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Forty-Three

Isaac

I f I thought my life was chaotic before, I had no idea. My little coming out onstage went viral, really viral. Since then, I’ve been swamped with podcasts, interviews, photo shoots. Lola keeps showing me these fan edits of me that make me blush. She says my courage and vulnerability made me sexier to the general public, which I did not expect.

But I like it.

There was some backlash—because of course there was—but I found it pretty easy to drown it all out. Everyone who had something negative to say about me and my sexuality just yelled at each other in their own void.

The next day, the phone calls came in. Country star legends reached out to offer their support. Politicians, movie stars, other musicians. It was the wildest two weeks of my life. For a whole seven days, my name was trending on social media.

Since then, things have started to die down a bit, which is a blessing. Song lyrics are coming back to me again. Even with Jensen gone, I hear the music because I know he’s alive. He’s getting better. He’s coming back to me. Admittedly, the songs I’m writing these days are heavier than normal, but if I’ve learned anything in my career, it’s that the fans love to hear what’s real. Everyone is just craving connection, and that’s the beauty of art. Even country singers have the words to explain things so profound and personal.

Ever since Jensen texted, I haven’t been able to relax. I know he said he still needs time, but I have a feeling that’s just him giving me time. He thinks I need to focus on my tour and all the media attention, but what I really need is to remember that I’m a real person with a real life.

I’m not really Theo Virgil.

Amazingly, things with my family have been great as well. My new lock screen is a photo of me and Abigail, and her drawings now cover the small fridge on the tour bus. I talk to my brothers nearly every day.

Dean and I play Grand Theft Auto together while I’m on the road, which is a great way to reconnect with him without having to address the fact that he’s now banging my brother and sister-in-law.

They’re all coming to my last show in Austin tonight, and I can’t wait to see them. Afterward, we’re hosting a huge party at my house with the band and crew and our families and people from the label.

While I’m walking back from the stadium after a dress rehearsal, I get a text from my mother. It’s a link to a video, which takes me by surprise. Especially when I see Jensen’s face on the screen. My heart hammers in my chest as I click the link.

It takes me to a clip of him in his church, and I assume for a moment that it’s an old clip of him preaching from before…which would be strange for my mother to send it. But then I watch for a few moments…and realize this was from today.

He paces confidently across the stage, looking handsome in a pair of black slacks and a tight blue button-down shirt. His hair is longer than I remember, and the muscles through his shirt seem more defined.

“In Leviticus, it tells us that man shall not lie with another man, for that is an abomination.”

My skin grows hot and my eyes widen. Glued to my phone, I watch him as he stops pacing and faces his congregation with the Bible in his hand.

“ But, my friends, as we have seen through history, so much of the Bible has been twisted and misconstrued over time through translations and misunderstanding of the world then versus now. But I have spoken to God, and like you have, I feel his love. For me. For who I am .”

“Holy shit,” I mutter. Pausing between the building and my tour bus, I watch the video and my pulse quickens. He speaks with such conviction. Such passion and confidence. It makes my heart swell in my chest to hear him.

“Tell me, if we know that God created all creatures in his image…” He pauses, looking down with contemplation. As he gazes up, I see the emotion in his eyes. “Am I any less in his image than any other man or woman?”

It’s happening , I think as Lola steps up behind me. “Everything okay?”

I turn my phone toward her, and she stares at it in confusion.

“Listen to this,” I say with a quiver in my voice.

“My friends, I have struggled with my sexuality, and I am here to tell you I struggle no more. Yes, I am a gay man. Yes, I am a preacher. I have faced moral infractions the same as every person in this room, and yet… When I speak to God, he listens. When I reach for his love, I feel it.”

“Did he just…?” she mumbles, and I nod with tears in my eyes.

“He’s really doing it.”

She wraps a hand around my shoulders and squeezes me tight as we watch the rest of Jensen’s sermon. It’s beautiful. Probably the most beautiful thing I’ve ever listened to. Lola and I make our way onto the tour bus and prop the phone up on the table as we listen to the rest of it.

We can see a few people getting up and leaving his sermon, but what’s more important are the people who stay. The warm bodies filling those pews who nod along with Jensen, who offer him their support, and, at the very end, pray with him.

