Page 3 of Find Me Again (KRK Security #3)

It took Neil's parents two days to notice.

Well, to be fair, it had probably taken a few hours, but they'd given him two days to settle in first.

"Honey, listen," his mom started when the three of them moved to the living room after dinner, supposedly to watch something. "We can tell something's wrong. And whatever it is, we'd like you to talk to us—"

"There's nothing to talk about, Mom."

It was a reflex, really. Deny, deny, deny .

"First of all, don't interrupt your mother," his father said from his seat next to her on the couch. "And second of all, we don't lie to each other in this family, remember?"

Neil swallowed back a humorless laughter. If only you knew .

"Sorry, Mom."

Leaning forward, she rested her elbows on her knees.

"It's fine. I'm more interested in whatever's going on, because pretending like it's nothing is not helping anybody. You don't have to hide stuff from us."

Now, that same laughter got stuck in his throat.

He'd been hiding most of his life—ever since he'd realized there were things to hide. And his mom might think it was so easy to simply talk it out, but it wasn't. It never had been. For all that he believed she was honest when she said it, she didn't know .

She didn't understand.

"Is it the same thing you've been hiding ever since you were a teenager?" she asked quietly, tossing Neil's entire world off balance in one sentence.

She could've easily shouted it at the top of her lungs, with the effect it had on him.

He froze, his heart jumping into his throat.

"What do you—" he started, then hesitated. It couldn't be. Could it?

And then the realization hit him full force.

"You knew," he whispered. "You knew back then, you knew about me and—"

"We didn't know," she told him when Neil stopped in the middle of the sentence, unable to finish it. "We suspected, but we didn't know. And we thought about asking, but then you… The two of you had a falling out, and we couldn't figure out how to approach it."

" I couldn't," his dad corrected gruffly. "It's on me that we didn't ask, back then. I thought it was best not to, when there was no reason to ask anymore. Which is stupid, I see it now. I completely missed the point, and I'm sorry for that, Son."

"We're both sorry for that." His mom glanced at his dad before turning to Neil again. "That's why we didn't want to wait this time around. Maybe it's about that, maybe it's something else, but whatever it is, we want you to know that you can tell us anything. And I mean anything ."

Burrowing deeper into the armchair, Neil lifted his good leg to press his knee to his chest. It was a tight fit, but he felt better like this as he scrambled to make sense of it all.

His parents had known.

He'd thought he'd hidden it well, but they'd somehow always known.

And now they were asking…

Neil swallowed hard. He could tell them. Not everything—especially not the blackmail part—but he could finally admit the biggest, scariest secret of his life.

As he curled his arms around his bent leg, he looked up to see his parents sitting side by side, watching him. Waiting.

Were they holding their breaths, like he was?

"I'm gay."

His voice was barely louder than a whisper, but the words were out there, now.

It happened, and the world didn't end.

"Thank you for telling us." His mom leaned closer to rest her hand on his forearm. "We love you so much, and we're so proud of you."

He bit his lower lip hard, blinking fast. His eyes were stinging, but he was not going to cry.

"Nothing in this world could ever make us stop loving you," his dad added. "And you being gay doesn't change how proud we are."

Now Ryan had to press his fingers to his eyes to hold back the tears.

Fuck . They'd known for years and they didn't care. They didn't care .

"I'm sorry for whatever we did that made you doubt that," his dad continued, and his mom squeezed Neil's forearm. "We should've made you feel secure enough to share, and we didn't. I'm sorry."

"It's not—" Neil dropped his hand to meet his dad's gaze. "You didn't do anything wrong, it's not about that. I felt like I couldn't tell anyone, not just you."

His dad opened his mouth, but his mom got there first.

"Let's not argue about that now. We have regrets, but they are ours to deal with. Now, we want to focus on you, okay? We want to support you in whatever way we can."

"You're doing that now," Neil told her. "Both of you. And I'm—" He swallowed hard. "I'm more grateful than I can say."

"You don't ever have to be grateful for us loving you." His mom's tone of voice bore no discussion. "That's our job as parents, and you always made it the easiest thing in the world."

"Okay, okay." Neil sat up and cleared his throat. "I love you guys, too, but how about we change the subject now?"

"You didn't tell us what's bugging you, though," she said, withdrawing her hand slowly.

Neil shook his head. He was all talked out for tonight.

"We covered the biggest part of it," he told her, which wasn't even a lie. "The rest is something I have to deal with on my own."

She watched him for what felt like forever before finally sitting back.

"Well, fine, but remember that if it's guy trouble, I know a thing or two about that." She nodded towards her husband of forty years, who predictably protested right away.

"Hey!"

Neil snorted, relaxing in his chair as he watched them bicker.

This evening had been nothing like he expected, and although he still had things looming over him, he felt lighter than he'd felt in ages.

He felt safe.

* * *

The next day, he slept in and ate a late breakfast as his mom was working on a pecan pie solely for him. Whenever he'd come to visit, there usually was some kind of a family gathering—or three—but she'd always made sure to make one of his favorites outside of any party. And he loved that, even if he always needed to add extra time in the gym for a while after a trip home.

