Page 64 of Beautiful Disaster

“You’re going to tell me more about Jude. I don’t wanna talk anymore about myself until you do. It’s starting to feel one-sided.”

Fuck. I tried to delay the inevitable, not wanting him to believe that I’d turn my back on him as I did with Jude. Jinx also deserves to know.

So be it.

Chapter 18

Mason

“You told me your story, so it’s only fair that I tell you mine. It’s nowhere near as tragic, but it did change me. And him.”

Jinx’s fingers dig gently into my chest. “This is about Jude dying, right?”

“It was my fault.”

“Wait. Hold up. You didn’t…” He pulls away from me, but I drag him back.

“No, Jinx. I didn’t murder him, if that’s what you’re implying. It was… an accident, but my fault nonetheless.”

“So what happened?”

“My parents were visiting my apartment back in New York. They’d moved out of the city a year before, so they wanted to see me. I was at work, and Mom was doing her thing, cleaning my place, being her usual busy-body self, even when I told her not to. She always had to be involved in everything. She was very… traditional, I guess you could say. Clear, definitive, old-fashioned roles between men and women…”

“Let me guess… She found out you were dating a man?”

I nod and pull him closer to me. He rests his leg over my thigh and continues to play with my chest hair. It’s relaxing when my mind starts waging war with itself. I haven’t told anyone my story other than my therapist, so my brain wants me to shut up. I have to force myself to continue. If Jinx can do it, so can I.

“It’s more than that, but yes.” I roll onto my back and tuck a hand under my head. Jinx rests on my shoulder, facing me, but I can’t look at him. “My apartment had three bedrooms. It was a big deal. I could finally afford a place that wasn’t a tiny studio. It wasn’t the nicest, but it was big. I kept one bedroom as my office and a place where… Jude and I would have our sessions. That was where I kept our toys and such…” I run a hand through my hair as my stomach turns. I have a love-hate relationship with the memories of Jude. “The door was locked. Nothing fancy. Just locked from the inside. It was easy to open, and Mom wanted to know why it was locked, so she broke in. I told them to stay out. It was for work and private, but… she was fucking nosy.”

“That’s not nice. Why couldn’t she respect your boundaries? It sucks because I never had privacy growing up. Ever.”

I huff a laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “She was… controlling, certainly, but she was a good mom. My parents only wanted what was best for me and to have me do well in life, something they struggled to achieve. Typical of immigrant parents. I did everything I was told for the most part. But I had a private life they weren’t a part of, and I wanted to keep it that way. They would never accept me being gay or respect my sexual proclivities. They weren’t hateful people, but they had a clear path for me, and I shouldn’t deviate. Immigrant guilt is a real thing. My parents were also devout Catholics, so there’s that. I was fine with my life separate from theirs—until they discovered it.”

“I guess they weren’t too happy.”

A bitter laugh escapes me. “Understatement. They were shocked. Furious. I remember coming home to find all the objects and toys I used on Jude laid out on the kitchen table, my parents staring at them. I felt like… Have you ever had one of those dreams where you go to school in your underwear?”

“Can’t say I have. I’ve never been to school, but I get what you mean.”

“Well, that’s how I felt. Raw and exposed. Humiliated. And in the middle of all that was a framed picture of Jude and me. I felt betrayed. Angry. But I was also afraid.”

I roll back over to face Jinx and press my nose into his hair, inhaling his scent, smelling so much like me. Soon, I get lost in a place I’ve avoided for years.

Mom waves a hand over the objects on the table, her face a combination of confusion and anger, her dark brown eyes watering. “What is this?” she asks in Italian.

My mind is a jumble, trying to come up with lies, but I’m drawing a blank. I don’t have answers she’ll understand.

My stomach turns, and I feel like I’m going to be sick. I know there’s nothing wrong with being a Dom or loving a man. I’m thirty-one, for fuck’s sake. But they won’t see it that way. I shouldn’t feel guilty, but I do.

“I told you to stay out of there.” That’s all I can say. I can’t explain what a spreader, a flogger, or a humbler is. They’re things that Jude picked out for himself. He loves them. Despite my words, it’s clear they’re sexual.

“Deviant!” Mom hisses.

Dad has been quiet since I walked in, refusing to look at me. I’m not sure which is worse.

“You didn’t belong in there, Mama!” I snap back. “This is my space!” I yell in Italian since they don’t speak English well. The guilt hits me even harder because I never yell back at my parents. They worked so hard to help me succeed. They sacrificed so much. My childhood was loving, too.

“And who is this?”