Hot. Seriously hot, thinking of Joshua, the lost little Mormon, getting thoroughly debauched by four hard-bitten warriors. They should make a porno like that. I’d buy the very first copy. I kissed him again. “So that sold you on the legion life?”

  He laughed. “You mean, fucking them? No, I knew which places in Marseilles they were hanging out.”

  “Not what I meant. How did you get from group sex to getting recruited?”

  “I…it took a couple days to filter through. What impressed me about them was that ease. These guys weren’t taking shit from anybody. They were clearly close and loyal to each other, and there was a distinct ‘us versus them’ going on. In their world, legionnaires are a breed apart. It’s like some kind of family, without the pressure or baggage. I liked that. That confidence. I had some romantic ideas about it, anyway. Reality was a bit of a wake-up call, but once you’re in…”

  “Sounds like a very different world.”

  “It is. Was.” He frowned. “I might go back, I might not. But it was good to feel like I was accepted. As me, not as what I was supposed to be.”

  “I can imagine.” This was getting dangerously close to the emotions that had driven us into bed again in the first place. “Did you, uh, before me…” I hesitated. “Was—”

  “Were you my first?”

  I nodded.

  He did too, and smiled, caressing my face with a warm, calloused fingertip. “Yeah. You were my first. Then there was a little, uh, indiscretion a few months into my mission, and then the legionnaires.”

  “An indiscretion?” I arched an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

  His cheeks colored. “Another missionary and I. He admitted to me one night that he thought he was gay, and the longer he was away from his ward and his family, the harder it was to ignore it. I told him I’d been with a guy before, and…” His eyes unfocused, and his smile was both nostalgic and sad. “So one night, things got a little out of hand, and by the next morning, he knew he was gay.”

  “What about you?”

  Julien’s eyes refocused, and the sadness left his smile. He leaned in and kissed my forehead. “I already knew.”

  I shivered and draped my hand over his waist. “So did I.”

  He drew back again. “So what happened? I mean, you came back from your mission…”

  “Yeah. I came back, started going to college and met my first boyfriend.”

  Julien tensed subtly, lips tightening for a split second. Oh, is that a jealous bone, sir?

  I went on. “We dated for a couple of months, but it was just exhausting keeping it on the down-low. He wasn’t out, and I was a Mormon. So it kind of fizzled, and I started getting more and more bitter about the Church for that and for a number of other reasons. Then I…” I hesitated, biting my lip.

  Julien ran his hand up and down my arm. “What happened?”

  I avoided his eyes. “Kind of self-destructed, I guess. I’d relied so heavily on my faith for so long, and when I realized it was gone, I think I sort of lost my mind. Stopped going to school, worked a bunch of shit jobs in shady places and pretty much focused on getting drunk and fucked as often as possible.”

  His eyes widened. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Not my proudest period.” I smirked. “Though when I was sober, I did learn a thing or two from the guys I was with.”

  His hand moved from my arm to my shoulder, and he slid a little closer, holding me in a way that felt nothing if not protective. “But you got past all that. Eventually.”

  “Eventually.” I put my arm over him, pretending not to feel the scar on his ribs as my arm settled. “I still drink, but I very, very rarely get drunk. And I’m still promiscuous, if not quite to the same degree as I used to be.”

  Julien chuckled, though he didn’t loosen his sheltering embrace. “I can’t exactly judge.”

  I searched his eyes for a moment. “Have you had any relationships? With men?”

  “One. Sort of.”

  “What do you mean, sort of?”

  “It wasn’t exactly a committed, monogamous relationship, but…” Julien’s expression was definitely nostalgic this time. “We kept coming back to each other.”

  “Tell me about him.”

  Julien furrowed his brow. “You really want me to tell you about another man while I’m in bed with you?”

  “I’m curious about him.” I’m curious about you. Who you are. Everything. “You don’t have to, though.”

  He was quiet for a moment, and I thought he might change the subject. “I met him about three months after I finished training, when I was assigned to my unit.” He rested his head against mine. “Tatar. There are lots of Eastern bloc boys in the Legion. We were assigned to the same unit, did very similar things. I admired that guy. He comes across as totally fearless, but the first thing that struck me was his tattoo.”

  “Shower?”

  “Digging.” Julien grinned. “He has a huge Russian Orthodox icon tattooed on his back. I’ve seen some pretty dreadful tattoos in the Legion—hell, the boys are sometimes just bored—but that was good enough to stand out. And I figured he had to be a Christian of some description, so maybe I was getting closer to him to sound him out on that.”

  “You missed your Bible discussion group?”

  “I was just curious what a Christian does in the Legion. I mean, there’s all kinds—Muslims, Christians, but it’s still a different level if you have a huge Madonna with child tattooed on your back.”

  “And?”

