. “And not… not to extreme. He doesn’t beat people to a pulp—he gets them out of the way. He doesn’t yell at people. He talks them down from the ledge.”
“So… so there may come a day when some of this gets out,” Stevenson said softly. “And he’s going to need someone to talkhimdown.”
Lance nodded. “Yeah. That’s what I was asking.” He blew out a breath and flopped onto the very comfortable couch. “So I just need to be ready.”
“Yeah. He’s got a sense of freedom, from what you’ve said. Out of the military, out of this relationship—he’s not going to see he’s keeping himself in his own prison until something reminds him.”
Lance shook his head. “He’s a really good guy,” he said. “I… we talked last night, and I could see our entire lives unfolding. Like this was the guy I’d been waiting to fall in love with since I was twelve years old.”
“There’s nothing wrong with falling for a guy with baggage,” Stevenson said softly. “It sounds like you’re ready to work with him to lighten the load.”
“I am,” Lance said, his eyes burning a little.
“Now what can we do to help lightenyourload? Without sticking your fingers down your throat, of course.”
God. Lance felt wrung out already. But he also knew he’d trespassed on the doctor’s good will enough. “Okay, so, let me tell you the sad story of a fat little kid named Galahad, and how everyday his father said, ‘What a little chunk! Are we skipping dessert tonight, Gally? I think that would be best.’ And I’d leave the dinner table hungry so I could stop being fat little Gally.”
“I’m riveted,” Stevenson said, and Lance looked at him in surprise, because he seemed to have lost his sarcastic edge. “No, truly,” the doctor told him, apparently in all sincerity. “Because that’s a real story about you, and now we’re getting somewhere.”
Lance swallowed. “God,” he muttered. “I knew this was going to suck.”
“Had it all figured out, did you?”
“Yeah.” He swallowed again and was about to wipe his eyes on his shirt, but then Stevenson used a knitting needle to point out the box of Kleenex right next to him. He grabbed a couple and wiped his eyes.
“Didn’t count on the pain?”
“I’m a doctor,” Lance lamented. “I should know better.”
“Oh, sweet, sweet naïve little porn star. Nobody ever does.”
And then they really got to work.
