Page 43 of Every November

He tries to keep his tone light, but I hear his heartbeat quicken under my ear when he shares his reality. “I’m sorry your family doesn’t support you. That sounds so lonely and hard.”

He lets out a deep sigh. “It is what it is.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not hard,” I reiterate, thinking about my mom pouring coffee for me, about Claire’s paper turkey for me to bring back to Seattle, about how easy it’s always been to love and be loved by the people who made me. “You deserve so much better from the people who raised you.”

I’ve spent this whole summer wanting to know Marcus better, and now that I finally do, some part of me wishes I hadn’t asked. Not because I don't want to know him—I do, more than anything—but because knowing him now means knowing exactly what he goes home to, and I hate it. I hate that he’s built his whole life around getting away from people who should love him. I wish I could fix it somehow. I wish that I could bring him to my parents’ tomorrow, hand him a plate, and let him see what a loving family is supposed to look like.

“Yeah,” he nearly whispers. “What about your family?”

“Not to rub it in, but my family is basically the opposite. My parents are supportive, my brother is a good guy and his kids are amazing, but I still left too.”

“I had a feeling your family was good. You’ve got that whole ‘grew up loved’ thing about you.” He pauses for a moment. “Why’d you leave, then?”

“I knew there was more for me and that more wasn’t in Bloomington. I wanted to work for an outdoor gear company and be surrounded by nature. So I figured why not try? And it’s been everything I wanted. I don’t think I’ll ever leave.” I pause, realizing what I just said. “Not unless I have a very compelling reason.” Like him.

“Is it hard, though, since you actually miss your family?”

“Yeah, sometimes. When I see how much Claire and Tommy have grown, or when my parents hug me like they’ll never see me again. But then I go back to Seattle, and I remember why I left. I love my life there, I really do. Seattle has given me the space to be myself and figure out who I am, and I love who I am.”

“I’m happy for you,” Marcus says quietly, and all I can imagine is that he wishes he felt that way too. “Really.”

“Do you ever think about leaving Chicago?” I ask, putting out a feeler.

“Sometimes, I guess. I definitely don’t feel like it’s my place the same way you feel about Seattle, but… I don’t know where else I’d go.”

I trace my fingers along his forearm, feeling the warmth of his skin. “I get the not knowing part. When I was deciding about Seattle, I applied to so many different companies in different cities. Portland, Denver, San Francisco. I had no idea where I’d end up, but I’d always wanted it to be somewhere out West. I’m really lucky it worked out the way it did.”

“The first night I met you, I would’ve guessed you lived in Denver.”

“Close.” I smirk.

He doesn’t respond, and when I look at him, he looks lost in thought. “Chicago does have its perks though. It’s close enough that my family doesn’t even know I’m in Bloomington tonight.”

“They don’t?” My thigh presses to his, and it draws my eyes down to look at our naked bodies, our soft dicks between us. It’s so vulnerable, but I have no intention of moving. I hope he doesn’t either.

“No. One less night with them is better for all of us, trust me.”

My heart breaks for him. I picture a younger Marcus sitting at a dinner table, waiting for his parents to be proud of him and never receiving their acknowledgment or support.

It makes so much sense now. The maybes. The way he’ll give me everything in bed but only fragments of his life because he’s probably worried if he shows me who he is, I’ll reject him too.

But I wouldn’t.

Under all that nothing fazes me attitude, he’s a giant softie who just wants to be loved. And I feel lucky that he’s let me see even a little of that.

“Marcus, why do you—” I start, wondering why he keeps coming back if they treat him like shit, but he cuts me off.

“Besides, I want to see how many times I can make you come tonight.”

He’s deflecting, as usual, but I’ll let him have it, especially because he shared more than he ever has before. My dick perks up at his words, forgetting the heavy conversation we were having, and of course, he notices. “You did say that.”

“And I keep my promises.” His hand slides down my side, over my hip, and wraps around me with confident familiarity.

He starts touching me again, taking his time as he kisses me slowly, with so much passion. He trails kisses down my stomach, buries his nose in my happy trail, and sucks bruises into my inner thighs just like last year. When his mouth finally engulfs me, I’m already embarrassingly close, overly sensitive, and it barely takes anything at all. A few slow strokes of his tongue, the drag of his hand at the base, and I’m done, coming with his name on my lips before I even have the chance to warn him. My orgasm hits me, and I’m completely boneless beneath him, spent in a way that feels different from the first two times.

“Do you want to shower?” Marcus asks, and I nod, unable to speak. “Let me go turn it on for us.”

CHAPTER 15