But whereas I had wanted to shout our relationship to the world, Walt had been hesitant. He’d been abandoned by his birth mother when really young and had never known his birth father. This made him latch onto his adopted family like a lifeline. Yet it also made him paranoid of closeness with anyone.
It had been a bone of contention between us, and, young as we were, perhaps I didn’t really understand that, I admit. I assumed and led him where I wanted him to go. Except in the bedroom. He’d been a natural top, surprisingly enough. Or perhaps not. When Walt wanted something, and that something was me, there was no stopping him. I hadn’t wanted him to, either.
Memories and indecision swirled in my head until dinner time, and I still didn’t have an answer to the question Robbie had posed.
What did I want?