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CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Emory

“Can someone grab the cherry cobbler?” Mom called from the picnic table in our parents’ backyard. “I forgot to bring it out, and it’s my Emmy’s favorite!”

Ah, god, the dreaded dessert she still made for me even though I didn’t want it.

I shot her a smile. “I’ll get it.”

Grandpa gave me the stink eye. Right. Had to stop doing that. People-pleasing habits—especially the ones related to Mom—were hard to break. She’d been gracious when I came home with Dad two weeks ago and we all sat down for a heart-to-heart about my sexuality, my love for Gray, and the way I’d twisted myself up because I didn’t want to disappoint them.

“Oh, honey, all I ever want is for you to be happy,” she’d said.

She couldn’t hide her sadness, though. I knew it wasn’t about me being with men, specifically. Mom was open-minded. But Allison was like a daughter to her, and I’d taken that away.

I knew it was right for me to break out of this mold, to live my own life, but my heart ached for her. Letting go of the urge to make my mom happy at any cost was really hard.

Gray came through the sliding door as I reached it, the bowl of cobbler in his big hands. “I got it. I love this stuff.”

Mom brightened. “Really? That’s something you and Emory have in common, then.”

“Um, Mom…”

“What?”

I hesitated, palms growing clammy. Why was it still so hard to do this? “That was Adam’s favorite, actually. I just kind of…ate it.”

Her eyes widened. “No! I would have remembered that. And all these years, you’ve been…” She trailed off. “You don’t like it?”

My heart dropped at her hurt tone, and I had to fight the urge to claw back the words. To tell her I was just kidding. I loved cherry cobbler, really!

“It’s my fault,” I said. “You were always so happy to make it for me, and you put so much love into it.” I shrugged helplessly. “I didn’t want to ruin that.”

“Oh, hon.” She shook her head and patted my cheek. “You’ve got to stop doing that.”

“I’m working on it.”

She smiled. “Good. More for Gray, then.” She paused, eyes narrowing. “Assuming you’re not just saying that to please me?”

“I gave up on pleasing other people a long time ago,” Gray said with a chuckle. “I’ll happily gobble it down.”

“Good! If you’re going to be part of the family, we need to start on the right foot. Full honesty from now on.” She caught my dad’s arm as he passed by. “Don’t you agree, Jim?”

He looked baffled. He probably hadn’t even heard the conversation. But like any good husband of twenty-plus years, he nodded and smiled. “Of course.”

We finished setting the table, and everyone crowded onto the bench seating. Grandpa was across from me and Gray, along with cousin Shayla and her mom—my mom’s sister—while Allison and Matteo sat down beside us. Dad was on a stool next to the grill, still finishing up some meat, while Mom fluttered around the table, making sure we all had napkins and utensils because none of us was adult enough to handle it, apparently.

Grandpa leaned forward and patted my arm. “I better not see you eat a bite of that cobbler.”

I chuckled. “I won’t. I told Mom.”

“Good man. You’re getting there.”

“Baby steps, right?”

Gray put his hand on my thigh, giving me a supportive squeeze. “You’ve got this. All in good time.”

Mom gave Allison and Matteo a couple of wistful looks, but she smiled fondly at me and Gray too, so I knew that this would take her some time too, but she was trying just like I was.

“So, there’s a fundraising gala next Wednesday, and I put your name down for it months ago, Emory,” Dad said. “Allison, I assume you’ll be there too?”

“Sure will,” Allison said. “We want to expand our grants to a community emergency resource so we can do more to help people like Brenda Morrison at Jerkers.”

That was a great idea. I loved helping Brenda, but the bank only had so much it could offer people in those situations. One reason I hated dealing with foreclosures. Usually, it was far too late to make a difference in people’s lives.

“The foundation should partner with the bank,” Shayla suggested. “Maybe we could help people before they’re in crisis.”

“That’s a great idea,” Dad said, sounding impressed. “Emory, you should work something up for me.”

