For several long moments, Alex didn’t say anything. He was trying to decide whether to explain what he’d meant or to change the subject. Did he really want to tell Blake what had happened all those years ago? After all, it was water under the bridge now. Nothing would be changed by Blake knowing. It had happened, and it was over with, and he’d moved on long ago, left the bitter hurt and resentment behind, for the most part. Except when the memories would invade his mind while he slept. There was no controlling that.

But meeting Blake again, that same spark he’d experienced being with him when they were twelve years old was back, and how was that even possible? But it was there. He could feel it deep inside him. Twenty years had passed since then…since that first kiss, since that surprised look on Blake’s face, since Alex’s sudden rush of fear of rebuttal, only to be replaced with warmth when Blake had reached out and kissed his cheek, rubbed their noses together and smiled.

He had loved Blake then, and somehow, despite the odds against it, during the years of their separation, that love had never dissipated, and the evidence of it was in the way his heart beat faster and his skin tingled every time he looked into Blake’s hazel eyes.

“Alex?”

“Yeah, sorry, Blake.” He focused on the man in front of him, wanting to touch him, ease away the frown of concern on his handsome face. He was slightly taller than Alex. When had that happened? Broader in the shoulders too…masculine. Alex couldn’t wait to feel that hard, hunky body pressed to his again. Focus, idiot…

“You were so deep in thought, and some of them not pleasant ones, from what I could see.”

Alex nodded then took a deep sip of his coffee. “You asked what I meant by ‘cut me loose’. You’ve heard of conversion therapy, of course.”

“Yeah, but the word therapy doesn’t really apply.”

“You’re right. Abuse would be the correct term. Abuse that goes unpunished because parents approve of it. Because the abusers are encouraged in their perverse ways by the very establishments that should protect children from their clutches.”

Blake’s hand trembled when he raised his coffee cup to his lips. “I can’t imagine putting kids through something like that.”

“Of course you can’t, but my folks could.” Alex knew his tone was sharp and angry. And oh shit, he didn’t want the conversation to veer into that part of his life, the part he tried so hard to put behind him, thrust into the dark corners of his mind where it could stay, safely out of reach. Until the dead of night, or moments like this.

He sighed. “Damn, I don’t want to talk about this right now. It’s so good to see you again, Blako.” He ran his fingers over the back of Blake’s hand. “If we have to talk about the past, I’d rather it was about the times we spent together, the fun we had, the joy I remember in knowing you, being with you. Not the crap that happened later.”

“I understand.” Blake turned his hand palm upwards to capture Alex’s fingers with his own. “But any time you want to tell me, I’ll listen. Maybe it would help to get it off your chest.”

“Maybe,” Alex said, “but not today. Today is for reminiscing about the good times.” He sat back again when the busboy delivered his sandwich. “Wow, I forgot how big these things are. Wanna split some of it with me?”

“Just a corner. It looks very good.”

Alex cut his sandwich into quarters then pushed his plate nearer Blake. “Help yourself.” He studied Blake thoughtfully as they shared the sandwich. “So,” he said after a few moments. “You know what I do, but what about you? You look successful…”

“I’m a civil rights attorney,” Blake replied.

“Wow, impressive.”

“You think so?”

Alex nodded vigorously. “Yeah, I do. What made you choose that field?”

“Who, as a matter of fact. My father. He was very vocal about the injustice in the world, how minorities needed someone in their corner. Not that there aren’t loads of organizations doing

that already, but I wanted to be a part of it. It’s not the highest paying kind of law job, but it feels kinda good, if you can understand that.”

“I can.” He reached for Blake’s hand. “You know, all those years ago, especially the last year we were together, I knew you were a special guy and I wanted us to be forever in each other’s lives. Best friends. I never dreamed we’d be apart for this long.” Tears stung his eyes as he gazed at Blake’s strong features. “I wish…”

“What do you wish, Alex?”

“That life hadn’t been so goddamned cruel, that I could’ve forgiven my parents for what they did to me, that I could’ve found you and told you where I’d been and asked you to forgive me for not trying harder to get in touch, and tell you that you meant more to me than anyone else ever could.” He grimaced. “Now I’m sounding like a whiner, the last thing you want to hear.”

“No, no, you’re not sounding like a whiner,” Blake assured him. “To be honest, I never dreamed we’d ever be having this conversation sitting across from each other. I’ve thought about you a lot over the years, wondering what happened to you, why you just kinda disappeared. But now, we have a chance to share what became of us. And, from the looks of things, you’ve done very well. An artist, and a damned good one.”

“Thanks. Your opinion means a lot to me.”

A sudden silence fell between them. Alex felt its awkwardness and didn’t know how to fix it. Had he said too much, or not enough? Had Blake thought he’d been too open about his feelings and his dislike for his parents?

“Well…uh, I should get back to the office,” Blake said, finally.

“Oh, yeah, of course. You’re working, sorry.”

“We should have dinner, or a drink if you prefer, sometime.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “Sometime?”

“Soon. Sometime soon.”

“How about tomorrow night? I’d go for tonight, but I have another gallery tour at seven.”

Blake nodded. “Tomorrow night then. Call me, and we can decide on a time and place.”

They traded phone numbers then Alex walked Blake to the gallery door. He glanced around before pulling Blake into a hug and laying a light kiss on his cheek.

