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To all siblings everywhere, who fight and bicker and tease each other but at the end of the day, still love each other.
Because you’re a sadistic fuck who gets off on cutting up your kid for some perceived mistake that somehow brings shame to our name?
Most of the team doesn’t know I’m gay. I’m not really hiding it but I’m not announcing it either. They’ll figure it out. Why did I have to fall in love with a sport that has men with the sexiest asses? It's just unfair.
I hate my skin. The scars that mar my body. Proof of my fuck-ups and the twisted mind of my father. There’s never a time I can just pull my shirt off. I’m always aware of the way my shirts fit, preferring to tuck them in most of the time to keep my body covered.
I want to fucking scream. After two years of this, how has he not learned I’m not fragile? Fucking hurt me dude. Take what you want and don’t hold back.
Everyone thinks I workout like a man possessed because I’m dedicated to hockey but it’s because it quiets my thoughts.
I wonder if he’s always like that or if it was a one time thing. He touched you like he owned you and you loved it.
One of the many reasons I don’t like to be touched. The sensation is off. It never feels right.
I’m good at it, it’s easy, but I don’t enjoy the game. Not the way someone trying to make it in the NHL should. I don’t have the passion for it my father tried to cut into me. He ruined any pleasure I got from it a long time ago.
I fall asleep pondering the life of Charles Preston Carmichael. Everyone thinks he’s a spoiled, rich kid, but maybe the grass isn’t greener just because your family has money.
Part of me craves human contact, but in reality, I can’t stand for anyone to touch my body. Arms and hands are okay, and sometimes a leg brush, but my torso is absolutely off limits.
What would it feel like to be held by someone? To breathe them in, their hands running through my hair while we laid in bed, pressed together. I want it so bad it hurts. But the smallest touch on my skin turns my stomach. My heart wants it but my mind can’t handle it.
That moment of pure panic in his eyes has all my protective instincts demanding he talk to me though. I want to fight for him, but I don’t know what demons he has.
Preston is an asshole ninety percent of the time but the more I’m around him, the more I see cracks in that armor. No one deserves to be afraid like that.
“If I disappear for more than five minutes, come looking for me.” The words are quiet as they tumble out of my mouth. Only Jeremy could have heard them, the rest of the guys in here are laughing and screwing around. His finger hooks around mine and my eyes close at the contact, my breathing hitching in my chest as my stomach cramps painfully.
And honestly, I want him to use me. No one has ever given me what I really crave, but Preston is dark enough to do it. There’s a part of him that wants to cause pain, wants to take and use and hurt.
This is what I’ve always craved but couldn’t ever ask for. He’s going to break my heart.
Is it important? Yeah, to me it is. Not being able to touch the person I’m fucking sucks. No touching at all? Hugs? Holding hands? Cuddling?
Brendon scoffs, shaking his head. “He left a clear fucking message on your body. He wanted me to see it.”
Jeremy calling me, trying to stop me from leaving, almost broke me. He shouldn’t care about me. I’ve given him no reason to. But I need it.
Even I don’t recognize myself in the mirror. Who is this guy? You’re a freak. Jeremy will never accept you. What is there for him to like? You’re a constant failure.
Father comes in with blue surgical gloves, a blue surgical gown, and a clear plastic face shield. This outfit haunts my fucking dreams. If I have to have surgery at a hospital, they’ll have to sedate me long before I get to the table to avoid me freaking the fuck out.
He doesn’t say a word, just gets up and leaves my bed. Like I won’t wake up in a panic tonight after we’ve gone to bed, fighting off the nightmares that haunt me. Like he won’t wake up and climb into my bed with no resentment or judgment and let me use him to anchor myself to the here and now, my chest pressed to his back and our fingers locked together.
Hesitant excitement flutters in my stomach when it shouldn’t. The guy is difficult, has anger issues, and is about as cuddly as a cactus, but I want him anyway. I want to be his safe space, to see a part of him that no one else sees.
Somehow, in the weeks we’ve spent in this fucking shoebox of a room, I’ve learned to trust him and didn’t even realize it. Yet, I’ve done nothing but hurt him.
