"What do you mean?" I asked.
Sam began rubbing his palms together. I opened my mouth to tell him we didn't have to talk about any of this, but he beat me to the punch.
"Mac, my husband—”
Sam suddenly stopped and covered his mouth with his hand. “Sorry,” he continued softly. “Mac and I weren’t married but I still call him my husband. He, uh, got me this ring before he died but he never got the chance to propose.” A tear slipped down Sam’s cheek. “It’s not like gay marriage was legal back then anyway, but I guess he wanted to make it official in our eyes at least. I found the ring in the suit he was supposed to wear the weekend after he died… it was our anniversary.”
“Fuck,” I whispered as I reached up to swipe my hand through my hair.
Sam shook his head like he was trying to dismiss the whole thing. “Anyway, Mac was Declan's partner on the police force. When Declan found out Mac was gay, he refused to partner with him. The whole force saw Mac as nothing more than a perverted deviant. The day Declan told his captain he would no longer work with Mac, Mac was ordered to go out on patrol by himself. His first call was a domestic violence one. Some guy was beating the shit out of his girlfriend and her son. Mac stepped in to break it up, but then the guy’s brother showed up and all hell broke loose. They opened fire on him. He got shot in the shoulder but managed to make it back to his patrol car so he could call for backup."
Sam's voice fell off as he reached up to wipe at his eyes. I knew there was a right thing for me to say, but I had no idea what it was. I cursed the fact that I was so inept when it came to interacting with others. Cruz, and probably just about any other human being on the planet, would've known what to do or say to Sam to make him feel better. But all I could do was sit there like a useless lump as Sam's heart broke all over again right before my eyes.
"Backup never came. Mac could've driven off in his car, but he was determined to save that woman and her child."
"Did he?" I asked.
Sam nodded. "Mac gave her the time she needed to make a run for it. She and her little boy made it to a neighbor’s house."
It was several long seconds before he managed to speak again. "Those assholes left him there to die. He used to tell me how his heart would race and his stomach would drop out when he heard those words… 'officer down.' They were pretty much the worst thing any cop could hear. But when Mac said them… When he was the one who was down…"
Sam shook his head, clearly unable to finish. I was still clueless as to what to do next. Telling him I was sorry seemed like too little. How the hell had I gotten to this point with this man? I was supposed to be thinking of all the ways I wanted to fuck him, not wishing I knew the best way to comfort him. My eyes drifted to his hands again. He was wringing them now. I remembered what his touch had felt like against my own skin as I'd tried to crush the glass beer bottle between my fingers. No, my rage hadn’t magically disappeared, but it had dulled a bit. Long enough for me to get past the helplessness that had consumed me as I'd remembered how badly I'd fucked up by letting Sam's stalker get so close to him and Ryan.
I reached out to cover Sam's hands with one of my own. He stilled for a moment and then, to my surprise, he dropped one hand and then opened the other so our palms were touching. Then he linked our fingers together before covering our joined hands with his other one. It was such an intimate touch, at least for me. But for the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn't feel the need to escape it.
"I know that I shouldn't be upset with Declan anymore. Especially after what he did the other night. He saved Elliot's life. I told him I'd forgiven him, and I have, but…"
"You're still angry," I offered.
Sam nodded. "That's strange, isn't it? To forgive someone… to be thankful for one thing they've done, but still hate them for another." Sam began to rub the thumb on his free hand over mine. I wasn't even sure he realized he was doing it. Once again, I couldn't understand why I was allowing it to happen. Why I was actually… enjoying it.
"No, it isn't. Some people are wired that way."
"What do you mean?" Sam asked as his eyes shifted from our joined hands to my face. I found myself looking away. That, in itself, was a first for me.
"You don't feel things in black-and-white. Cruz is like that too."
"And you're not?" Sam asked.
I shook my head.
"Give me an example."
I found myself meeting Sam's eyes. It was on the tip of my tongue to tell him no. But the words that came out of my mouth were so much more than that simple single one. "Our father."
"What about him?"
I shook my head because that rage inside of me was starting to build again and I wasn't in any position to do anything about it. But then Sam's thumb began to move over mine again and he whispered, "Please tell me, Matias."
I stared at his fingers. His skin was so much lighter than mine. It was more delicate too, and clean. Not marked up with ink like my own. It was another reminder of how different we were. He was refined and classy and good. And I…
Wasn't.
"No matter how many times the fucker would hit Cruz, my brother still believed there was some goodness in our old man. He'd remember the one time we went fishing with him and he’d hold on to that. Didn't matter how many bruises the piece of shit left on his skin or what kinds of names he called him, Cruz still loved him."
"And you didn't?" Sam offered.
I shook my head. "Hated him. Still do. Always will."
Fire danced beneath my skin as rage lit up my belly. The image of Cruz huddled in a corner as our father towered over him, belt in hand, had me yanking myself away from Sam. I climbed off the picnic bench and automatically began searching for something to take my hate out on.
"Matias," Sam said gently, but I was too far gone this time. All I could hear were the sounds of Cruz's whimpers as the belt fell over and over again. No matter how quickly I moved, I couldn't get to him fast enough. I needed that piece of leather to cut into my skin, not his. But I just couldn't get to him…
My eyes fell on the hammer that had fallen off the picnic bench at some point. Probably when Sam had grabbed me and kissed me out of the blue. I tried to hang on to that image, but it was too far away. I couldn't reach it, just like I couldn't reach my little brother. I snatched the hammer off the ground and stalked toward the pretty little shed.
The noise in my head grew louder and louder the closer I got to the small structure. Cruz's pleas, Sam's grief, Ryan's fear… they all jumbled together until I couldn’t hear anything else.
But then, just like that, they were gone. And it was only his voice that I heard.
You’re just like me, Matias…
I shook my head but the evidence was in my hand. No matter how badly I wanted to drop that hammer, my fingers refused the command. I was just like him. I always had been, and I always would be.
I was about to take another step forward toward the shed when Sam suddenly moved into my path. Thankfully, he didn't touch me. Shame that he was seeing me like this warred with the fear of what I might do to him if he made the mistake of laying even a finger on me. I opened my mouth to tell him to get out of my way, but the words wouldn't come. Nor, surprisingly, did my body push past him so it could continue to its ultimate target. We stood there in this strange kind of suspended animation, our eyes locked and our bodies just inches apart. Why wasn't he moving? Why wasn't he running away?