Confusion crossed Laura’s face, whether at Bo’s huge heart or his love of all things astronomy, Sam didn’t know and didn’t care. What was it he’d overheard Bo tell PomPom weeks ago? “I was really looking forward to being his friend.” He still felt like a complete shit for letting Laura’s pre-conceived beliefs about Bo affect how he treated him. It was so obvious now that…
“He just wants you to love him for who he is,” he said. “And if you can’t do that, then I agree with Bo—don’t call him for help again.”
Leaving a shocked Laura in the kitchen, he went in search of his boyfriend.
Knock, knock, knock. “Bo?”
Ignoring Sam, Bo thumped his head against the bathroom cabinet behind him. He was so mad at Laura that he’d feared he’d take his anger out on Sam, so he’d locked himself in the second-floor bathroom. His ass was numb from sitting on the tile.
“Bo? Are you okay?”
Was he okay? Well, let’s see. In summary:
Laura had lied to him.
Laura had lied to him because she was selfish and thought it was okay to fuck with his life to get what she wanted.
Laura didn’t respect him.
Laura was never going to stop seeing him as an indecisive flake.
Ergo, he might as well stop trying.
He was never going to have the kind of relationship with his sister that Sam had with his own. One of camaraderie and trust and love. It was time he accepted that and moved on.
The red he’d seen while talking to Laura downstairs was gone, replaced with a sadness so deep it hurt his stomach. It was easier to be angry, easier to rail and blame.
He had no idea what to do with the hurt.
“You don’t have to talk to me,” Sam said from the other side of the door. “But I’m right here, okay?” The slide of fabric on wood, and when Sam spoke next, his voice came from much lower to the ground. “I’m here if you want to talk.”
The tears Bo had been fighting sprung to his eyes. Sam was the reason he’d walked away earlier. Looking at him had made Bo realize that the way Sam treated him—with care and understanding and kindness and affection—was the way he wanted to be treated by everyone. It hurt to drop people from his life—his parents, his sister, his so-called friends in Ottawa—but he didn’t want to be treated like an afterthought anymore.
“Bo,” Sam said, voice warm even through the door. “I don’t know if I ever apologized for the way I treated you when you first arrived.”
“You did,” Bo whispered, too softly for Sam to hear.
“I was freaked over being sued, sure,” Sam continued. “But I was also… Laura said you were… Anyway. I didn’t need a complication in my life so I let it colour how I perceived you and how I treated you. I’m sorry, Bo.”
Reason number fourteen-thousand why Bo was so done with his family.
He reached up for the doorknob and opened the door. And there Sam was, sitting against the wall right outside the bathroom, eyes filled with concern.
“Why are you telling me this now?” Bo asked.
“Because I want you to know that the way Laura described you is not how I see you. You’re smart and kind and thoughtful and funny and you put others before yourself, even those who don’t have a voice, like the evil chickens, and all the animals you’ve looked after in the past two months, and the horses at the farm. You’re a little bit prickly, but I love that about you. I love everything about you.” Sam ran his thumb over Bo’s cheekbone, catching a tear on his thumb. “I see you, Bo. I see you.”
Unable to form words past the lump in his throat, Bo crawled over to Sam and snuggled up against him, laying his head on his shoulder.
He blew out a shaky breath against Sam’s neck, then ran his fingers over the goosebumps that formed on Sam’s skin.
“I’m sorry you had to see that down there,” he said.
Sam snorted. “Laura said the same thing.”
Just her name made Bo frown.
“Besides,” Sam continued, “I like seeing you all fired up. Total turn on.”
“What?” Bo chuckled despite himself. “It is not.”
Sam grabbed Bo’s hand and put it over his crotch, where there was a semi-hard cock under Sam’s jeans.
“Holy shit,” Bo said, laughing. “You’re not kidding.”
“Nope. You totally do it for me, babe.”
Bo kept laughing until a sob took him by surprise. Dismayed, he hid his face in Sam’s shoulder.
Sam kissed his temple. “Have you ever told Laura how you feel? I got the impression that she doesn’t really know how hurtful she can be.”
“’ Course I haven’t,” Bo admitted. “I’m a dude; we don’t talk about our feelings.”
“You and I do,” Sam countered.
“Yeah,” Bo agreed. “But you’re easy to talk to.”
Sam’s arm around his shoulders tightened. They sat silently for a few minutes. Bo breathed in Sam’s comforting scent and felt his soul calm. There weren’t any sounds coming from the kitchen and he briefly wondered where his sister was.
“I feel so used,” Bo said. “Used and hurt and… I guess, at the same time, I’m not even really surprised she did this. Truth is, had she told me up front what her plans were, I probably still would’ve come. I just wanted her to…” see me. He didn’t say it. Sam knew how he felt. Sam saw him.
“I know,” Sam said. His heart beat so strong under Bo’s ear. Bo wished he could take some of that strength and wrap it around him. As if Sam read his mind, he lifted Bo and sat him between his legs, encircling from all directions, keeping Bo protected and safe. Much like he had when Sam had thrust Bo behind him when Laura had opened the door earlier.
Bo brought one of Sam’s hands up to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “There’s a small part of me that’s not even mad, because had I not come here I never would’ve met you.”
“We would’ve met anyway,” Sam said. His deep voice rumbled in his chest and Bo felt the vibrations against his back.
“You think?”
“You’re going to WebconLite in October, aren’t you?”
“Yeah,” Bo said, though he had no idea where Sam was going with the question. “I signed up because I saw that S.P. McAuley was going to be there.” Realization dawned.
“See?” Sam kissed the back of his neck. “We would’ve met anyway.”
Bo smiled and hooked his foot over Sam’s. “I like that.” WebconLite was a small annual con in Toronto dedicated to all things web comics. “I was going to bring my hard copies of Scythe and Swords and ask you to sign them.”
“But now you’re not going to?” Sam asked, a smile in his voice.
“Actually I was going to the day I found out you’re S.P. McAuley, but I didn’t know if that’d be weird or not.”
“Not weird. Flattering. It’s really cool that you were a fan before we met.”
“And yet you still won’t share the upcoming storyline with me.”
“Nope. Sorry,” Sam said, sounding anything but.