Page 22

22

JAKE

H oly shit.

What was happening? Mason was gone, the kids were running like monkeys in my yard, and my stepdad was staring at me as if I’d grown a second head. And I didn’t know what to say. Or do.

Lie.

Keep lying. Reiterate the story Mason made up about checking out my property and inviting himself for dinner. That would indicate that we were friendly at the very least. That was okay, right? Smitty would buy it, or he’d go along with it…for now.

And soon, none of this would matter because this thing between us had a finite shelf life, so who cared?

I opened my mouth, but Smitty beat me to it.

“Mason?”

“Uh, yeah.” I swallowed hard and gestured toward the remains of our dinner. “Sure you don’t want something to eat?”

Oh, no. My voice squeaked.

Smitty lifted a brow, quietly shooing Nathan off to play with his sisters and perching on the edge of the bench. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess you don’t hate him anymore.”

“Um…no. I like him…fine.” This was where I should add that he was still annoying and that he’d barged in, demanded food, and made himself at home. The lies wouldn’t come. Neither did the truth, though.

And there was something kind of terrible about lying to a man who’d come out in his thirties, married a man, adopted three children, and made a whole new life for himself. My silence was more than dishonest, it was…scummy.

Smitty inclined his head. “I figured you’d come around. Mason is a good guy.”

“Right.”

“You look nervous, Jake,” Smitty observed quietly. “There’s no need to be.”

Tell that to my skyrocketing heart rate. “I’m just—fuck it. We’re friends…good friends, and we have been for a while.”

“Cool.”

I didn’t have to say anything else. He didn’t expect it.

“I like him,” I admitted, licking my dry lips.

Smitty dropped onto the bench across from me. “Does your dad know?”

“That I’m bi? Or that I’m attracted to my former enemy? It’s a no to both,” I reported, swiping my hand through my hair.

“ Hmm .” Smitty watched the kids running around the yard.

“Don’t say anything to him. Please.”

Smitty frowned. “I wouldn’t. That’s your story to tell, but…why wouldn’t you want to come out to your dad?”

“’Cause he’ll worry about me.”

“True. Does um…does Trinsky feel the same way?” He winced. “You don’t have to answer.”

No doubt my silence spoke loud and clear. God, this was awkward.

“Being friends with him is enough of a scandal.” How was that for a non-answer?

“Ahh, well…if you feel like talking to anyone, I’m here.” He patted my hand. “So’s your dad. Let’s go, kiddos!”

Smitty marched the kids out like well-trained troops while I stood by, unable to string together a cohesive sentence.

I picked at my kabob, staring at the wood-grain picnic table, my mind whirling at top speeds. Someone knew about us. Someone I trusted. The sky hadn’t fallen, and no one had died. Don’t get me wrong, it still felt dangerous and unsettled, but I wasn’t afraid and I wondered what, if anything, that meant.