Page 137 of Matlock
Instead, it made me want to vomit.
They don’t understand. They don’t know what it’s like. They don’t know what I’ve lost. What I could still lose.
Grace appeared beside King, her hand resting on herrounded belly, her eyes sharp and unforgiving. “We love you, Matlock. Both of you. And we’re not going anywhere, so you can stop your bullshit right now.”
My hand tightened on Simon’s back. I could feel him shaking, or maybe that was me. Maybe we were both shaking.
Violent tremors running through my entire body.
“You knew,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper. “You all fucking knew.”
“Yeah,” King said. “We gave you plenty of time to come clean. I’m kind of pissed it took so fucking long. Even more pissed you thought you couldn’t trust us. That you thought so fucking little of us you couldn’t be yourself.”
I’d spent six years hiding the man I loved. Six years keeping him in the shadows, meeting him in secret, refusing to claim him publicly because I was too terrified of what might happen if I did.
Julia died because of me. Because I’m gay. Because she tried to protect me.
And I’ve been punishing Simon for it ever since.
Something broke inside me, something raw and vulnerable and absolutely fucking terrified. My forehead dropped to Simon’s shoulder, my breath coming in harsh, ragged gasps against his neck.
I can’t do this. I can’t—
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, so quiet only Simon could hear. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
For hiding you. For making you feel like you weren’t enough. For being a fucking hypocrite.
Simon’s arms wrapped around me, holding me as tightly as I was holding him. “It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay.”
It’s not okay. None of this is okay.
The diner was still silent, everyone watching, but I didn’t give a fuck anymore.
Let them watch.
Let them see.
Let them know that Simon is mine and I’m his and I’m donehiding.
“Well,” Beatrice’s voice rang out from her table, breaking the silence. “It’s about damn time someone in this town had the balls to be honest.”
A few people laughed nervously, uncertain, but genuine.
I lifted my head, my expression raw and exposed. I looked around the diner, taking in the faces watching us. Some were smiling. Some looked uncomfortable. But no one looked hostile.
No one’s running. No one’s threatening us. No one’s...
“I—” I started, then stopped, my throat working.
Say it. Just fucking say it.
“Simon and I...” I looked into his eyes.
Are together. Are in love. Have been for six years.
“Are together,” King finished for me, his hand clasping me on the shoulder, his voice brooking no argument. “And anyone who has a fucking problem with that can take it up with the club. With all of us. And trust me, motherfuckers, you don’t want that.”
The threat in his voice was unmistakable. Dangerous. Real.
