The Art of Hero Worship (19 page)

For appearances sake, I dig deep and say,
“Well, I’m glad to meet you, David. And thank you for the
coffee.”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure.” He steps back to admire
the life-sized portrait of his daughter.

Liam and I exit through the front door
instead of heading back through the three-bay garage. We actually
run
down the walkway to his car because neither of us can
get away from the misery in that pale, yellow house, which is
certainly nobody’s home, fast enough. Once we’re inside his car and
backing down the driveway, I ask, “Are they going to be furious at
you now, because of the stuff you guys said to each other?”

Liam stops the car at the end of his
driveway, looks at me blankly, and shakes his head. “Nope. What you
just witnessed is normal daily life at my house. I’d call it par
for the course. In fact, I think our little get-together with my
folks went fairly well.”

“Shit.” It’s the only thing I can think of
to say, except for, “That sucks.”

“Let me quote my father, if you don’t mind.”
Liam throws the car in drive. “You said it, I didn’t.”

We decide to go straight back to Liam’s
apartment as the Norwell family’s offensive behavior pretty much
killed any hopes we had for a dreamy and romantic drive along the
rocky coast of Maine. The return trip seems longer, which is
probably because Liam refuses to speak. He’s not angry at me; he’s
just consumed with worry and despair, and I decide that we’re going
to talk out this entire situation tonight.

When we arrive at Liam’s place, I suggest he
takes a long hot shower while I make grilled cheese sandwiches and
chicken noodle soup. He needs a few minutes by himself to get back
in control, and I need time to figure out how to begin the
conversation that is essential in starting to heal Liam’s
distress.

The color is back in his cheeks when he
emerges from the shower, a thick, white towel wrapped around his
waist.

“You sure know how to dress for dinner,” I
say, placing the bowls of soup beside the grilled cheese sandwiches
on his tiny kitchen table in the corner.

“I didn’t think you’d mind,” Liam
replies.

“You were right…. I don’t. You must be
starving.”

He drops into a chair and stares across the
table at me. “I’m hungry, but I… I think we need to… to talk about
a bunch of things.”

“Of course we need to talk, but everything,
including talking, is easier to do when your stomach isn’t
growling. So I want you to put down a couple sandwiches and at
least one bowl of soup.” I don’t wait to see if he starts eating, I
just dig in. He watches me for a few seconds and does the same.

***

After dinner, we get ready to turn in, and
when we stretch out next to each other on the bed, Liam allows one
of his long, noisy sighs.

“You ready to talk now?” I ask. The room is
dark and cool and the blankets are soft and warm on our naked
bodies, creating the perfect condition for a powerful conversation
followed by equally powerful sex. At least, that’s the plan in my
hopeful mind.

“Not really, but I know it’s time.” Liam
reaches out, snatches up my hand, and pulls it to his chest in a
surprisingly needy gesture. He blurts, “I knew I had to save
you
because I didn’t save
her
.”

Liam gets to the point far more quickly than
I expected.

“I could hear Lucy… she was crying, Jason,
and she was calling my name… but I couldn’t get to her.” His voice
is low and soft, even monotone.

I want to ask him to start at the beginning,
but I realize that if I stop him now he may never start talking
again, so instead I listen and let him relate the story in his own
way.

“My bedroom door was hot… I felt it with the
back of my hand like they taught us at school… and I knew I
shouldn’t open it. And there was smoke coming under the door. I had
to go out the window… I had to… but I could hear her…poor Lucy… oh,
Lucy….” He makes a desperate choking sound and the emotions pour
forth. “I knew she was gonna die… and I left anyway because I was
so scared… because
I
didn’t want to die!”

I don’t ask questions, and I don’t pull him
into my arms; I just squeeze the hand that’s clutching mine to his
chest. I want so badly to remind him of what he once told me: you
never know how you’re going to act when you’re terrified. But it
isn’t my time to talk.

“I jumped out the window… broke my leg that
night… but I couldn’t feel the pain of it until the next day. Mom
and Dad… they were outside standing by the tree that we agreed
would be our family meeting place if there was ever an emergency.
And Mom and Dad….”

Remembering his parents at that critical
moment eight years ago brings Liam to the point of sobs. “Tell
me…”

“Jase… Jase… when she saw me… when I got to
the tree, Mom screamed, ‘Where’s my baby? Where’s
Lucy
?’
Then she asked how I dared to show my
fucking face
without
my sister beside me, and she pushed me to the ground and kicked me
again and again, and pointed at the house and told me, ‘Go back in
there and get her!’”

“Liam….” In the absence of actual sobbing on
my part, silent hot tears are streaming down my face. “Liam….”

“And then she said I was fucking useless and
I always had been… and she ran into the house… Jase, it was
burning… I could feel the heat from the flames all the way across
the yard… and Dad had to chase her and drag her back out of there…
and she was kicking and screaming and biting and pulling his
hair….”

I’m horrified by the tragedy itself, and
more specifically, by the torturous choice Liam had to make that
night—to save himself or attempt to save his sister and likely die
trying. And I’m furious with Donna for her cruelty and David for
not standing up for his son, but, at the same time, I know they all
were in pain.

“I killed Lucy… can’t you see? By jumping
out the window to save myself, I caused her death!” Liam pulls his
hand from mine and bolts up straight. “When Lucy died, our family
died… I did this to all of us! And I’m so sorry!”

I get what he’s saying. Liam feels
responsible for Lucy’s death in a similar way to how I feel
responsible for Ginny’s. But he had to deal with his guilt and
grief and loss as a child… a child who lost his parents, for all
intents and purposes, on the very same night. “No, Liam, it’s not
your fault. You didn’t kill her.”

