Page 7

Story: Leave

Chapter 7

Riley

There was exactly one major drawback to living in Japan, and that was coming back to the U.S.

Crossing the International Date Line along with like seventy-eight time zones meant the mother of all jetlag upon landing stateside. For the first forty-eight hours, Nolan and I were somewhere between semi-sentient zombies and potatoes, and that was being generous.

Fortunately, we’d planned for this. We’d booked a hotel in San Diego near the airport, and we spent the first two days there just getting our internal clocks back into some semblance of order. My family didn’t expect to see us until the third day, so it worked out.

I’d been kind of surprised that, while planning this trip, Nolan had insisted on separate hotel rooms. Obviously we didn’t sleep in the same room at home, but not even on the road?

Whatever. Maybe he snored or something. Hell, maybe I did. And honestly, I didn’t mind having some space to myself while I decompressed after the longest flight ever endured by human beings. Okay, it hadn’t been that long, but it sure as fuck felt like it.

It worked out well enough, though. We’d meet up for food or get something delivered to one of our rooms. We’d watch a few movies, and then we’d retreat to our separate rooms to call it a night.

On the third day, we were as adjusted to the time as we were going to be, so we checked out of our hotel and rented a car. I drove it around the parking lot a bit, and then wandered the area near the lot, just getting used to driving an American car again. Someone had warned me that it was easy to get used to driving on the left in places like Japan. The tricky part was coming back; mentally, a lot of people expected to just bounce right back to the way they’d driven most of their lives, and that was when they made mistakes and caused accidents. I took that to heart and proceeded with caution. Plus just sitting on the left instead of the right felt weird, despite driving that way for my entire adult life before Okinawa.

Nolan didn’t mind, fortunately. Or if he did, he didn’t say anything.

Once I was sure I wasn’t going to forget which side of the road to drive on, and I was used to negotiating turns and staying between the lines while on the left side of the car, I got on the I-5 to head for my hometown.

At that point, I had to wonder if my “getting used to driving on the right” exercise had been, on a subconscious level, a way of stalling. Because as soon as I was on the freeway, apprehension started somersaulting in the pit of my stomach. Banging around in my head were the same questions I’d been asking myself for months—longer, honestly—but they were louder and more urgent now.

What if this didn’t work? What if seeing me with a boyfriend finally catapulted my parents from quietly disapproving and asking weird questions to telling me exactly how bad this was?

What if I actually did have to follow through on my unspoken ultimatum?

I hadn’t told them this was do-or-die, but it was. It had to be. If this didn’t work, then I was out of ideas, out of patience, and out of…

Out of my family.

Fucking hell.

“Riley?” Nolan’s voice startled me out of my thoughts.

“Hmm?” I glanced at him. “Sorry, what?”

“You were slowing down.” He gestured at the speedometer. “You good?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m…” Shit, I was going fifty on the I-5. It was a genuine miracle no one had road-raged me yet. Accelerating up to the appropriate eighty-five miles an hour to go with the flow of traffic, I said, “Sorry. Was just thinking.”

“Yeah?” There was curiosity in his tone, but he didn’t press.

I didn’t want to talk about this. I didn’t want to think about it. And Nolan was posing as my boyfriend on this trip. That didn’t mean he was actually my boyfriend. So I didn’t need to unload on him. I’d told him enough so he could be ready, so he wouldn’t be walking into this and get blindsided, but I wasn’t going to trauma dump on him any more than I already had.

So, I shifted the conversation, and I spent the drive pointing out various landmarks from my childhood, especially as we got closer to my hometown. My high school. The decrepit shopping mall where I’d had my first job back when the place was still in its heyday. The business park that now stood where there’d once been a diner that tolerated my friends and me until all hours of the night.

The familiar roads wound closer and closer to my old neighborhood, and before I knew it, we were here: parked in the flower-bed-lined driveway of my childhood home. In the front window, there was a service flag with a single blue star, and the sight of it made me wince. Mom probably still had her NAVY MOM bumper sticker, and Dad had probably added to his car’s collection of stickers showing their support of my career.

I hated this. I hated it so much. They were so proud of me as a Sailor. So supportive of me ever since I’d decided to enlist, just like they’d been supportive of everything I’d tried in my youth.

Everything except my sexuality.

Do I really want to cut all of this off because they can’t accept that?

I swallowed hard as I stared up at the service flag. I didn’t want to do this, no. But after sixteen years of begging them to accept who I was, I couldn’t handle it anymore. I was done. Fucking done.

That didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

And maybe I won’t have to. Maybe they really will see me with Nolan and realize…

I exhaled, pressing back against the driver seat as I let my hands slide off the wheel. It had seemed like such a good idea in the beginning. Now I was here, and over the next few days…

“You’re not ready for this, are you?” Nolan’s voice was gentle. Not at all snide or judgmental. Full of empathy, really.

“I’m not.” I shut off the car and turned to him. “But we’re here. And I need to do this. Even if it sucks.”

He nodded. “All right. I’m ready when you are.”

I was never going to be ready, but I couldn’t put this off anymore, so I took a deep breath. Then I got out of the car. Nolan fell into step beside me as we headed up the walk.

Halfway there, I slipped my hand into his.

He glanced at me, his expression puzzled.

“Just to sell it,” I explained.

He nodded sharply, and we kept walking, and I tried not to think about how much I liked this feeling. Not approaching my childhood home with a “boyfriend”—that could go straight to hell—but of holding Nolan’s hand. It seemed childish and silly, but whatever. The only physical contact I’d had in the past year was the mostly-dressed fooling around I’d done with Nolan. I hadn’t realized until just now how much I’d been craving affection .

Figures I can only get it when I’m asking a man to fake it.

Ugh. Because I didn’t already feel like shit about all this.

I schooled that out of my expression and plastered on something neutral. At the door, I paused to take a breath. I was reaching for my keys, but then the door swung inward.

“Riley!” My mom beamed as she stepped across the threshold to hug me tight. “How are you? Oh my goodness, it’s been too long. How was your trip? Have you eaten?” She pulled back and looked me up and down. “You don’t look like you’ve been eating—”

She stopped abruptly before I could insist that, yes, I was eating plenty. I didn’t say anything, though, because she wasn’t looking at me anymore.

Nolan shifted his weight and glanced at me, eyebrows up as if to tell me he was waiting for my cue.

I cleared my throat. “Um.” Sliding a hand over the small of his back, I told my mom, “This is Nolan.” I smiled despite my nerves. “My boyfriend.”

“Oh.” My mother looked Nolan up and down. “Well… Uh… Welcome to our home, honey.”

He smiled, the expression coming across as charming without laying it on too thick. “Thanks. You have a really nice place.” He paused, then added with a grin, “And a really nice son.”

I laughed and elbowed him, sure I was blushing.

Mom laughed a little uncomfortably as she shook his hand. “Well. Um. Why don’t you boys come in?”

This was the part where she usually fussed over me staying at the house. She’d ask if I was sure I wanted to spend the money on a hotel, and she’d assure me she’d prepared the guest room just in case.

This time, she just asked if either of us wanted something to drink, then led us into the house. Out of habit, we both took off our shoes, which got us odd looks from Mom, but whatever.

As we headed into the living room, Nolan paused.

The hallway and living room walls were covered in framed photos of the family. A few grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins, but mostly my parents, my brother, and me. There was everything from Mom and Dad’s prom photo to my Navy portrait and shots from my brother’s college graduation.

Apparently one picture had caught Nolan’s eye, because he gestured at it and asked, “Is this you, Riley?”

I craned my neck to see he was indicating one from a wrestling tournament. “No, that’s my brother.”

“Oh.” He glanced at the picture again. “I wrestled too.”

“They let you?” my mother asked.

He turned to her, brow furrowed. “Well, yeah. Why wouldn’t they?”

“Well.” She stared at him innocently. “I… didn’t realize they let…” She gestured at me, then him.

I barely kept myself from rolling my eyes. “Yes, Mom. Gay boys were allowed on the wrestling team.” I looked at Nolan. “Were you even out then?”

Nolan blinked, then chuckled quietly. “Yes, I was out. And yes, my coaches knew.”

My mom looked stunned.

Nolan laughed and shrugged. “I couldn’t tell you to this day if they cared about gay kids or now. What I know is that I was undefeated for two seasons and brought home two state championships. They didn’t care if I had a clown fetish as long as I wrestled well.”

I snorted, both at his comment and my mom’s horrified expression.

She shook herself. “Well. Why don’t you two sit down, and I’ll go get Dad? He’s in the garage.”

Alone on the couch with Nolan, I closed my eyes and pushed out a breath. We’d been here less than five minutes, and I was already exhausted.

