Dawson couldn’t.
“He’s got games. Road trips. He’s busy.” Dawson heard himself making the case and knew how thin it sounded. “But he hasn’t answered a single text since that night.”
“That’s what happens when you teach someone that being close to you is dangerous,” Justin said without cruelty. He could say the hardest thing in the room and make it sound like a weather report. “He’s not punishing you. He’s protecting himself. You taught him he had to.”
The jukebox cycled to a new song. Someone at the bar laughed. Dawson picked at the edge of the table with his thumbnail, a strip of varnish that had started to peel.
“You need to tell your family,” Justin said.
Dawson’s hand stopped. “I will.”
“Not next month. Not when it feels right. Because it’s never going to feel right, and you’re going to keep finding reasons to wait.” Justin held his gaze. “Maybe there’s still a chance with Leo. Maybe there’s not. But unless you’ve decided you’re going to be alone for the rest of your life, there’s always going to be someone. And you’re going to do the same thing to the next guy if you don’t fix this now.”
“Justin—”
“Why are you so sure they’ll react badly?”
The question caught him off guard. He’d spent so long treating the answer as obvious that he’d never had to defend it. His family would—what? Disown him? His mother, who asked careful questions about dating? His father, who changedthe subject? Becca, who noticed everything, nudged without pressing, and always made sure he had a plate at Sunday dinner?
“Wyatt,” Dawson said.
“Wyatt’s traditional. Traditional doesn’t mean cruel.” Justin leaned forward. “And Ethan? You think Ethan’s going to have a problem with this?”
Dawson didn’t answer.
“Ethan, who’s been trying to set you up for ten years because he wants you to be happy. And every time you shut him down, he drops it. He doesn’t push. He just tries again next time. I’m pretty sure he figured it out a while ago and now he’s doing it just to see if you finally snap and tell him the truth.” Justin shook his head. “Your brothers aren’t stupid, Dawson. You never date. You turn them down every time they try. They’re just waiting for you to man up and be honest with them.”
The bar noise settled around them. Dawson sat with Justin’s words, the untouched beer, and the strip of varnish curled on the table between them.
“Tell Ethan. Tonight. Go home and tell him. Because you can’t ask Leo to trust you if you won’t trust the people who already love you.”
Dawson looked at the beer he hadn’t touched. He picked it up, drank half of it in one pull, set it down.
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay?”
“I’ll tell him tonight.”
Justin nodded. He didn’t smile, didn’t clap him on the back, didn’t make it a moment. He slid out of the booth, dropped cash on the table, and put his cap on straight.
“Drive safe,” he said, and walked out. “If shit goes south, which it won’t, you know the code to the back door.”
“Thanks, man.” Dawson felt like he was going to be sick. Now that he’d promised Justin he’d talk to Ethan, he couldn’t back out.
Ethan's truckwas in the driveway, which meant Dawson was out of reasons to wait.
He pulled in behind it and killed the engine. Then he sat there, because his hands wouldn't come off the wheel. His usually steady hands were shaking now. He'd managed to say it once tonight, but Justin wasn't family. Ethan had known him his whole life. Saying it to Ethan would make it real.
He made himself get out of the truck before he could think his way back out of it.
Inside, Ethan was on the couch with a beer and his phone, boots still on, cap turned backward. He looked up when Dawson came in.
“Hey.”
“Hey.” Dawson hung his keys on the hook. Took his boots off. Stood in the entryway with his jacket still on and his hands at his sides.
“You eat?” Ethan asked.