Blake smiled. “Is it safe to say that the conversion therapy was a failure?”

“A total failure.”

“Good.”

“See you tomorrow then?”

“Looking forward to it.” Blake held him for a moment longer, their faces brushing together, and Alex breathed in Blake’s scent. More than anything he wanted this moment to last, but then Blake stepped back and pushed the door open. “Bye, Alex.”

“Bye.” He watched Blake striding along the street. He’d been an athletic kid, and it was obvious he still maintained a strong, toned body—and yes, he still had that great ass. It had felt so good to be in his arms again, if only for that too brief hug, protected by those wide shoulders, hard and warm, the skin on his cheek smooth and scented with a light cologne…sexy.

Was he crazy to be thinking this way? Twenty years was a long time, and although he hadn’t mentioned a relationship or even if he were dating someone, chances were, an attractive man like Blake would’ve had boyfriends, or even lovers during those years.

Seeing him again after all this time had rekindled strong emotions inside him. He’d thought of Blake so many times during his incarceration. He’d longed for his touch, his kiss. Instinctively he’d known that Blake would have gone to ask his parents where he was. He could imagine the kind of reception he’d have gotten and the lies his father would have told him. He cursed himself for not doing more to find Blake when he’d at last walked away from Farmton Manor fourteen years ago.

He’d gone to Blake’s house, but a neighbor had told him the Carson family had moved two

years prior, and no, she didn’t know where they’d gone. Social media had been in its infancy back then, so there had been no Facebook to even attempt to trace him through. That, and the fact he’d had to start making a new life for himself, find somewhere to live, seek out those who could help him with what he wanted to do…professional photography.

The somewhere to live had proved easy enough. His Aunt Katherine, the one member of his family that had kept in touch with him for the five years he’d been a prisoner, had told him to come to her when he either escaped or was released. Her warmth and caring had gone a long way to help him rehabilitate after the horrors of forced conversion therapy. She had been the one who’d confronted his ‘keepers’, demanding to see him, talk to him, know that he was all right. He hadn’t been able to see her, but he’d heard her fierceness as she’d berated the men who kept her from him.

Of course they were able to produce all the legal documents signed by his parents giving them full control of Alex’s therapy and their permission to hold him at the manor for however long the ‘cure’ took, or until he was eighteen. She had called him on the one phone call per month he was allowed.

“I told your mother and father exactly what I thought of them, and that I would appeal to our congressman for your release as soon as possible, but I’m afraid, my dear, that all my ranting has fallen on deaf ears.” He could hear the tears in her voice. “I can’t believe people can be so wicked, Alex. I will never speak to your parents again, and remember, you will always be welcome here with me.”

Even now, that memory was enough to make him choke back anger and tears. His aunt had been his pillar of strength in those early days after he’d walked free. She had moved from Bakerton to Richmond, Virginia because in her words, she’d never have to worry about running into his parents in the supermarket.

“Maybe a bit of an over-the-top move,” she’d told him on one of her calls, “but you won’t have to worry about that either when you come stay with me.”

Alex walked back into the gallery, going straight over to the photograph of Blake standing at the edge of the swimming hole. By rights, it shouldn’t exist. The day after his parents had left him at Farmton Manor, they had cleaned out his room, determined to burn his ‘sin’ from their lives by making a bonfire of his books, photographs and the posters that had lined his bedroom walls. Only his Aunt Katherine’s intervention had saved some of his photographs.

She’d told him she’d arrived at his home ready to do battle with her brother and sister-in-law and had been horrified to see them throwing Alex’s possessions onto a fire in their backyard. His father had waved some photographs at her, telling her they were filthy and an abomination in the eyes of the Lord. She’d grabbed the photos from his hand and had made off with them after telling his parents just what she thought of them.

She’d kept those photographs safe and returned them to Alex when he came to stay with her. They’d cried together, and Alex had determined that his love of photography, so long stifled during the years at the manor, would now be his career goal. With Katherine’s support he’d applied for entry and been accepted at VCU where he’d been very much at home in their photography department. The one of Blake he’d cleaned and enlarged so that it was fit for display.

His cell phone chirping in his pocket interrupted his reminiscing. Checking the screen, he was surprised and pleased to see Blake’s name. “Hi.”

“Hi, I was just checking to make sure you gave me the right number.”

“Oh ye of little faith,” Alex said, trying not to laugh

“I really enjoyed our time together.” Blake’s voice held a hint of shyness.

“I did too. Best thing that’s happened in a long time. For me, anyway.”

“Me too. Just sorry I had to up and leave so fast.”

“That’s okay. I get to see you tomorrow. Hey, I forgot to ask where you studied law.”

“University of Virginia.”

“Oh my God, Blake. I was at VCU. We were so close. Amazing we didn’t run into each

other at a bar or restaurant or somewhere public.”

“That kinda sucks, doesn’t it?” Blake sounded upset. “We could’ve met sooner.”

“Right, but now we have a chance to make up for lost time.”

“True…”

“And,” Alex said slyly, “I can’t wait to hear what you’d have done if we’d met sooner.”

A light laugh was followed by, “I think I’ll leave that to your very obvious vivid imagination.”

“It’s vivid all right.” He looked at the gallery door as it was swung open, and some people entered. “Gotta go, Blake. Call me tomorrow.”

“I will. Bye, Alex.”

“Bye. Catch you later.”