Chapter Twenty-Five
It took three more days to reach Woodhuish, and they were good days. And good nights. But not great, because while Lucas allowed the s*x to happen, participated in it, enjoyed it, slept in Tom’s arms afterwards, Tom was aware of an invisible and insurmountable barrier between them: Lucas’s shame.
He couldn’t imagine Lucas ever initiating s*x between them, saying in an urgent voice, “Tom, I need you now,” just as he couldn’t imagine Lucas joking about what they did. Lucas would die rather than say “Get your saber out, Tom, and let’s have a swordfight.”
When the time came for them to part, Lucas would be glad—glad that it was over—and that made Tom both angry and sad. He wanted to hit something, and at the same time he wanted to cry.
He stared out the window at the De