“I don’t know how to touch without fucking.” His confession breaks my heart. Has no one just held him because he needed it? Offered a hug? I wrap my arms around his neck and bring him into me. “It’s okay, I do.”
Am I riling him up on purpose? Yes. Am I risking bodily harm in doing so? Yes. Do I regret it? Not a fucking chance. I love that possessive streak he gets when it comes to me.
Jeremy’s glowing face lifts up, pressing his lips against mine. This kiss is different from the other ones we’ve shared, slower, deeper, it means something. This kiss is a promise, a symbol. It’s not to be rushed or hurried or angry, but explored, experienced, enjoyed.
I’m fucking lost without him. He’s the light in the dark maze of my life. I want to beg him not to let me go, not to disconnect the only lifeline I have, but I don’t. I can’t do that to him.
“Boyfriend,” Jeremy says, like it’s my name. “That word is so childish. Undignified.” I scowl at him while he smiles at me. “Well, manfriend sounds skeezy, guyfriend sounds like a buddy, and you’re more than my fuck buddy, so deal with it.”
I’m exhausted. Physically and mentally drained from the last few days of living without him. That’s pathetic and selfish but it’s the truth.
I hate myself, so how can anyone want to be around me, much less love me?”
“The only person who thinks you aren’t good enough for me is you. I deserve whatever I say I do, and I want you. That makes you fucking worthy because I said so. You have some baggage, I’ll give you that, but it’s not an inconvenience or a burden to me.”
“And I touch you whenever I want. I know where it’s okay and the limitations don’t bother me. I understand why they exist. Give me a better map of where it’s okay and I will touch every centimeter I’m allowed.
“Because I get to see parts of you that no one else sees. You aren’t easy and I don’t know how to tell you this, but I like a challenge. So, take this one day at a time with me until you’re ready to plan for the future. I’ll wait for you.”
“I crave it but it hurts.” My hands immediately leave his skin, hovering over his body. The idea of causing him more pain breaks my heart. I can’t hurt him. “No, no.” He pulls my hands back against him. “I need it, please.” “I don’t want to hurt you.” My throat is clogged with emotion, making it hard to speak. “You don’t. You make it better.”
The lost little boy look on his face breaks me. This moment will forever be seared into my brain. His carefully concealed world is crumbling and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Just sit and watch it happen, then pick up the pieces of him when it’s over.
Jeremy is a fixer, sitting back doesn’t sit well for him. He needs a task but I can’t give him one.
Jeremy has cracked my walls and used the holes to scale them. My once impenetrable fortress is held together by glue and popsicle sticks. One good hit and it’ll crumble around me, leaving me vulnerable.
Maybe I should let some of these guys in and actually try to be friends with them. I’ve never had friends. That’s fucking depressing, but it’s the truth. Jeremy is the first person I’ve trusted since my mom died.
Logically, I know I shouldn’t be ashamed, I am the victim and not to blame, but the words he made me believe tell me otherwise. If I would have just listened, behaved, been good, he wouldn’t have had to hurt me.
I head back to the tiny bed we share and lay down with the quilt pulled up over me to wait for him. Maybe life doesn’t always suck and I’m not destined to be alone.
“Jeremy, I love you more than I ever thought possible. My life is not complete without you, I am not complete without you.”
“These bands aren’t perfect. Like us, they’ve been struck and dented, but the flaws in the metal make them unique and strong.”
“I’m far from perfect. Life with me will not be easy, but I swear I will love you for the rest of my life.”
“I’m taking your name when we get married,” Preston says with the utmost seriousness, sliding the ring onto my finger. “I don’t want to be a Carmichael anymore. Make me an Albrooke.”
“He calms me, soothes the ragged edges my life has left on my soul.”
“He shows me that I’m lovable, even in the dark moments when everything tells me otherwise.”
Do I want to do this? No. But I don’t want to hurt anymore, I don't want to give my father the power to continue to cause me more pain even after his death,
“I knew you were capable. There was something about you from the very beginning that called to me, that told me I needed you just as much as you would need me. That’s as true today as it was then.” Jeremy cups my face and lifts until our eyes meet. “You are worth so much more than you give yourself credit for and I can’t wait to see what you accomplish.”
