Page 30 of Scrap Metal & Love Reforged

Probably not.

I sighed.

“I’m happy for you,” Skye said. “When do I get to meet her?”

God, not for a very,verylong time. Not ever, maybe.

“Someday,” I said. “I don’t want to rush things, you know? Our parents can be a bit much sometimes.”

Skye huffed. “You’re telling me. Mom can be suffocating.”

I smiled to myself. Skye said that, not realizing she was just like Mom. It was pretty obvious where Skye gotherpersonality, and not from Dad.

“She was asking about you, by the way,” Skye said. “You could at least give her a phone call, you know. It’d make her happy.”

“I’ll call her later this week,” I said.

Not happening.

“Do it, or I’ll remind you,” Skye said. “I’ll be like your own human AI device, sending you reminders to call your parents.”

“I don’t doubt it,” I replied dryly. “Where’s your ‘off’ switch?”

Skye pulled into the parking lot. “Well,” she said, shooting me a broad smile, “I just want you to know that I’m proud of you. I know it’s hard for you to branch out and make new friends, so I’m happy that you’ve found someone you like.”

“Thank you,” I replied. “I’m happy I have, too.” And I instantly regretted opening my mouth.

Even if I couldn’t imagine exactly how it would work out. I was still in the closet. Even if I wanted a relationship with Seth, there were some clear boundaries that I was unwilling to cross. And I didn’t know how long Seth would be willing to have a relationship like that. I wasn’t sure if I could keep doing that either.

I got out of her car and shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket. Before my parents moved us all, we’d lived in Bluehaven. Back when Skye and I were kids—and this restaurant was still here.

I nudged my sister with my elbow, feeling a wave of nostalgia sweep over me. “Do you remember that time I pushed you into the fountain?” I asked, nodding to the now significantly larger pond.

She smirked. “You were a serious pain in my butt. I hope you know that. I told all my friends how awful it was having you as a brother.”

Okay, so I didn’t really have a defense to that. I had made my sister’s life harder than I had to, and our parents had always taken my side over hers. 'Boys will be boys.' In hindsight, that really wasn’t fair because most of the time, Skye had been in the right. She was the angel, the one who never bothered anybody. I was the spawn of Satan.

And Lance was…

Fine. The older brother who learned to drive first and always got roped into taking Skye and me places. And he always hatedit. Complained that he was forced to be our babysitter and unpaid chauffeur. But Mom and Dad always made him relent.

“You also threw breadsticks at me,” she pointed out, “No matter how many times I begged you to stop, you just kept it up. You were an asshole. You do realize that.”

“Oh, I do. Hindsight, though. At the time, I was just doing my job, you know, ‘Little Brother’.”

Skye rolled her eyes as we crossed the tile patio. Her heels clicked smartly, accompanied by the dull thud of my tennis shoes. “That’s one thing I do like about Bluehaven,” she said. “It never changes. It’s nice to come back and know where everything is.”

I guess that was pretty cool. But sometimes, change can be good. I glanced at my sister, thinking about just dropping the bombshell; telling her I was gay and calling a waiter before she could formulate a response.

Although, considering we were in an Italian eatery, maybe the better approach would be to order a bottle of wine, get her sloshed, andthenspring it on her.

As we were seated, I grabbed the menu right away, to have something to do with my hands. Otherwise, I’d fidget, and damn Skye would ask why. But it was so hard to untangle all these feelings and emotions. I felt guilty fornottelling her, but I couldn’t bring myselftotell her. God, this was more difficult than it had to be.

“Maybe we should invite our parents down,” Skye mused. “For Christmas or something. I think they’d like to see the place again. Don’t you?”

“I guess.”

The last thing I wanted right now was our parents coming down, but maybe by Christmas, I’d have sorted everything out. Literallyeverything. And then, I’d come out of the closet, and everything would go well.