Page 57 of Backward Motion

“I’ll drink my wine from a mug like every other sane parent.” Brian held the bottle aloft. “Cheers to old spots and old friends.”

“Cheers.”

Brian took another gulp and ground the toe of his sneaker into the dirt. “I’ve been meaning to ask—if I hadn’t barged in on you and Sam that night at your apartment, when were you going to tell me?”

“I thinkneverwas kind of the plan,” Connor confessed. There was a rustle in the scrub beside them, and a sparrow hopped out onto the grass.

“Interesting.” Brian passed him the bottle. “I can’t help but feel slighted. Thought we had enough history you’d feel comfortable sharing those things with me.”

“And I thought you knew I’d rather burn down some poor man’s shed than deal with my repressed emotions.”

“What does Sam think of that?”

“Sam and I are over.”

Brian turned to get a better look at him. “How did you manage that?”

Connor took a pull from the bottle, ignoring the smart of shame. “The same way I’ve managed to fuck up everything else in my life.”

“I call bullshit, my friend,” Brian said with a shake of his head. “That night I came by, I’d never seen you like that. Like you’d found the courage to speak your truth. He gave you that, didn’t he?”

Connor stared down at the label on the bottle, a lump in his throat. He remembered how good it had felt to stand beside Sam and tell Brian they were together. Connor nodded.

His friend splayed out his hands. “So, what happened?”

“I couldn’t tell my dad,” Connor said, not expecting the tightness in his voice. He cleared his throat. “I can’t do it. It would break him. And he’s barely holding himself together as it is.”

Brian nodded and reached for the bottle. They sat watching as the streetlights began to turn on in the town below.

“Sam’s spent so long being open about who he is, and the last thing I wanted was for him to have to pretend. But it’s like there’s me...” Connor held one hand out to the side. “And then there’s me.” He held out the other hand in the opposite direction. “And I can’t get the two to occupy the same space.” There came a low call from a bird in the trees, followed by an echoing call in response. “How am I supposed to expect someone to deal with that when I can’t even figure it out myself?”

Brian twirled the neck of the bottle in his fingers. “Jules and I met in college, right? And I convinced her to move to Oakdale when we couldn’t afford to live in Omaha anymore.”

“What’s this, life trivia?” Connor teased. “I know the story.”

“Hear me out. The guy I was in college was nothing like the dipshit I was growing up here. The me she knew was straightlaced and put together, got good grades, paid his bills. So we move back, and I’m desperate to make sure she doesn’t figure it out—thinking if she does, she’ll see me for what I really am. Then we had Matty, and I see his life stretching out ahead with all these potential twists and turns, and I’m like, I would love this kid if he joined a cartel or invaded a small island nation. I would love this kid if he never left our basement and couldn’t hold down a job and stole money from my wallet.” Brian looked at Connor with shining eyes. “Who knows where we’ll end up? I’m not equating being into guys with joining a cartel, but I like to think the people who love us do so regardless of all the rest. In the end, I told Jules, and she was like, ‘Meh, I figured you for a stoner anyways.’ The point is, sometimes we’re more fixated on the fear itself than how that fear is messing up our life. You not telling your dad—is it worth living with this guilt? Is it worth you having to pass on these amazing possibilities—someone like Sam?”

Connor stared at Brian wordlessly.

“I’m not telling you what to do, man,” Brian was quick to add. “But the two of you together looked pretty great.”

Connor’s chest hurt. “I really like him,” he choked out.

Brian handed back the wine. “Then make sure you’ve thought this through before you give that up.”

Connor tipped back the bottle and took a long swallow. He thought of Sam curled up beside him on the couch, his sweet, milky scent, the way he slipped his hand into Connor’s for no particular reason.

Brian lay back in the grass and stared up at the darkening sky. “Then again, you moping around town has its benefits. At least we’ll always have a default babysitter.”

Connor extended his leg and kicked Brian’s shin with the heel of his boot.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

“Do you have your medication?” Sam’s mom asked. The concerned frown was back.

They stood by the front door with Sam’s bags in a pile in the hallway, waiting for his dad to come downstairs to take him to the airport. Sam had aced the phone interview with his sister’s contact and was flying out to Chicago that afternoon to meet her in person for a second interview. He figured he’d stay on for a few days and get a feel for the city and what might be his new home. But despite the success of the call and the very real possibility that he’d land the job, he felt wooden, as if going through the motions.

Sam tried not to let the annoyance show. His mother had been strongly against the move and believed he would be better off at home under her watchful eye. She was disappointed when he told her he’d left his job at Finnegan’s and had accused his sister of meddling.