Page 31 of Holiday Pines

“I know. I know how it sounds.”

“What do you think would actually happen if you told him?”

Wes was quiet for a long moment. “Honestly? He’d probably be fine with it. He’s not a bigot. He knows Pedro and Titus and likes them. Votes for Titus every election.”

“Then why?—”

“Because once I tell him, I can’t take it back.” Wes finally looked up. “And what if I’m wrong? What if itistoo much stress? What if something happens, and it’s my fault?”

Jake reached across the table, covered Wes’s hand with his.

“You’re protecting yourself,” he said gently. “Not him.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that. But at some point, you’ll have to decide if you’re going to keep living for his comfort or start living for yourself.”

“Big talk from someone who’s never had to.”

It could have been cruel, but Wes’s tone was soft, almost apologetic.

Jake nodded. “You’re right. I don’t know what that’s like. But I know what it’s like to hide parts of yourself because you’re afraid of losing the only stability you have.”

They sat with that for a moment.

“If this—” Wes gestured between them. “If this becomes something, then I’ll have to tell him.”

“Yeah.”

“That scares the shit out of me.”

“One step at a time.”

“Yeah… yeah. Friday—” Wes continued, his voice stronger now, more decisive. “Let’s keep Friday strictly business.”

“Okay.” Jake would have agreed to anything if it meant not breaking the fragile connection building between them.

“I need this restructuring to work, Jake. The farm, my father, everything depends on?—”

“I know. I’ll make it work regardless. This—” Jake also gestured between them, the space that felt simultaneously too wide and not nearly wide enough. “—doesn’t change that. I promise. My job is my job. This is...separate.”

Wes studied him for a long moment. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I trust you.”

The words hit Jake with unexpected force. Coming from Wes–a man who had also been carrying things alone for quite some time–those three little words meant everything.

Wes stood, pulled out his wallet.

“I told you I’m buying,” Jake said.

“You can buy next time.” Wes smiled, tossing a twenty on the table. “But I should go. Miguel’s alone at the farm.”

“Right. Of course.”

Wes took a step toward the door, then stopped, turned back. The afternoon sun through the window caught the auburn highlights in his hair, turning his eyes to warm honey.