I can see in the video that Adam, Caleb, Luke, and my mother are among them, and it chokes me up to see them. My family and his family are together in that church.

The video cuts off at the end, and it makes me miss him so much it hurts. I wish I were there for him so I could hold him after that and tell him how stunning it was.

The fact that Jensen plans to continue preaching makes me love him so much more. He’s not willing to sacrifice his faith for his sexuality or the other way around, even when others try to convince him he has to. He sees the good in spirituality, even when I couldn’t. Because there is so much. I walked away from my faith years ago because I was convinced it was the only way to stay true to myself. But Jensen represents everything I wanted when I was in the church. He doesn’t just see the good—he is the good.

After watching his video, I text my mom back and thank her for sending it and for going to support him. She immediately replies.

You’ve got yourself a good one.

With a smile, I reply.

I know.

After that, I open a text thread to him. Biting my bottom lip, I type something from the heart. I don’t want to push him—I just want him to know that I’m here and that I support him.

I just watched your sermon. That was so incredible, Jensen, and I’m so proud of you. You make that church a better place. In fact, you make the world a better place. I love you.

Nervously, I hit send.

“Fifteen minutes,” someone calls after a quick knock on the greenroom door.

I look over at Lola and our expressions both carry the heavy weight of nostalgia and sadness. This is our last show. Appropriately, it’s in Austin. My entire family is out in the stands, and while I’m sad about the tour ending and this phase of my career coming to a close, I’m anxious about what comes after this too.

I’m eager to see Jensen again. We haven’t spoken since that one day last week when we sent each other selfies on the day he came home and the small message of support I sent him after seeing his sermon online. I’ve given him space while he’s dealing with his own coming out. I’m hoping that means he’ll let me focus on our relationship after this.

Lola moves toward the door, but I grab her arm and pull her in for a hug. She stumbles into my arms and lets me squeeze her in a tight embrace.

“What’s this for?” she mumbles against my shirt.

“I just want to say thank you for always being there for me.”

She squeezes me back. “Of course, cowboy.”

After our hug, we head out of the greenroom to meet the rest of the band. As I put my hand in the middle, I glance around at all of their faces. I’m filled with so much gratitude that they’ve stuck with me through so much.

I try to keep our last pep speech light and not too cheesy. We’ve already been through so much together.

“Thanks for being the greatest band on the planet,” I say with tears in my eyes.

After one final celebration, we take the stage with more energy and enthusiasm than we ever have before.

The crowd is wild. Even through my monitor, I can hear them singing along. With my limited view through the lights, I can see them all dancing and celebrating with us. It’s incredible.

During the first half of the set, I peer out into the crowd whenever I can to see if I can spot my family. They’re in the VIP section and each time I barely make out someone new. Sadie is the easiest to spot with her vibrant red hair and the fact that she is dancing and jumping the most.

I pick out Sage too. She’s tiny and blends in with Adam’s tall frame, but I can see her tattooed arm held up as she sings along to the songs.

During each of the songs, I feel a sting of pain. For one, this is the last time we’ll be performing them in this show. I want to believe I’ll have another tour in the future, but sometimes these things aren’t guaranteed.

The other reason, of course, is because I miss him. I miss the beginning of the tour when I could feel him watching with pride, knowing that he would be waiting for me after every show. I try to imagine he’s out there. I swear I can feel his eyes in the crowd.

Regardless, I play for him.

As we reach the middle of the set, where the band takes a break and I pull out my stool, I sit on it and smile at the adoring fans who cheer for me.

“I just want to take a moment,” I mumble into the mic. “And savor this feeling on our last night.”

The din of cheers and applause reverberates through the stadium, so I pull out my earpiece and just take it in. My face is on the jumbo screen, so I can see and feel the tears in my eyes as I soak in this moment with my fans.

“This tour has been so incredible,” I say, hearing my voice echo back to me. “It’s been such a ride, and I have every single one of you to thank for supporting me and loving me along the way.”

As usual, a few of them shout their adoration for me and it hits home that I might not hear this for a while.

“You know what?” I say, holding my hand over my eyes to block the lights. “Can we shine the lights out there so I can see the crowd? Just this once? I want to see your beautiful faces.”

