Donal replied. “A bit of a fuck-up, but he’s worked hard to be back on his feet. He’s had a rough time of it from the start.”
“I couldn’t fix him, Da. And we tried.” Connor shook his head at the years of frustration he’d had with Rafe in his life. “But he was the first, I think. The first time I wondered, but then I put it all away. I couldn’t… think on that. There were women—and I love women. I love the way they smell and feel on me and how their skin tastes on my tongue, but there’s been times when I’ve wondered—when I’ve thought about how it would be.”
“Lately?” his father asked. “Before yer Forest? Or just about him?”
“About Miki—but just for about a second, Da,” he confessed, shunting his gaze away from his father to stare at the opposite wall where their lives played out in framed photos. “I wondered how it would be with him—just for a few moments when Kane introduced him. Something about him kicked me in the gut, and I had to take a step back. I’d never touch him—he’s Kane’s—but it was there. That wildness about him. I could see why Kane wanted him, and I’d never had that before—that recognition of why a man would touch some part of me.”
“And now Forest.” Donal sighed and rubbed at Connor’s head once more before sliding his hand down his son’s back to pat at his shoulders. “Ye can’t let him go, then? Do ye even want to?”
“He haunts me, Da. Worse than a sunburn I cannot wait to heal but at the same time tightens my skin so I can’t not feel him. I see him, and I want to touch him, to hold him, because I don’t think he’s been held enough or been told someone cares about him. He’s had a shite hippie who took him in off the streets and who probably loved him but didn’t give him any kind of self.” Connor pulled himself away from the wall of family and friends. “He’s not had any of this, and I want to give it to him. I want to lie in bed with him when it rains and listen to the water hit the roof. I find myself wondering how the coffee foam on his lip would taste on my tongue or if I could make him smile by blowing a raspberry on his belly. It’s not just want, Da. It’s need . I need him. And for the life of me, I fucking don’t know what to do with that. I wanted to be like you, Da. And I don’t know—”
“All I want is for ye to be Connor,” Donal cut in and looped his arm around Connor’s shoulders, giving him a quick squeeze. “Ye don’t need to be me. I don’t want ye to be me. I want ye to be the best Connor ye can be. That’s the man I raised, not this Ken doll ye’ve built around yerself.”
“And if that means I want to be with a man? Then what?”
“Then ye’re with a man.” He shrugged. “What difference does it make who ye love so long as ye love? That’s what I told yer brothers. That’s what I’m telling ye. Are ye telling me they’re less of a man than ye because they love who they love?”
“No, I’d fucking kick anyone’s ass who said so,” Connor spat back.
“Then why aren’t ye letting yerself have as much of that right to happiness as they do? Why won’t ye fight for yerself as much as ye’d fight for yer brothers?”
Connor sat, silent and stunned. He’d die for any of his siblings, but he was especially close to Kane and Quinn. Hell, his knuckles still bore scars from being bashed into bullies’ teeth for taunting Quinn during school. His awkward, brilliant young brother deserved to smile every day. He’d just never really thought he deserved that same pleasure.
The revelation—such a small tidbit of truth—took Connor’s breath away.
“Is he gay?” Donal patted his son’s back and reached for the abandoned whiskey bottle. After taking a swig, he handed it to Connor. “Does he know you feel this way?”
“Yeah, he’s gay.” Connor took the bottle from his father when it was offered and took a mouthful, knowing he’d fit on the couch or one of the
“I couldn’t fix him, Da. And we tried.” Connor shook his head at the years of frustration he’d had with Rafe in his life. “But he was the first, I think. The first time I wondered, but then I put it all away. I couldn’t… think on that. There were women—and I love women. I love the way they smell and feel on me and how their skin tastes on my tongue, but there’s been times when I’ve wondered—when I’ve thought about how it would be.”
“Lately?” his father asked. “Before yer Forest? Or just about him?”
“About Miki—but just for about a second, Da,” he confessed, shunting his gaze away from his father to stare at the opposite wall where their lives played out in framed photos. “I wondered how it would be with him—just for a few moments when Kane introduced him. Something about him kicked me in the gut, and I had to take a step back. I’d never touch him—he’s Kane’s—but it was there. That wildness about him. I could see why Kane wanted him, and I’d never had that before—that recognition of why a man would touch some part of me.”
“And now Forest.” Donal sighed and rubbed at Connor’s head once more before sliding his hand down his son’s back to pat at his shoulders. “Ye can’t let him go, then? Do ye even want to?”
“He haunts me, Da. Worse than a sunburn I cannot wait to heal but at the same time tightens my skin so I can’t not feel him. I see him, and I want to touch him, to hold him, because I don’t think he’s been held enough or been told someone cares about him. He’s had a shite hippie who took him in off the streets and who probably loved him but didn’t give him any kind of self.” Connor pulled himself away from the wall of family and friends. “He’s not had any of this, and I want to give it to him. I want to lie in bed with him when it rains and listen to the water hit the roof. I find myself wondering how the coffee foam on his lip would taste on my tongue or if I could make him smile by blowing a raspberry on his belly. It’s not just want, Da. It’s need . I need him. And for the life of me, I fucking don’t know what to do with that. I wanted to be like you, Da. And I don’t know—”
“All I want is for ye to be Connor,” Donal cut in and looped his arm around Connor’s shoulders, giving him a quick squeeze. “Ye don’t need to be me. I don’t want ye to be me. I want ye to be the best Connor ye can be. That’s the man I raised, not this Ken doll ye’ve built around yerself.”
“And if that means I want to be with a man? Then what?”
“Then ye’re with a man.” He shrugged. “What difference does it make who ye love so long as ye love? That’s what I told yer brothers. That’s what I’m telling ye. Are ye telling me they’re less of a man than ye because they love who they love?”
“No, I’d fucking kick anyone’s ass who said so,” Connor spat back.
“Then why aren’t ye letting yerself have as much of that right to happiness as they do? Why won’t ye fight for yerself as much as ye’d fight for yer brothers?”
Connor sat, silent and stunned. He’d die for any of his siblings, but he was especially close to Kane and Quinn. Hell, his knuckles still bore scars from being bashed into bullies’ teeth for taunting Quinn during school. His awkward, brilliant young brother deserved to smile every day. He’d just never really thought he deserved that same pleasure.
The revelation—such a small tidbit of truth—took Connor’s breath away.
“Is he gay?” Donal patted his son’s back and reached for the abandoned whiskey bottle. After taking a swig, he handed it to Connor. “Does he know you feel this way?”
“Yeah, he’s gay.” Connor took the bottle from his father when it was offered and took a mouthful, knowing he’d fit on the couch or one of the
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