Part of the reason I hide myself away to read is that whenever someone catches me doing it, the mocking and prodding are incessant and juvenile, and I got sick of that shit very early on. It’s like the people in this town can’t stand the thought of someone enjoying something other than drinking, hunting, and watching sports as if they’re the only ‘approved’ male activities allowed. Don’t get me wrong, though. I like that stuff as much as the next guy. I’m just not rigidly stuck thinking that’s all there is to enjoy life.
I’m not saying I’ve orchestrated things to deliberately hide the fact that I enjoy reading, but I’ve definitely taken precautions to make it harder for people to drag me for it—which might be why my entire library is tucked upstairs in my attic. It’s fine. I prefer that to being harassed.
God, that must be how Luke feels coming back here, but on a much larger scale.
Shit. I swear I’m not bothered by the conversation with Luke. I definitely haven’t thought about it since it happened. Nope. Not once. Except maybe right now, while trying to focus on this novel, only to have my brain decide it’s theperfecttimeto relive the world’s most awkward exchange. Seriously, I am over it, but at the same time, I just don’t get it.
I’m probably the only person here who has no issues with the man being gay, and yet, somehow,I’mthe one he got mad at! Where’s the sense in that? Maybe his sexuality wasn’t the only thing that made him a black sheep, but that award-winning personality.
Okay. That was a low blow, even for me. I groan and drag a hand down my face. The standoffishness is probably a defense mechanism to protect himself. Here I am getting annoyed at him when he’s probably wary of trusting anyone in this ass-backward town. I would do the same if I were in his shoes. Still. What the fuck didIdo to him?
Whatever. It’s fine. I don’t even know the guy, so it’s not worth dwelling on.
I make it through a couple of chapters in my book before my alarm goes off, alerting me that lunch is over, and I pack up my stuff and head back downstairs.
There’s a commotion near my station, and already, I know this can’t be good. As I get closer, I recognize the guys surrounding Luke, and the pit in my stomach sinks. Frank Owens, Nick Dombrowski, and Henry Miller—the three biggest pricks in the shop.
Of course, it’s them looking to cause trouble. I should have figured it would happen since they’re the sort of hyper-masculine jerks who feel threatened by anything that falls outside their strict ideas of gender norms. They’re openly homophobic, claiming it’s in the name of Christ, while wearing it on their sleeves like it’s a part of their identities when, in fact, it’s actually a glorified excuse for them to be assholes.
Moving past them to get to my bench, I freeze as I overhear part of the conversation.
“I don’t know why you thought you’d be welcomed back here,” someone says. I think it was Frank. I snap my head up sharply, but they’re laser-focused on Luke, who seems to be trying his best to remain calm if the way he’s clenching his jaw is anything to go on.
I shouldn’t get involved, should I? Idefinitelyshouldn’t get involved. After all, it’s not really my fight, and Luke seems like he’s handling it fine on his own. Right? But then, all I can think about is my old high school parable, the one I replayed over and over again about what would have happened if I’d been around when everything went down, and I suddenly feel queasy.
“You’re an abomination. Yourkinddoesn’t belong here,” Frank spews, reaching out and shoving Luke with a forcefulpush. He stumbles back against his bench hard enough that it rattles.
Oh,fuck no.
My blood runs cold, and I react without thinking. I’m surprisingly calm despite the seething rage roiling inside my chest as I take a few steps over and drop my hand on Frank’s shoulder, gripping it tight enough that he yelps in pain. I don’t let go.
“Now, that’s not a very nice thing to say, Frank,” I hiss through clenched teeth, never letting up the pressure on his shoulder. He turns and looks at me with wide eyes, and Nick and Henry take a cautious step back. Good.
“Jesus, lighten up, Carlson.” Frank forces a laugh, but he’s unable to hide the wince as I squeeze a little harder. “It was a joke.”
“It didn’t sound like a joke to me.”
“Okay, fine! I’m sorry!” Frank bleats out as the pressure gets to be too much, and then I finally let go. He rubs his shoulder a few times, then flashes me a sinister glare, a devilish smile on his lips. “What, are you gay for him or something?”
The rage boils over. “God, what are you? Five years old?” I snap back sharply, louder than I mean to. “So what if I was?”
I realize what I’ve said, but I’m too pissed to care. They can tell they’ve crossed a line. It’s written all over their faces, and they’re cautious of what I’m going to do about it. It helps that I tower over them, at least three times their size. My height combined with my wide chest and broad shoulders tends to make me look intimidating, and this might be the first time I’m grateful for that fact.
By now, most of the shop has tuned into this shitshow, but it barely registers in my brain.
“Grow the fuck up, Frank,” I snap. “It’s 2023, for Christ’s sake. If you think for one goddamn minute that this is somethingto ridicule people about, then your cerebral cortex is more deformed than I previously thought.” Maybe it was too high-brow for this lot, but at least they know what an insult sounds like—even though I doubt they know what that part of the brain does.
“Come on, Ethan,” Nick pipes up nervously. “Lighten up, man. It was just a bit of fun.”
“No. You know, there’s one thing I won’t tolerate, and that’s being a fucking bigot at someone else's expense. I don’t give a shit what your personal opinions are, but anyone who wants to make this a problem for him will have a bigger problem with me.” I look at the other guys who’ve surrounded us, staring them down for good measure, and I can see wary recognition that I’m not playing around in many of their faces.
There are a few murmurs in the crowd before it disbands, and as I turn back to the three original perpetrators with a stern glare, they all visibly flinch. I never realized I had this much power to make grown men so nervous, but there’s a delicious feeling to that kind of ability. Maybe I should use it more often.
“If I catch any of you saying shit like that again, you’re going to be dealing with me,” I warn icily.
Henry and Nick don’t need encouragement to bolt like their lives have been spared, but Frank’s less willing to bow down in defeat. There’s a fire in his eyes as he shuffles away slowly, a challenge in his glare.
Good. Great. I’m surethatwon’t come back to bite me in the ass someday.
