Page 182 of When We Ignite

“If he were straight, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“No, we wouldn’t, because you’re my son, not my daughter.”

I laughed bitterly, the sound humorless. “No, because if it were a man dating a younger woman, it wouldn’t be that bad, right? But since it’s two men, he’s automatically a deviant.”

His face hardened. “Why are you defending him, Ethan?” His tone was ice.

“Because he’s my friend, and you’re accusing him of being?—”

“Is there something going on between you two?” he interrupted.

The room seemed to tilt. My hands trembled at my sides, and I stared at him, frozen.

“No, Dad. I’m not—” The words caught in my throat. The wrongness of what I was about to say coursed through me, but I forced it out anyway. “Gay,” I ground out, hating myself the second it left my mouth.

It felt like watching someone else speak.

His face softened—relaxed—and that made bile rise in my throat. He was relieved. Relieved that his son wasn’t gay, even though his son was currently getting fucked on the regular and desperately in love with the man doing it.

This was so fucked up.

“You know what? I’m not really up for the company,” I said, my voice tight, turning away before he could respond.

I walked out of the room, slamming the door behind me.

* * *

I felt like a zombie all through dinner.

Sebastian gave a speech. Everyone smiled and laughed, enchanted by him, while I sat there feeling like the world’s biggest fraud. My dad kept shooting me glances, and I avoided his gaze, keeping my eyes locked on the table or flicking toward Charlotte. I’d even asked her to seat me next to Henry, hoping it would help me feel less on edge. It didn’t.

Sebastian was magnetic, commanding the room effortlessly. He spoke with that unique cadence, his voice rich with confidence and charm. Everything about him screamed unapologetic. The way he carried himself, the way he dressed—stylish to the point of flaunting it. The endearments that fell so naturally from his lips, the way he joked about his sexuality in front of a crowd, completely unbothered by what anyone might think. He didn’t care if someone judged him. And it just made him shine all the brighter.

I, on the other hand, felt so unbelievably unworthy of him.

Henry asked me at least a dozen times if I was okay, but I didn’t want to talk. Not to him.

I wanted Sebastian. I needed him—his comfort.

After his speech, when our eyes met across the room, I saw his concern growing. He texted me, asking if I was alright, if something had happened. I told him to meet me in the kitchen after everyone went to bed.

Later that night, after my dad had fallen asleep, I crept out of the room and sat at the kitchen table, waiting.

“Hello, darling.” His voice broke through the stillness, and I smiled, standing to walk into his outstretched arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

I shook my head, the burning behind my eyes threatening to spill over. The weight of the day, of everything that had happened, came crashing down now that I was with him—safe. But I didn’t know how to start this conversation, how to ask what I needed to without hurting him.

I decided to rip off the Band-Aid. “How did you know you were gay?”

His arms tightened around me. “I always knew.”

“You told me you dated girls,” I countered.

“I did, but that was me trying to work around it. I was never really into it.”

“I was. I think. Maybe I still am. It’s just…weird, because nothing comes close to you. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been working with some serious denial, or…” I trailed off, unsure how to finish the thought.