"Do you have any plans for the day?" she asked.

"No, I figure I'll see how it goes. But if you need me for some errands or something, I'm game."

She hummed in agreement. "I might ask you to drop by Aiden's place later, I've promised to lend him my spare casserole dish."

"Sure. Do you have a spare one, though?" he joked. There were at least four of them in this kitchen, he'd bet his playoff bonus on it, but with how much food his mom always prepared for the guests, she probably needed every dish and appliance she had.

"I might have more than one if I decide to skip the sweet potato casserole this year," she told him in an innocent voice, and Neil quickly lifted his hands in surrender.

After all, her sweet potato casserole was one of his favorite dishes of all time.

"I'm withdrawing the question."

"Smart move."

They smiled at each other, and he sat there with her until the pie was in the oven and his second cup of coffee was empty. Truth be told, he was tempted to lounge on the couch the whole day, but he'd done that yesterday and he needed to get out of the house or else he would just obsess over Josh's threat and what it meant for his career or life in general. His parents had held back from asking more questions so far, but they would certainly sit him down for another come-to-Jesus talk if he stayed hidden in the house, dressed in sweatpants and an old T-shirt every day.

Finally, he decided to get on with things. He would drop the casserole dish at his cousin's place and then see what to do next. The weather was nice and it might be good to get some fresh air.

It wasn't until he was driving up the familiar path through the forest that he realized he'd planned to come here since the moment he'd woken up this morning, groggy and disoriented, from a dream about that hill and about Ryan and him as they once were, before everything went to shit.

He hadn't had one of those in years.

Neil blamed it on the conversation with his parents and the fact that he had replayed it in his head over and over yesterday, wondering what it would have meant to have it back then, and whether it would have changed anything.

Which was stupid. Of course it would have changed things—it would've made it easier for all three of them, but especially him, since he wouldn't have to lie and overthink stuff so much.

What it wouldn't have changed, though, was his decision to leave for Chicago, because no matter how difficult it had been at the time, no matter what it had cost him, he'd always known it was the right path for him.

He wasn't proud of how he'd handled it, but he hadn't regretted it.

And yet here he was, driving up the hill he hadn't been on in twelve years.

When he saw the tire tracks, he smiled at the thought of someone else finally discovering this place. Back then, he and Ryan hadn't shared it with any of their other friends, wanting to keep it for themselves, but it was still bizarre to him that the two of them had never seen anyone else up there.

Not anymore, apparently.

He drove slowly, no longer used to driving in the snow, but the path was unchanged from what he remembered. Who knew, maybe he would be able to ride up there with his eyes closed even now, since muscle memory was a hell of a thing.

Then he got to the top and saw the other car, recognizing it right away.

It belonged to Ryan's father.

Neil hit the brakes, overwhelmed by the improbability of it all—the dream, the decision to come here, the chance of Ryan being in town, let alone here, at the same time as he was.

Twelve years he'd avoided this. Twelve long years, only to stumble upon Ryan in the very place where it had all started and then fallen apart.

He could still leave. One turn around on the narrow path and he could pretend it never happened.

A man stepped out from behind the car and all thoughts disappeared from Neil's head as their gazes met.

Jesus Christ.

His heart was beating loudly and his hands were sweating like every time he closed them around his stick right before a big game.

Ryan was taller than Neil remembered, and although he was bundled up in a bulky winter gear, his long legs were on full display in fitted jeans.

And his eyes… They were always the most beautiful part of him, one that had haunted Neil's dreams his freshman year of college and beyond. They still felt familiar, against all odds and reasons.

Then Ryan disappeared behind the car again, and in his mind, Neil could picture him sitting down on the back of his father's truck and staring out onto the forest in front of him.

Neil could still go. He could make that turn, and drive away, and look over his shoulder anytime he ventured into town for the rest of his time here.

Nobody would know but the two of them.

It would be fine.

Clenching his hands around the steering wheel, he stared at where Ryan disappeared for one heartbeat, then another.

It wouldn't be fine. He wouldn't be fine, because no matter how easy or how hard it had been to not think about Ryan when he hadn't seen him or heard from him for the twelve goddamn years, this was different. Right now, Neil was about a minute away from Ryan he'd never seen before, this older version of the boy he'd loved with all that he'd known how to give, back then.

Fuck , Neil hadn't called it for what it was for so long, and yet now that he'd taken one look at the man, there was no denying it any longer.

There was no driving away, either.

Whatever this was going to be—good, bad, or ugly—it needed to finally happen.

Neil needed it to happen.

He slowly drove up and parked his car next to the other one, facing the opposite direction. Then, after counting to three, he left the safety of the truck.

As the cold air hit him, he zipped up his jacket and pushed his hands into his pockets, curling them into fists as he took the last few steps to see Ryan again, this time from much closer.

And Neil knew all too well how it felt to be slammed hard against the boards by another hockey player colliding with him at high speed, but it still had nothing on the way he felt the second he met Ryan Dawson's gaze at that very moment.