Free New York Christmas by New York Christmas Page B

it was a fire inside his head. He was finding it so hard not to let his need to physically hurt Whit escape to become actual violence.
    “You could have told them the fucking truth.”
    “I couldn’t.” Whit was evidently horrified at the thought.
    “Time’s up,” Chris bit out in response. He opened the door and stood to one side.
    He wanted Whit to leave; he didn’t need to stand here listening to this shit.
    “Is there anything I can do for you,” Whit finally said, “as my way of making things right?”
    Whit looked genuinely confused. Did he not realize what he had done? Just how much Chris’s career was in the gutter? Was he that oblivious?
    “You are joking, right? You know what you need to do. Go back to the school. Be honest. Tell them that it was actually us in a relationship, and that I didn’t act inappropriately with my kids. Tell them the email forwarded to them was from you to me, not from me to a child in my care.”
    “I can’t. People will think I’m… Hell. I’m not even gay.” Whit pushed the words out there. He had to have the final word, his voice resonant with disbelief.
    Any control Chris had snapped and he saw red. The mist of temper descended so fast there wasn’t time for rational thought and in seconds he had punched Whit back against the wall and then had his hands digging hard into Whit's shoulders.
    “You were gay when you were buried inside me, fucking me into tomorrow,”
    Chris said. He tightened his grip, Whit trying to push back, a whimper in his throat.
    “You were more than fucking gay when you were giving me head.”
    “Please… stop…” The word was strangled, quiet. It was nothing in the expanse of the energy and sound inside Chris’s head and he pushed harder. He felt pressure on his shoulder, the force used to pull him off, the curse, and he released his hold, confusion carving through him. Daniel was here? Daniel’s voice was shouting at them, pushing them apart, Chris stumbled back and Whit scrambled for the door, incoherent anger edged with obvious fear.
    “Stay here—” Daniel was shouting. No. Talking loud, telling Chris to stay. Chris didn’t have the energy to say anything. He slumped to the floor, adrenaline leaving his body in a rush. What have I done? What am I? Daniel was in his uniform. Daniel was here. Chris’s lover was leaving—running out of the room after Whit. Shit. He had no energy left, not one ounce of emotion other than total despair. He didn’t know how long it was, it could have been seconds or hours, everything blurred, but Ame was there, falling to her knees next to him and pulling him into a close hug. Then it was Daniel who crouched next to him, Daniel who was talking.
    He was going. Said he was going.
    “Don’t go; I need to explain.” Chris managed to force out the plea, regrets tumbling through him as fast as light at the blank look on Daniel’s face.
    “Listen—look at me.” Chris blinked, tried to make it more obvious he was listening, Ame gently stroking his arm. Daniel sounded resigned, devastated. “I’m in uniform. This is official. I can’t stay.” And with that, he left.
     
     

    * * * *

    Daniel caught up with the guy that Chris had his hands on just outside the shop.
    Tall, dressed in a suit, and shiny rich, he was exactly the type of person Daniel took to avoiding on his trips back home. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on but he knew Chris. There was something happening here and this preppy suit wearing blond was at the center of it.
    “Sir,” he said formally, even though what he really wanted to do was lay him flat on the ground with a single punch. What had happened that has caused Chris to lose it like that?
    “Whitman Hamilton-Keyes the third,” the man introduced himself. “You saw what he was doing. He had his hands on me.” Whitman was visibly shaken and his eyes were lit with a maniacal gleam. “Asked to leave his school position because he was coming on to minors. And