Strong fingers kneaded on the back of my neck, and I let myself groan. Not with arousal—with relief. At the contact. At the easing tension in my muscles. At the reminder that I wasn’t here alone this time. Nolan’s presence wasn’t going to make this visit easy, but I felt like I was more solid on my own two feet with him here. Like I wasn’t just pussyfooting around coming out to my parents (again) , timidly waiting for them to maybe accept it this time. I was forcing us all to acknowledge the elephant in the room, and as nervous and downright terrified as I was about that, there was a sense of calm, too.

Like going into combat, I thought. Like all the nerves and anticipation were taking a backseat to reality. This was what we’d trained for. This was what we were here for. Nothing left to do but knuckle down and get through it, hoping all the way for minimal casualties.

Footsteps coming into the room had me lifting my head and Nolan withdrawing his hand, though he didn’t pull away when I clasped it in mine between us.

Dad came into the room with Mom on his heels, and the flurry of emotions rushing across his face were hard to read and harder to take. He was happy to see me, sure, but there was some hurt there. Frustration. Disappointment. Disgust.

This is who I am, Dad. You’ve known it for a long, long time.

Why can’t you make peace with it?

But I kept that to myself and stood. My dad and I shared the stiffest hug we ever had, and he shook hands with Nolan.

“You in the Navy too?” Dad asked, clearly trying to be civil.

“Marines,” Nolan said.

Dad eyed him and chuckled. “And here I thought you were all still jarheads.”

I winced, thinking Nolan might not appreciate the joke.

To my surprise, though, he laughed, shrugged, and… blushed? “I went the jarhead route for a long time.” He ran his hand over the shaved side of his head. “But my boyfriend likes the high-and-tight look, so…”

Dad’s scowl was there and gone in a flash, and he managed a semi-comfortable laugh instead. As he took his seat in his usual recliner, he said, “Well, as long as it’s still within regs, I suppose.”

Nolan just chuckled.

I was a little taken aback by his answer, though. Was he just trying to needle my dad? Remind him we were together? Or…?

“I swear that’s my favorite part of being in the military,” I’d mused to Nolan early on when a couple of seriously hot service members had jogged past the taco rice café. “Everywhere you look, it’s sweaty, built guys in shorts and high-and-tights.”

“You have a thing for high-and-tights or something?”

“Are you kidding?” I’d laughed and gone for my drink . “They’re fucking hot .”

Not long after, Nolan’s haircut had begun to evolve from closely shorn to the high-and-tight he was sporting now.

I hadn’t thought anything of it except that he’d looked seriously sexy like that. Especially when the top had gotten long enough that I could run my fingers through it while he was going down on me.

Had he…

No way. He hadn’t.

“I’ve been there for two years,” Nolan said, and I shook myself out of my distraction. My brain caught up, and I realized one of my parents had asked how long he’d been on Okinawa. Unaware of me short-circuiting for a moment, he went on, “I was on Iwakuni before that.”

“So you like it over there?” Mom asked with what seemed like genuine interest, but rubbed me like someone trying really hard to pretend they weren’t uncomfortable. “I think I’d be nervous living in a place that’s so different from home.”

“It’s not bad,” I said. “Most people speak some English, and I’m learning enough Japanese to get by.”

Nolan said something in rapid fire Japanese.

I huffed and rolled my eyes. “I said I was learning enough to get by, not enough to…” I waved a hand at him.

He just snickered. I bumped my leg against his. He elbowed me playfully. That wasn’t an act—that was how we were at home, too.

But I suddenly remembered the act when I realized my parents were watching us with odd expressions. I shifted uncomfortably and cleared my throat. “You’ve seen the pictures I’ve posted, right? Okinawa is gorgeous.”

“It is quite lovely,” Mom admitted. “I think I’d just be nervous living in a foreign place.”

“What about driving on the wrong side of the road?” Dad asked. “I’m surprised that doesn’t cause accidents.”

“It’s only the wrong side of the road if we drive on the right,” I said. “It’s really not hard to learn to drive on the left. It was actually a little harder coming back to this side.

“Ugh, that’s the worst,” Nolan grumbled. “Every time.”

“So it’s not just me?”

“Nope. Not just you.” We shared a fist bump, and then I slid a little closer to him. This was closer than we ever sat at home unless I had his dick in my hand, and I liked it more than I probably should, but whatever.

I also liked it a little too much when he wrapped his arm around my shoulders.

To sell it. He was just doing it to sell to my parents that we were really a couple.

And that was why I liked it too.

At least that was what I told myself.