Freedom (The F-Word #5) - E. Davies Page 0,28

knew was Henry’s medical history. All they knew was that he’d had too many surgeries for a guy his age. They were all relieved that he wouldn’t need more time off for a few years.

Henry wished he could be done with surgery forever, but he’d need an implant replacement when it broke down. The stupid things weren’t designed to last more than a decade at the absolute most. But for the time being, the worst was behind him.

It felt incredible that other people saw the person Henry was now, not the one he’d left behind. But his silence was starting to feel more like a too-small shirt. Or a binder. Henry cracked a smile at the thought. He’d been so fucking glad to give the compression garments away after top surgery to a charity that distributed them to trans guys in need.

Henry had explained the wide scars on his chest as a congenital condition and his coworkers had easily accepted it. After all, five years ago, far fewer people had even heard of trans guys. They hadn’t asked about the rectangular skin graft scars on his thighs, or the one on his hip that led down into his waistband. All his scars were fading into white now, and Henry hardly noticed them anymore.

Even with today’s growing awareness, most people didn’t put two and two together unless they were told. After working so hard to be seen as just himself going forward, was it crazy to want to tell people about his past now, too? What did other trans people do?

Henry had no idea. After moving to Denver, he’d never joined any support groups or anything. The only trans friend he’d kept in touch with was Nic, an online friend who’d chosen the same lower surgeon as Henry. He’d been able to talk about his own experiences to help Nic make a decision.

But Henry was starting to realize that he wanted to be open. He didn’t want to tiptoe around and pretend he’d been granted the boyhood he should have had; he didn’t want Trip to keep questioning why someone as “objectively hot” as Henry was so nervous about dating guys.

He was tired of shaving away little bits of himself to make others comfortable.

“Give it to me now.”

Henry stumbled as he locked up the mini-bus and pocketed the keys. “What?”

“The dirt. There’s no way you don’t have dirt. You haven’t said a word about your Grand Canyon trip.”

Trip leaned on the side of the bus next to him, scratching his short beard. His warm brown eyes were fixed on Henry, not letting him get away. They were just getting ready to take out a crowd of guys on a bachelor party.

God, it was hard to explain why this date had been so significant. It hadn’t seemed like Jaden was just experimenting, curious about trying it with a trans guy. And for Henry… feeling confident enough to disclose his past, face-to-face, for the first time in a year? Being treated just as himself in return? Then having the most unbelievably awesome sex of his life? It was like a dream come true.

“Ah, I dunno,” Henry said with a shrug and a smile, trying to deflect.

“Did you like him? Did you hate him? Who was it? What was he like?”

This, at least, Henry could say. “He was… amazing. Sweet, kind, gentle. A little bit quiet. Playful sense of humor. Really anxious, but I know how to help with that.”

“Is he your type?” Trip grinned. “Did you fuck?” Heat rose in Henry’s cheeks, and Trip gasped. “He is! You did!”

Trip knew more about Henry than some of his gay friends. It was hard to admit to them how little sex he had. But he and Trip told each other almost everything—usually much more on Trip’s side, given that distinctly lacking sex life.

“Okay, fine,” Henry grumbled and elbowed Trip on the way by. “If you’re gonna be a nosy bastard, yes, we did.”

“Whoa. That’s not like you.”

Henry bit his lip. There was no way he could explain how right it had felt. What a relief-filled high he’d been on, even to contemplate it. And how well it had turned out, coming so hard he just about saw stars—and at another man’s hand, rather than his own.

It was the stuff of years of fantasies for Henry. But it was too embarrassing to admit that a plain old handjob had left him floating on cloud nine.

“No, it’s not. But you only live once, right?” Henry finally met