Page 102 of Making It Burn

“That’s why I’m here.”

“Not here.Somewhere...”He ran a hand through his hair.“Somewhere private.Or—not private exactly, but—”

“Somewhere away from work?”I suggested.

“Yes, exactly.”He grabbed his coat from the hook behind his door.“I’m meeting a client over at the Monroe Building in ten minutes, but I’ll be free in about an hour.Can you meet me on the Canal Walk over by 18th Street?Say, an hour?”

I hesitated.An hour gave me time to back out, to change my mind, to run.

But it also gave me time to prepare.To figure out what I wanted to say.

“Okay.”

“Thank you.”His voice was rough.“Beau, I—”

“An hour,” I said, cutting him off.“We’ll talk then.”

He nodded, and I walked away before I could do something stupid like kiss him or cry or both.

* * *

The Canal Walk was nearly empty.Most people were at work or doing last-minute holiday shopping, which left the riverside path quiet and peaceful.The James River stretched out beside us, gray-green and slow-moving, and the late afternoon sun filtered through bare trees, casting long shadows across the pavement.

I found Mason standing near a bench, hands shoved in his coat pockets, his breath forming small clouds in the cold air.When he saw me approaching, his whole body seemed to relax.

“You came,” he said.

“I said I would.”I stopped a few feet away, maintaining distance.“Why here?”

“You said you wanted to talk somewhere that wasn’t work.”Mason gestured at the path, the river, the empty benches.“This is public.But private.Quiet.Neutral ground.”

“You’ve thought this through.”

“I’ve thought about nothing else for three days.”

We stood there for a moment, not quite looking at each other, the silence stretching between us.

“You wanted to talk,” I said finally.“So talk.”

Mason took a breath.“I came out to my father.”

Whatever I’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.“What?”

“Monday night.I went to his house and told him I’m gay.”Mason’s hands were shaking.“I’d been thinking about how I’ve spent years being terrified of his reaction without ever actually asking him how he’d feel.”

“And?”My voice came out barely above a whisper.

“He was fine with it.Better than fine.He apologized for being emotionally distant.For making me feel like I couldn’t be honest with him.”Mason’s eyes were bright.“He said he was proud of me.”

“Mason—”

“I should have been brave enough to know that the people who matter would accept me.But it scared me.And I let that fear control everything.”He stepped closer.“Including us.”

I wrapped my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite my coat.“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I need you to know that I’m done hiding.I’m done pretending that the most important thing in my life doesn’t exist.”Mason’s gaze locked with mine, and my heart began to pound faster.

“And what’s the most important thing in your life?”I asked, even though I was terrified of the answer.