Page 2 of Brad & Finn (Gomillion High Reunion #3)

The bartender inclined his head again, but turned around when a man on the other end of the bar called for a refill. Brad’s eyes strayed downward, clocking the bartender’s thick legs—and he quickly forced his attention back to the menu.

He was surprised to see that none of the local beers he remembered were listed anymore.

He wasn’t the biggest beer drinker, so it didn’t bother him too much, but he began to understand some of his mother’s ire.

He glanced over at the man once more, thinking it took some balls to come into a new town and overhaul a place like this.

He placed the menu down, and the blonde woman appeared in front of him. “What can I get for ya, hon?” she asked, her gravelly voice carrying a hint of exhaustion but also that southern hospitality he always missed when he went back up north.

“Double of whiskey, on the rocks,” he said, straightening up out of his usual slouch. “I’m actually celebrating a promotion.”

One blonde eyebrow raised indulgently as she grabbed a whiskey glass and scooped a few ice cubes into it. “Oh, yeah? Here in town?”

Brad placed one arm on the bar and leaned forward. “No, I’m based out of Chicago now. Or, I guess, come the end of the month, I will be. The past few years, I’ve been a bit all over the place.”

The woman spun the glass of whiskey across her knuckles, and Brad made a mental note to tip above his usual 20%.

“Excited to settle down a bit?” she asked, as she poured the whiskey, which just so happened to be one of Brad’s favorite brands.

“Honestly? I think it’s about damn time. Getting too old for all this running around. It would be nice to put down some roots.”

The woman handed him his whiskey. “Well, that’s something to drink to, ain’t it?”

She held up a glass of water, and Brad’s chest warmed as he clinked glasses with her. “I’m Brad.”

“Bronwyn. You let me know if you need anything else, hon.”

Brad took a shallow drink and then a deeper one as the warmth hit his tongue, loosening his shoulders and back. This was precisely what he needed. A little relaxation after a long day of travel and a friendly toast—even if it was just a bartender doing her job.

Before he could take another sip, a voice called out to him. “Brad Willson?”

He turned to look at the man sitting at the end of the bar. In his mind’s eye, he could see that face but twenty years younger, a football helmet blocking out most of his forehead.

“Miles Johnson?”

The man, Miles, nodded, and Brad didn’t even hesitate. He stood up and scooted down the bar until he was seated right next to his old friend.

“Miles, buddy, how‘ve you been?”

“I’ve been good. How about you?” he asked, tilting his head towards where Brad had just cheersed with Bronwyn. “Celebrating being back in town for the reunion?”

Brad felt childish excitement overtaking him. He’d wanted to celebrate, and if he was remembering correctly, Miles had always been a good guy. He’d been a bit reserved, not close with many of the other football players, but he came around to a few parties and joined them at lunch from time to time.

Brad decided to take a chance and share his good news. “Not quite, but I actually am celebrating. I just got a big promotion back in Chicago.”

Miles raised his glass, and Brad’s grin spread as he clinked his glass for a second time that night. “Congratulations! At least, I assume that’s a good thing?”

Brad’s hand froze halfway to bringing his glass to his lips. Of course it was a good thing. Who didn’t celebrate a promotion? He’d been working towards this for years, putting in the blood, sweat, and, yes, sometimes even tears. This was what he wanted, though…right?

Of course it was.

He put his glass down, blaming the whiskey for his hesitation.

“It’s good,” he said as his fingers absently found the edge of the napkin wrapped around his drink.

“I’ve been running myself ragged the past decade or so, trying to earn my keep and get some credit with the rest of the coaching staff.

After all that, it looks like they’re finally willing to give me a shot.

And I’m excited for the opportunity, but also all around ready to settle down. ”

Miles raised a curious eyebrow. “With anyone in particular?”

God, Miles sounded just like his mother. “Not at the moment,” he said, with a chuckle that sounded a little forced.

It was on his to-do list: get a promotion, prove himself, find someone, settle down, and make his mom proud, in that order. Unfortunately, he wasn’t having much luck in the “find someone” department. The least he could do was a little settling down.

“Well, you seem good, anyway,” Miles said, oblivious to Brad’s internal monologue.

“Thanks. You, too,” Brad said, lifting his glass back to his lips.

Miles sniffed, and Brad stopped, once again not quite getting the whiskey into his mouth.

“Or…not?”

Miles took a long drink from his pint glass, and Brad used it as an excuse to take a quick drink himself. He might not get a chance to otherwise.