Shayla’s face fell. I hesitated. “Maybe Shayla could work on that. It was her idea.”

Dad hummed. “Well, work on it together, if you like, but you’re the VP?—”

“And actually, I can’t go to the gala,” I cut in before I lost the nerve to speak up. “I have plans with Gray.”

“Surely, they can wait,” Dad said.

I looked at Gray, unsure. He shrugged. Damn. He was leaving the ball in my court. Gray wouldn’t be upset with me if I missed his tattoo session, but I would regret it.

I wet my lips. “Sorry, it can’t. Gray is getting a tattoo. It’s one that all his brothers have, like a family code, and it’s pretty important. I need to be there.”

“Surely, you don’t need —” Dad started.

“Jim,” Grandpa said, raising his bushy brows, “don’t push him. Haven’t we had enough of that?”

I drew a breath. “No, it’s okay. I meant to say I want to be there. It would mean a lot to me.”

Dad frowned. “Why?” At Grandpa’s glare, he held up his hands. “I’m genuinely asking so I can understand.”

“Well.” I held out Gray’s arm so they could see some of his ink, including the portrait of his foster mom. “These aren’t just random images. They have meaning to Gray. They tell pieces of his life story. What he’s lost. What he loves. What he believes about himself.”

Gray smiled faintly. “That’s true. I’ve got a tattoo for my parents, as well. I lost them when I was six.”

“Oh, you poor thing,” Mom said.

“Some of it’s just beautiful art, though,” I continued. “Imagine doing art not on a canvas but on someone’s skin. Imagine your art just walking around, becoming part of their life story? It’s incredible. People look down on tattooing sometimes, but there’s real artistry to all the different styles. There’s traditional, neotraditional, realism, watercolor, and so much more.”

The table had fallen quiet while I rambled on. My face heated. “Sorry. I nerded out, didn’t I?”

“It’s cute,” Gray said with a chuckle.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you so excited about something,” Mom said. “How did you learn so much about it?”

I shrugged. “I read up on it after Gray and I met. Even did a few tattoo designs in my sketch pad for fun.”

“Emory has always loved art,” Grandpa said.

“Oh, I know,” Mom said. “He gives me the loveliest paintings for Mother’s Day every year. I always look forward to that.”

“He sure got all the talent in the family,” Dad agreed.

Allison nudged me. “Tell them about school.”

“What about school?” Dad asked.

I shrugged. “I got enough credits for a degree in art as well as business. I just didn’t think it would go anywhere.”

Dad’s eyes widened. “What are you saying? You want to do something more with it?”

“I don’t know about that. It’s not like there are art jobs falling from the sky. Besides, I’ve got my position at the bank.”

Grandpa clucked. “Is that what you really want, though, Emory? Or did you just do what was expected?”

“Um, well… I guess I never gave it much thought. Dad worked for you, and I always knew I’d work for him. It was just what we did.”

“When my grandfather started the Gold Community Bank, it was a real blessing,” Grandpa said.

I nodded, feeling guilty for not appreciating it more.

“The town was even smaller then, so there weren’t a lot of jobs,” he said. “It was a good way to build something for our family and for future generations. You may not know this about your dad, but he loved coming to the bank and shadowing me.” Grandpa chuckled. “He told everyone he saw how he was gonna be an important banker one day.”

Dad groaned. “I was a silly kid.”

“A silly kid who knew what he wanted,” Grandpa said. His eyes shifted to me. “If it’s different for you, Emory, that’s okay. It’s called Gold Community Bank because it expanded beyond our family. We’ve got other employees there now, and anyone who lives in Riverton could help us manage it. Just because your family owns it doesn’t mean it has to own you.”

I looked uncertainly between Grandpa and Dad. One of them looked happier about this pronouncement than the other. “But who would?—”

“Hello?” Shayla’s hand shot into the air. “I know my name’s not Gold, but I’m still family, and I’d love to move up at the bank.” She paused. “ If you ever want to leave, that is.”