“Jase, when I heard your whimpering sounds
in the theater, it was like I was right back in my bedroom on the
night of the fire….” Liam is determined to say what he needs to
say, and it’s hard to hear but I let him go on. “I had a chance to
do the right thing with you. To make up for… for what I let happen
to my sister.”

“You did the right thing that night in your
bedroom. You did what you were taught to do and you escaped the
fire with your life intact.” I kneel behind him and drape my arms
around his broad shoulders. “And if you’d left me in the theater it
would have been the right thing for you to do then, too.”

“You can say those things and you can think
them… but I saw my mother’s eyes when she told me she wished it was
me who’d died in that fire!”

I pull him back onto the bed and once he’s
lying beside me, I climb onto his chest. Seduction might not be the
right thing to do at this moment, but it’s the only thing I can
come up with that will change the direction of his thoughts. He
needs
me to do this now. I bend down and press my lips hard
on his until we’re both gasping for breath. Then I say, “I needed
you in the theater and I needed you at the hotel and I need you
everyday… I think somehow… for some reason… you were kept safe
for me.”

Liam’s arms are quickly around me and he’s
shifting my body beneath him. “And I needed to hear those words
from you… it’s all I want….” In a split second I’m looking up into
eyes now less haunted, and more determined and demanding. “I saved
you and now I need to know you’re mine.”

His tears have dried leaving streaks on his
cheeks that add to a wild look I’ve never before seen. He speaks in
a low husky voice that’s new to me too, and I’m stirred by the
rawness and neediness he’s allowing me to witness. “That’s right,
Liam, I’m yours.”

“Tonight isn’t going to be sweet or soft or
tender, Jason. And I need you to know that I’m gonna make sure you
know you’re mine… I mean, it’s not gonna
hurt
you, but it
might
change
things.” With these words his fists encircle my
wrists and he weighs me down with his body, his burly chest
pressing mine into the bed. “Now tell me you understand and that
this is what you want.”

At first I just nod, but the glare he sends
me clearly indicates that he wants a verbal response. “Yes… it’s
what I want.”

Honestly, I’m spooked by his ferocity, but
the haunted look is, for the most part, absent from his eyes and
he’s no longer withdrawn, as he’d been in the car. He’s
communicating and it’s honest communication. He’s telling me what
he needs from me. “I’ll do anything…
everything…
you want,
okay?”

He nods and says, “Then brace yourself,
Jason.” This order echoes in my mind, as I think he suggested it
once before, not too long ago.

A prickle of chills dances down the back of
my neck and skirts around, landing on my chest, which he’s already
sucking with such force that I lose my breath. I resist the
instinct to push him away or to ask him to wait until I’m ready,
because I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for what he has in mind
tonight. Somewhere inside, I know that in giving him what he wants,
I’m going to get everything I need.

“So you’ve chosen to live by the honor code…
you’ve heard of it, I’m sure. It goes like this: I saved your life
and so now you owe me yours. Isn’t that right?”

“I—I—uh….”

He goes on talking, despite the fact that I
didn’t reply the way he likes me to. “I wanna be the one to guard
your life.” He starts to climb up my body. By the time he’s seated
on my chest he’s rambling, as if in a trance. “I wanna know that
you’re always gonna be safe, and here for me… so I need you to let
me look out for you however I see fit… and I need to be able to
take you… in bed… the way I want… because then I’ll know you’re
really mine.”

“Yes….” This is all I have time to say.

Liam has continued to climb my body so that
his dick is now directly in front of my face. He paints my lips
with its moist tip, and I know exactly what he wants me to do. I
slide my arms down to my sides where I know he wants them, and for
a split second I’m shocked, because never in my life did I envision
myself in this position, or at least not on the bottom end of this
situation. But I raise my mouth and feed on Liam’s length the very
second he lowers it to my lips. The sound I hear from him when I
take him into my mouth is so gritty and primitive that it brings to
mind a climax, but I have firsthand knowledge that this is not the
case. I decide that he’s experiencing a different kind of release—a
release of all the secrets and anguish and feelings of seclusion
that he’s kept inside for far too many years.

He hovers over me, pushing himself in and
out of my mouth, forcefully and repetitively, for so long that I
can’t imagine how he can hold back his orgasm. His thrusts are
rough and abrupt and purposeful; I think he’s unaware that it’s me
beneath him, struggling to guide his dick with my tongue in his
frenzy of movement. And when he slows enough to reach down, softly
caresses my cheek, and say, “My Jase… my Jase,” I know he remembers
that it’s me who’s under him. I take this moment to worship with my
mouth, my lips, and my tongue, this man who keeps me safe, in body
and soul, using a tender dominance I’ve come to crave.

Without warning, he stops what he’s been so
intent upon doing. “Lie flat and open your legs.” It’s an order and
I obey promptly. He turns around, and descends upon my body in a
heated rush. “I’m gonna have myself a feast. Don’t squirm away from
me… and….”

I’m not new to oral sex, but what Liam
proceeds to do to me is in a category all its own. He’s somehow
harsh and at the same time gentle; I feel passion and fury with
every stroke of his tongue and brush of his beard. On my body, he
expresses his heartache at the loss of his family and his joy at
finding me. I’m panting within a minute and shouting within
two.

“Liam, let me touch you, too! Please
Liam!”

“I’ll touch both of us!” In response to my
begging, he throws himself on top of me, pushes our dicks together
and grinds, kissing my lips with a hunger I’m not sure I can
satisfy. Within a few seconds we’re both letting go and it’s so
all-encompassing it almost hurts. The experience is too intense to
actually keep kissing, so our two mouths simply merge, wide open
and pressed together, our tongues tangled, but unmoving.