“It’s too much to get into here,” Miles finally said.

“I’ve got nothing but time, man,” he said—because it was true. He didn’t have anywhere to be or anyone else to talk to. “Hit me with it.”

“Uh, okay. Well,” Miles said, his eyes darting away. “I started dating someone recently. My first partner, actually.”

Ah, maybe that was why Miles asked about Brad’s lack of relationship status.

“Congratulations! Who's the lucky…” Brad paused, thinking of all the times his buddies backed him into a corner by asking him who the “lucky lady” was in his life. He had no clue about Miles’ sexuality, but he didn’t need to know not to be a dick. “Person?”

Miles did a pretty good job of hiding his surprise, except for a slight tick in his jaw. “It’s Atlas St. James.”

The name conjured up neon colored hair and gender-bending clothing. “Oh! I think I remember him. He’s—” Brad kicked himself for having been thoughtful the first time, but not the second. “Sorry, is that the right pronoun?”

“It is. And he’s… well, he’s amazing,” Miles said, with a smile that was there one second and gone the next.

There was definitely a story there, but Brad hesitated, not wanting to pry. Miles had been sitting at the bar alone, though. Maybe he could use a friend tonight just as much as Brad did?

“That’s awesome, but…why does your face look like that?”

Miles snorted. “Like what?”

“Like someone stole your cat.”

“I don’t have a cat,” Miles deadpanned.

Brad burst out laughing. “Alright, you got me there, but seriously, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not out,” Miles said, his eyes catching and holding on to Brad’s. “As gay.”

Brad winced. “Ah, that’s tough.” Before he could stop it, a question burned its way up his throat. “Have you known for a while?”

“Since I was eleven.”

Brad’s mouth fell open. “You knew throughout high school? Damn. I know we didn’t hang out a ton, but…I hope you felt like you could have told me if you wanted to.”

Miles waved a dismissive hand. “No, it wasn’t like that at all. I didn’t come out to anyone. Only my sister and Atlas know. And now you and my therapist as of today.”

Wow. Double damn. “I have to say, I’m glad you told your therapist before me, but truly, thank you for trusting me with that.”

“You seemed trustworthy.”

Brad was touched, especially since Miles had no way of knowing Brad was also queer. He hadn’t given it much thought, but it was possible he would be doing a lot of coming out this weekend. It wasn’t a part of him he hid, but it also wasn’t how he usually led a conversation.

“I can’t believe you knew that early,” Brad mused, his voice coming out contemplative and a little low.

Miles leaned forward. “What do you mean?”

Brad cleared his throat and made sure his voice came out much clearer this time. “I didn’t come out as bi until college.”

Something changed in Miles’ posture or maybe his face. “How did it go?” he asked, his voice even lower than Brad’s had been.

Miles seemed to be, both literally and figuratively, on the edge of his seat, ready to run if Brad gave the wrong answer. He decided to leave some of the harsher details out, sensing that maybe this wasn’t the time or place to get into all that.

“There were a few bumps along the way, but most people were cool with it—or just indifferent.”

“And the people who weren’t?”

Brad hesitated for a beat. That… also probably wasn’t what Miles needed to hear about right now. “Can I give you some advice?” Brad asked, switching tactics.

“Please.”

“Some people suck,” he said, and Miles' grim lips turned up slightly. “Some people will react poorly. But that’s how you know who will stick around and who you can let go.”

Miles huffed. “That easy?”

“Not easy. Simple, but…not easy.” He thought back on some of his nastier college teammates and even some of his past girlfriends.

No, it hadn’t been easy, but it was worth it.

“It can be really freeing, though. Like us, just talking about it so casually at our local bar. I know we haven’t talked for twenty years, but I want that for you. ”

“Thanks, man,” Miles said, his face relaxing into a soft expression. For the most part, the years had been kind to him. He had a few crow’s feet starting to form around his eyes, and there was a worn quality to his skin that spoke of days outside and long summers in the South Carolina sun.

“Let’s not go another twenty years before we talk again, okay?” Miles added.

Brad grinned and pulled out his phone. “I’d like that.”

They exchanged numbers, and Brad had the bright idea to ask him about the railing at his mom’s house.

He’d heard through the grapevine that Miles did contracting work around town.

Sadly, there were a lot more steps than he’d thought, and Miles promised to text him the details.

They chatted for a little longer, and Brad got another whiskey before Miles closed out his tab and they wished each other good night.