Page 64 of Burning Deceptions
He shook his head.
“Then I’m not mad.”
Luke smiled, but the faint gesture died swiftly. “I don’t remember this lie being so exhausting.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” He pulled my hands from his face but kept hold of them. “I mean, slightly your fault, but I’m not blaming you. This was my making; I’m just not sure how to get out of it.”
“Coming out isn’t an option?”
Luke huffed. “Honestly, they wouldn’t like it but being gay might not be the worst. My parents are all about image.Georgina is only the right woman because of who her parents are.”
“Right.” I nodded. “And I’m nothing to shake a stick at.”
“You are to me.”
“And still not enough.”
Luke dipped his chin without denying my words. A resounding confirmation if I ever heard one. He turned his back on me again, then leaned against the sink cabinet.
“What happened at that dinner?”
He stared at his shoes until I spun him around with a hand at his shoulder. He stumbled his ass onto the counter, half leaning and half sitting. I stepped between his spread feet, cupping his jaw with both hands and lifting his head until he looked at me.
“Hey,” I said, softer. “Tell me. What happened?”
Luke caught one of my hands in his. I thought he might push me away with it, but he brought it to his mouth and kissed my fingers.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered.
“For what?”
He closed his eyes. “I’m not right for you, Asher.”
My heart banged hard against my ribs, but I kept my composure and waited. Surely, this was stress. Surely, he’d talk himself in circles before he remembered how good we were.Don’t fuckin’ do this, Luke.
Warm breath fanned over my knuckles when he spoke again. “The dinner reminded me of it, reminded me I couldn’t do this, that Ishouldn’tdo this to you.”
“No. I don’t believe that. You meanI’mnot right foryou.” I yanked my hand out of his. “I’m too young. My family doesn’t have enough money. I’ve got a dick instead of a cunt. Don’t be a fuckin’ martyr. Tell me the truth. It’s me.”
Luke straightened, and I backed up a step. “No, it’s me, goddammit. I’m weak. You deserve more.”
I shook my head.
“I lack the courage to be with you.” He reached out and gripped my face so suddenly, I startled. “You’re young and beautiful. You need a long life with someone who will proudly show you off. I’m quicksand. My family drags me down every day, and I won’t take you with me.”
“Don’t say that,” I whispered, still shaking my head. “I said I would hide with you. I agreed, remember, because you’re worth trying for. If you can get over our differences, then don’t tell me I can’t because I can.”
He pressed his forehead to mine and backed me up another step. “Why? I’m fifteen years older. I’m closeted. I’m a stuffed shirt.”
I fisted his lapel, crinkling it to hell and back, but I wasn’t going to let him push me away. “No. Don’t do that. That’s the sort of bullshit that doesn’t matter.” I placed my palm flat over his heart, then my own. “You and me, we’ve got something. I know you feel it. We had fuckin’ movie sparks the first time we met. That’s what matters.”
“You think so? That’s enough?”
I reared back. “Enough?” Fuck his parents. How could I make him see?
He silently begged with wet eyes to give him something, a lifeline, a vine to grasp, to pull himself out of the darkness.