I squint up at where the tech crew is stationed. They take a moment, but eventually, they flip the lights so they’re shining on the crowd. The view of my fans jumping and cheering for me takes my breath away.

While I sit on the stage and stare at them, I think about how far I’ve come. I think about the day I left my home and ran away in search of a dream like this. I wanted to be more. I wanted to prove to a bitter old man that I could still accomplish so much, even if I was a sinner. Even if I wasn’t the son he wanted.

I found adoring fans who love me.

I found a good man who loves me.

But maybe more important than all of that is that I’ve reached a point in my life where I love me.

I didn’t reach this milestone out of spite. I reached it because I wanted it. Because I deserve it. Because I love myself enough to work for it. To fall and stumble and mess up along the way but to keep going no matter what.

Squinting out at the VIP area, I wave at my family and they scream so loud I can hear them above the others. My mom, Adam, Caleb, Luke, Dean, Sadie, and Sage. They’re all here—for me.

There’s a familiar, robust man with a mustache near my mom, and my gaze catches on him before traveling to the tall man beside him.

All at once, the blood drains from my face as our eyes meet.

The crowd melts away. I don’t hear a single clap or cheer. I see no one else. It all turns to a far-off echo as my eyes soak in the sight of him.

Jensen is smiling proudly, clapping those large hands for me. He’s in the VIP area with my family, who are all now looking back at him. My face is still displayed on the enormous screen, but I’m no longer smiling.

There’s not a single thought in my mind except for him. No stage. No fans. No show.

Scrambling, I drop my guitar on the floor and take off in a sprint toward stage left, where a security guard is staring at me in shock and confusion. I practically leap off the four-foot platform and onto the floor, security swarming me in alarm.

The cameras are following me as I run up the aisle between fans who are screaming and jumping for me, but I only have one goal in mind.

He’s here.

When I turn the corner between sections and see him standing in the aisle with wide eyes laser-focused on me, my legs take me even faster. I sprint up the aisle toward him, and there is no hesitation. There are no questions in my mind of decorum or discretion. None of that matters.

As I launch myself into his arms, my hat flies off my head and his arms wind tightly around me. The sound of the people in the stadium is deafening. Pure pandemonium.

But here, in his arms, it’s quiet. Every sensation is a revelation. The strong crush of his arms. The familiar scent of his skin. The cadence of his heart pounding against mine.

I don’t know exactly how long we hold each other, but it occurs to me in our embrace that Jensen might not be ready for public affection. A hug might be all right, but anything more could be triggering, so I don’t move for a kiss.

But he does.

Taking my face in his strong hands, he pulls my mouth to his and crushes our lips together. Distantly, I hear the crowd screaming again. Home run, touchdown, big game win type of cheering.

It’s not a hot kiss, at least not as hot as I plan to make it later, but it’s the best kiss of my life. As good as the first one. That night in a hotel, when everything felt so new. When he cornered me in an elevator for just one more . This one beats every single kiss we’ve shared combined.

As we pull apart, I smile at him, and he tearfully grins back. Even if he did say something, I’m not sure I’d be able to hear it. So we don’t talk with our voices; we talk with our eyes instead.

And they say, I love you.

It occurs to me at this point that I’m in the middle of a concert and tens of thousands of people are staring at us. I’ll probably have a whole fucking meeting tomorrow with my publicist about this, but I don’t care. Nothing could get me down now.

After squeezing his hand, Jensen mouths, “Go,” as he nods toward the stage.

Reluctantly, I pull myself away, but even as I’m running back to the mic, I’m grinning like a fool. I climb back up to where I belong and jog over to the stool and the guitar discarded on the floor.

With shaking hands, I put everything back in place, including my earpiece. Then, I sit back down on the stool and grin sheepishly at the crowd.

“Sorry about that,” I mumble into the mic. “My boyfriend is here.”

The crowd cheers again, and I honestly wonder how they have any voice left at all.

Strumming quietly on the guitar, I start his song, and I set out to make it the best version I have ever sung. The last time on this tour.

And just before I start singing, I find his eyes through the bright light. With my lips near the mic, I smile. “This is for you. You know who you are.”