“Who hurt you, Zeke?” “Someone who should have known better.” He lets out a deep sigh, and I think that’s going to be the end of the conversation, but he keeps talking. “He was my foster brother and the first guy I ever loved. At least I thought I loved him, but I had no idea what that really meant back then. He was nineteen, and I thought the sun rose and set with him.” He gives a self-deprecating laugh. “How old were you?” “Fourteen.” My heart breaks for a young adolescent Zeke. “What happened?” “Turns out he was just experimenting.” He snorts. “With his sexuality. With his fetish for
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