  “He said it was just a ‘lucky charm’, but I didn’t believe him, and he ended up getting closer. We became friends—he’s a really good guy, I’d fight with him at my back any time of day.” Julien idly ran his finger along my arm. “After…well, let’s say something pretty dramatic happened that rattled us all a bit, we ended up alone together. Things just happened—one moment, we’re just randomly touching, the next moment, we’re fucking. Didn’t make much sense in hindsight, but it was exactly what we needed. We didn’t talk about it, really. It was clear we weren’t dating or in love, but there was quite a bit of lust going on, and trust, and comradeship, and respect. Which sounds weird. ‘I fucked him because I respected him.’ Obviously we were also horny. It didn’t mess with our friendship either. But it wasn’t quite just blowing off steam with a random stranger.”

  “Battle buddy with benefits?”

  He chuckled. “I guess. I pretty much stuck to him. I liked him best of the lot too.”

  “What’s his name?”

  “Timur. He never changed it. Took French citizenship, though.”

  “Are you still in touch?”

  “We’re both between completing one stint and signing up for the next. He pushed me to actually leave France. Said I’d regret it for the rest of my life if I didn’t try at least to make peace.” Julien’s expression darkened, and the reality of why he’d come home settled in around us again. His finger still moved on my arm, and his body was still close to mine beneath a single sheet, but he was miles and miles away.

  “Julien.” I lifted his chin until our eyes met. “There’s still time to make peace.”

  He winced.

  Running the pad of my thumb back and forth across his cheek, I whispered, “Don’t give up on him yet.”

  He held my gaze. While his face had been blank earlier, it was the opposite now—no longer devoid of emotion but still impossible to read. What he’d say, what he was thinking, I had no idea, and caught myself holding my breath as I waited for him to tip his hand.

  Finally, he touched my face the same way I touched his. “The only thing I haven’t given up on is you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere.” Are you?

  He smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. Then he kissed me gently. The instant our lips touched, my heart melted. It was that same type of kiss we’d shared yesterday, that type that was all feeling and not the least bit sexual, and even as the kiss deepened and we pulled each other closer, even as that mutual arousal came back to life and he hooked his leg over mine to pull our hips together, that still wasn’t what this kiss was about. It was beautiful, and it hurt, and I held him tighter because I didn’t want it to end. Ever.

  He finally broke the kiss but stayed close to me. Forehead touching mine, he whispered, “Thank you. For being here.”

  I didn’t know whether that warranted a simple you’re welcome or a thank you for coming back. So I just kissed him instead. That was easier. Not simple by any means—there was nothing left between us that could be considered simple—but easier.

  “Do you have to work tonight?” he asked between kisses.

  “Not for a few hours.” I brushed my lips across his. “I can take tonight off. If you…if you need me to.”

  He grinned. “What if I wanted you to?”

  I pulled back and met his eyes, and the mischief in his brought a laugh out of me. “I’ll call my boss.”

  “Yes. Do that.” He started to push me onto my back. “But not right this second.”

  “He can wait.”

  “Good. Because I can’t.”

  Chapter Eleven

  By the time we emerged from my bedroom, showered and dressed, it was well past five in the evening.

  “I don’t keep a lot of food in the house,” I said. “Do you want to go out somewhere and grab something to eat?”

  Julien nodded. “It’s been a few hours. I could use a bite.”

  “Same here. I’ll get my keys.”

  We walked from my apartment to Broadway and searched for a place to eat. Capitol Hill was a broke foodie’s paradise—every variety of food imaginable, and usually dirt cheap. We settled on a Thai restaurant not far from Wilde’s.

  When Julien ordered his four-star, I raised my eyebrows.

  “Getting brave in your old age?”

  He chuckled. “You don’t last very long over there without developing a taste for hot food.”

  “Is that right?” I smirked. “Then put your money where your mouth is and get some five-star.”

  “No, thanks. I’d like to actually taste it.”

  “The ‘taste’ ship sails at three-star, my friend. Four and five just exist to separate the men from the boys.”

  He laughed. “Well, in that case…” He turned to the waitress. “Make it five-star.”

  She giggled and made a note on her pad. “And you?”

  “Phad Thai. Two-star.”

  “What?” His jaw dropped. “You badgered me into five, and you’re getting two?”

  I shrugged as I handed my menu to the waitress. “I actually do like to taste mine. I don’t need to prove myself.”

  He just rolled his eyes and shook his head. Then he opened his mouth to say something, but my shrill ringtone cut him off.

  “Oh, what fresh hell is this?” I muttered, digging my phone out of my pocket. The caller wasn’t in my contacts, though the area code was local. “Probably someone from work. Hang on.” I put the phone to my ear. “This is Chris.”

  “Chris. Hi.”

  The phone almost fell out of my hand. My airway tightened, and Julien’s forehead creased with concern.

  I cleared my throat. “Mom?”

  Julien’s eyes got even wider.

  On the other end, my mother’s voice was quiet, almost timid. “Yes, it’s…it’s me.”

  “This is”—my conversation with Bishop Campbell flashed through my mind—”unexpected.”

  She had the good graces to hesitate. I tried to work out when I’d heard her voice the last time. Right. My birthday. February. I should have gotten a new phone, really. But as successfully as I’d removed myself from the Church and my family, maybe there was still a bit of hope alive that they—or I—would reach out. Or maybe that they’d call me in an emergency. Blood being thicker than water.

  “I just wanted to hear how you’re doing.” A little defensive.