I snorted at her eagerness. There was one person who wouldn’t be sad if I took another path, at least.

“I don’t know what I want to do,” I said.

“And that’s okay,” Grandpa said. “You’ll figure it out, and whatever it is will be okay. This whole family has spent too long locked in a cycle of grief. We all deserve to find happiness wherever we can.”

“I couldn’t have said it better myself,” Mom said approvingly.

Grandpa nodded. “And that’s why I’m going to propose to Stella Hargrove, down at the pharmacy. We’ve been sneaking around for years.”

Mom gasped. “Finally!”

“About time,” Dad agreed.

I grinned at Grandpa across the table. My emotions ran close to the surface, swinging up and down as I wrestled with figuring out what I wanted my future to be.

It was too much to process all at once. I had Gray by my side. I had his love. For now, that was enough. But eventually…

Well, maybe I really would leave the bank and pursue something else at some point. But like Gray had said, all in good time.

For now, I was happy to join the rest of the family in teasing Grandpa.

“I guess Allison and I are better at keeping secrets than you.”

Allison smirked. “Yeah, but then you went and let the cat out of the bag. After that throwdown with the sheriff, the whole town knows you’re dating Gray.”

Dad winced. “Sorry.”

“I’m glad they know,” I said, leaning in against Gray. “But I’m sorry if it messed up your dad’s election campaign.”

“Nah, I’ve got the sympathy of a jilted woman now,” she joked. “Matteo has a steady job, thanks to Gray and his brothers giving him a chance. We’ve decided we’ve got nothing more to hide. If you could be brave enough to tell your family about Gray, I knew I needed to do the same with mine. Dad was a little peeved at first, but he got over it.”

“Good, you deserve to be happy,” I said.

“So do you.”

I nodded. “You know, I think I might be starting to finally believe that.”

“Now, then,” Mom interrupted. “What is your favorite dessert, Emory, since it’s obviously not cherry cobbler.”

“I can answer that,” Gray said. “He loves cheesecake.”

“Oh, okay, I can do that. Cherry topping or?—”

“No!” I shouted.

Everyone laughed.

“Looks like you’re getting the hang of this thing,” Grandpa said with a chuckle.

“Caramel drizzle,” Gray informed my mom. He’d apparently been paying attention on our last dinner date.

“Mm. That does sound good,” my mother agreed with a smile. “I’ll have to look up a good recipe.”

“Oh, my mom’s got a great one,” Allison said. “Soooo creamy.”

The conversation resumed around us, wandering from recipes to idle gossip about the neighbors, to Allison and Matteo’s plans to move in together.

I’d been honest with my family, and the sky hadn’t fallen—but my world still felt as if it’d shifted forever.

Gray nudged my side. “Breathe, golden boy. Everybody loves you.”

I met his eyes. “They do, don’t they?”

He smiled. “And eat up before I steal the cucumber salad off your plate because that shit is addictive.”

I laughed and stabbed a cucumber slice with my fork and raised it to his lips. He took the offering with a hum of pleasure that made me think of what else we could get up to tonight. I shifted a little, trying not to let my mind travel too far down that road while around my family. But damn, last night, he’d pinned me flat to the bed and fucked me in these deep, languorous strokes, maddeningly slow and yet so perfect I’d nearly cried when I came in long pulses of pleasure that I thought might never end.

He’d whispered in my ear how much he loved me, and I’d known then that whatever came next, I could handle it because I’d have Gray beside me.

Always.

“Are you trying to please me?” he asked under his breath.

“Maybe a little.” I winked. “But then you pleased me a lot last night.”

Gray’s eyes turned hot. “In that case, I’ll allow it. As long as you let me do it again.”

“Let you? I’ll be demanding it. I know how to ask for what I want now.”

He chuckled. “Uh-oh. I think I corrupted you.”

I grinned evilly. “Then you’ve got no one to blame but yourself.”