Page 44 of Scrap Metal & Love Reforged

I glanced at my sister as I shoved my things into the corner of her bedroom. She didn’t look thrilled. I couldn’t blame her. Most people didn’t want to have rusted hunks of metal, flaking from a half-dozen colors of spray paint, dragged into their house. Seth hadn’t minded, but thinking of him now twisted my chest tight.

I couldn’t think about him. Ishouldn’tthink about him. It hurt, whether I wanted it to or not.

“I’ll clean up after myself,” I said. “I promise. And I won’t be here long at all. I’ll start looking for an apartment right away.”

How I’d get a down payment on an apartment was a mystery unless I managed to win that competition. Maybe I could pick upa couple of extra shifts at the shop. I’d figure it out somehow. I always did.

“I don’t see why it’s that big a deal,” Skye said, leaning her hip against the doorframe.

I sighed. I couldn't blame her fornotknowing. She didn’t realize I was gay, much less that I’d really fallen head over heels with the man I’d been staying with. “He lied to me,” I said.

I’d only told her that Seth was Godofdiscord and hadn’t told me, but she didn’t feel that it was the devastating blow I did. A surge of longing rose inside me, so strange and profound that I could scarcely put words to it. Maybe I ought to justtellher.

“I guess,” Skye replied. “I mean, maybe I just don’t get it because I’ve never had online friends. They don’t seem all that important to me. It sounds like the plot of—I don’t know—some dumb Hallmark movie or something.”

There weren’tthatmany gay people in Hallmark movies. I almost said it. If I’d been with Seth, Iwouldhave said it. My chest clenched again. I’d seen my share of those ridiculous movies. Skye’s favorite Christmas tradition had been binge-watching Hallmark movies, and I’d never gotten it. They were all written identically, probably by the same guy who writes soap operas. But they did always work out in the end. I respected my sister for wanting something predictable and safe.

Unlike Seth and whatever we’d almost been.

Don’t think about him.

“It isn’t going to work out that way,” I replied. “Besides, you’d be mad, too. You hate liars.”

Skye frowned and pursed her lips together. “I guess. But he’s just an acquaintance, isn’t he, like some guy you know who comes into the shop? And you met him and bonded online over talking about cars or something?”

I turned to face her and tried to decide what to say. I’d barelytoldher anything about what I’d told Godofdiscord/Seth.

“What about that girl you were interested in?” she asked. “I mean, you moving in would be too fast for her?”

“If you don’t want me here—”

“I do want you here,” she said immediately. “I’m just trying to understand. Lying is bad, and he shouldn’t have done it. But I feel like you’re more upset about it than you should be, enough to leave without any kind of plan? That’s not like you. Since you left home, you’ve been cautious to a fault.”

Her eyes narrowed. I'd forgotten how well my sister knew me. Hard to believe we'd once been close, before Jackson’s death ripped the family apart.

And that was my fault.

I hadn’t wanted to admit it for years, but since I’d made that stupid choice to trust Seth, I suddenly got it. I had a history of bad relationships. The only difference between now and then was that I’d trashed agoodrelationship then and gotten into abadrelationship now.

“I am upset,” I said quietly, “But I can’t tell you why.”

Skye’s face softened… with worry. Strange how she had her life so much more together than mine. As she ought to, since she was theoldersibling; I should be taking advice from her.

“Okay,” Skye said. “But you know you can tell me anything. Right, Troy? No matter what, I’m your sister, and I love you.”

“I know that,” I said. “Thanks.”

I could tell her. I took a deep breath to steady myself, as if by taking in more air, I could ensure I was making the right choice. She was my sister, and she loved me. And I knew that sheprobablywouldn’t throw me out, even if she didn’t like me being gay.

But God, that wouldn’t make anything easier, would it? Then, I’d have to spend my life knowing that my own sister couldn’t accept me.

I sank onto my bed and rubbed my forehead. The bed dipped as she took a seat beside me. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Whatever it is—whatever you’re not telling me, I can handle it. I promise. Even if you tell me Seth was secretly in the mafia, and you’re on the run or something.”

I laughed, partly from nerves and partly because—with a painful lurch—I realized that Seth would make that kind of sorry joke.

“Seth is more than some guy I met at the auto shop,” I replied.

The room quickly seemed horribly claustrophobic. It wasn’t too late to turn back, though. Not yet.