  “I’m doing. Going to school. Working.” Dating. Well, kind of. Was I?

  “That’s good.”

  That silence was unwieldy now. Why on earth was she calling? “And, uh, you?”

  “I’m fine.”

  More silence. Just as I was trying to come up with some kind of excuse like I was waiting for an important call or my battery was about to flatline, she broke it. “I spoke to Bishop Campbell today. He said he’d met you in the hospital. Is everything all right?”

  Oh, the son of a bitch.

  “Uh. Yeah.”

  “Are you sure everything is all right? You’re not…ill, are you?”

  Kick in the gut. Because my homosexual lifestyle meant that God was killing kittens, drowning cities and bestowing AIDS and other biblical scourges on me and my kind. “No. Healthy as can be.” Definitely in the fucking head.

  “Then why were you there?”

  I swallowed and leaned back to allow the waiter to set my bowl of soup down. “I went with a friend. His father’s ill.”

  “Oh. Yes, right, he said he’d met Joshua Hawthorne.” She didn’t sound shocked that he was alive. Word must have been getting around.

  I glanced at Julien. “Exactly.”

  “How is he doing?”

  “Well. As can be expected under the circumstances.”

  “Is he staying with you?”

  “Yes.” And why do you care?

  Silence again. In the last years, we’d spend more time in silence than exchanging words. Eventually, that would stop hurting.

  “Chris, don’t take that the wrong way, but we don’t think you are the best company for him.”

  “And why’s that?” I gritted my teeth and was about to speak when Joshua reached out and put his hand on mine. Heavy, rough, strong. He could calm me with one touch, give me strength in the same moment. I looked up, and it didn’t hurt quite so much. “We’re old friends.”

  “He’s on the path to forgiveness with the Church.”

  He was? Or was Bishop Campbell just being overly optimistic in his assessment?

  “Well, good for him.” That was Julien’s battle, and frankly none of my mother’s business.

  “It’s just…you were so close before—too close, if you catch my meaning.”

  “I do.”

  “So you don’t want to stand between him and God, do you?”

  “Seriously, if you think that is what God is about, then fuck him and you too.” I put the phone down, hit the End Call button on the second try and stared at the screen like it would jump up and bite me in the face.

  “You okay?”

  “I…” Nausea rose in my throat. “I need a fucking drink.” Before I could think twice, I flagged down the waitress. She trotted over, and I ordered a beer. I hated Thai beer, but it was the only alcohol they had, so it would have to do. Once she’d gone, I rubbed my temples and cursed.

  “Chris?”

  I slowly released my breath and then looked at him. “Apparently Bishop Campbell has my family and probably yours worried that being around me is bad for you.”

  He snorted. “Seriously? They think you’re the bad influence here?”

  I tried to laugh but failed. “They always have.”

  His laughter vanished. “What do you mean?”

  Sighing, I ran a hand through my hair and hoped that beer would just materialize on the table. Fortunately, the waitress was on her way over, and I took the can before she’d even set it on the table, and swallowed three big formaldehyde-flavored gulps. It didn’t help the nausea much, but it was alcohol, and it was well on its way to hitting my bloodstream, so whatever.

  I set the can down but didn’t let go of it. “When we were younger, people thought there was something…not right about us being friends.”

  He blinked. “This is the first I’m hearing of it.”

  “I know,” I muttered. “That’s because the ‘something that wasn’t right’ was me.”

  “What?”

  “I guess they caught on that I was ‘different’, as my mom always said. They didn’t put the pieces together and figure out I was gay until later, but there was something.” I took another drink, then pushed the can away. “When they did figure it out, everyone got concerned about us being friends. Because we were so close. I guess they thought…” I cringed at the memory of all those conversations, all those countless times I’d adamantly insisted that I didn’t have a crush on Joshua, that I’d never touched Joshua, that I didn’t think of Joshua that way, that I wasn’t going to lead Joshua astray. And of the morning I’d been on my way to school after seminary, and realized that yes, I did have a crush on Joshua.

  Julien folded his arms on the table. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

  “What was I supposed to say?” My voice wavered a little. “That they were right?”

  He cocked his head. “Right? About—”

  “They were right that I had a crush on you.” Heat rushed into my cheeks. “And everyone kept warning me away from you because you were on this righteous path to greatness, and even if they couldn’t save me, they could at least stop me from dragging you down with me.”

  Julien’s lips parted.

  I stared into my bowl of cooling soup, which I suspected I wasn’t going to end up eating after all. “I wanted you. Like you wouldn’t believe. But I didn’t want…” I didn’t want them to be right. I didn’t want to drag you down.

  “Chris. Look at me.”

  It took some effort, but I did.

  “They were wrong about you.”

  “No, they weren’t.” I laughed humorlessly and shook my head. “They knew I was gay. They knew I wanted you before I even knew.”

  “But they were wrong about you dragging me down with you.” He reached for my arm again and squeezed gently. “And quite honestly, when it comes to being on the alleged ‘path to forgiveness’, why would I turn my back on you in favor of…that?”

  I put my hand over his on top of my arm. “I’m not going to stand in the way of you resolving things with your family.”