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“Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
He’s so fucking stubborn, and something about it makes me smile. “This is my job, Caleb. It’s not like I have feelings for these people.”
“They have feelings for you,” he replies.
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s impossible not to,” he says, and my smile grows wider.
“Well, that’s on them. It doesn’t change anything for me. I just do my job, and I come home.”
“So, even if you do move into the house, you’ll still work here?” he asks, and I feel myself wincing at those words.
“Caleb…”
“I can learn to live with it. It’ll take me some time, but I’ll try.” The pleading sound in his voice hurts.
“I can’t move into the house. You know it’s not going to be that easy,” I say, pressing my face into his neck.
“Then we’ll take it slow.”
Letting out a huff, I reply, “How slow? And for how long?”
“Whatever it takes, Dean. I’m serious.” He presses his fingers under my chin and lifts my face until I’m staring at him. Gently, he kisses me, savoring the tender moment.
When we finally pull apart, I get the nerve to ask what I’ve wanted to know. “When did you realize you were into guys?”
He stiffens at my side. At first, I think he’s going to avoid the question, but after a sigh and looking a little uncomfortable, he answers. “Probably…college. Before Briar, I wasn’t really interested in anyone. I looked at guys the same way I looked at girls, but somewhere in my head, I think I knew I’d never act on any of those feelings. Then I fell in love with her, and I was actually…relieved. I know that’s wrong, but it meant I never had to face those feelings. I could just forget about them.”
“Did you…forget about them?”
He turns and faces me. With a smirk, he replies, “Of course not. Instead, I started to feel really bitter and frustrated.”
“I understand.”
“And Briar was always enough for me. I never needed anyone else, but I underestimated just how hard it is to be myself in this world.”
Pride fills my chest as I stare at him, seeing how far he’s come. Leaning in, I press my lips to his again. When I open my eyes, he says something I didn’t expect to hear.
“I’m sorry about what happened with Isaac, but that was a long time ago, and I’ve changed.”
Hearing him bring up Isaac sets my blood on fire. I rise from his chest, moving into a sitting position. My back is to him as I let those memories come flooding back.
“Why would you bring that up?” I ask.
“Because I don’t want you to hate me anymore,” he replies, sitting up against the headboard.
With a wince, I reply, “I don’t hate you.”
“You did.”
“I was mad,” I argue. “You pushed me out of his life,” I mutter. “Out of all of your lives.”
He leans closer, touching my shoulder. “I did it to protect my brother.”
Spinning on him, I stare into his eyes. I hate that we’re digging this up now. It feels like the one conversation we’ve avoided and maybe because it was so long ago and we’ve changed, but I’m still harboring more scars from what happened than even I know.
“Protect him?” I reply, appalled. “It was because ofyouthat your dad kicked him out.”
