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It was easier to pretend I was straight.
Chris had sat me down to talk just after the funeral. We hadn’t even moved to the wake. I was spaced out, staring at the place where the hearse had driven Dad’s coffin away from the chapel. He’d told me to go and find a party that weekend. If I got my dick sucked, it’d make me feel better. He’d said that at my age, he was already fucking the girls in his year level. If I did that, it’d pep me up, help me feel better.
But I wasn’t even remotely interested in sex. I’d just wanted to fish and swim with Ash. I was a kid, for fuck’s sake, but he’d treated me like a man.
It had clicked then. He considered me one of the guys. Uncle Kev had done the same, trying to show me what a man did. He’d hammered it into me—don’t cry. Don’t be weak. Men were strong. Men supported their women, and Mum was my responsibility now.
Tom talked to me about doing what was best for his family. Now I looked back on that conversation and my gut lurched, nausea washing over me. He’d held himself up as an example. He’d let his piece of arse on the side go. He’d sacrificed a hell of a good time in the sack with her because getting busted fucking a wild woman would hurt his wife.
But even though their examples weren’t stellar, they were my family. Uncle Kev was Mum’s brother. He still looked out for her, renting the other half of his duplex to Mum at a reduced rate. Tom and Chris were Dad’s childhood friends. The four of them, Uncle Kev included, were the awesome foursome, completely inseparable. They made me feel important. They taught me how Dad would have wanted me to grow up and how to make them proud.
And they were proud of me.
I sighed and banged my head against the desk. Fuck me, I was tired.
There was a thunk, and I looked up to see that my phone had slipped off the book I’d had it propped on. I palmed it and exhaled, dialling Mum before I could stop myself.
“Hi, honey, how are you?” she greeted me. Mum was a ray of sunshine, and my chest warmed immediately on hearing her voice.
“I’m good, Mum,” I lied. “I’m just checking in.”
“Everything is good here, but it’s been too long since you’ve popped over,” she chastised me.
“I know,” I sighed.
“Come for dinner soon.”
“I will.” I agreed. Awkwardness settled over me. I didn’t do awkward—or silences with Mum for that matter. I could always talk to her. What the hell was wrong with me?
I asked, “Do you need anything done around the house?”
I could almost see her waving off my concern. “One of the lights is out in the kitchen, but I can’t reach it. If you could bring a ladder with you, I’d appreciate it. What’s happening in your world, Ry? It’s unlike you to be so quiet.”
“I’ve just been working. Zali’s doing a big project at the moment, so it’s taking up a lot of time. I’m trying to support her.”
“You work too hard. You deserve a break. Zali should see that. The hours she has you working are ridiculous.”
“Mum,” I warned, my voice holding an edge. “It’s literally my job.” This wasn’t helping. I bit back my frustrated groan. I didn’t want to argue with her, but that’s where it was heading.
Her voice was gentle when she said, “I want you happy, Ry. I want you to meet a lovely girl and have a family. You’re only young, but the longer you wait to start looking, the longer it’ll take to find her.”
How could I be mad at her when all she wanted for me was the thing she wanted for Dad? How could I break her heart by telling her that kids were a definite no, but I’d trade them for three other guys?
I huffed out a silent laugh that held no humour.
I settled on, “There’s time.” But I knew better than most that time was the one thing we didn’t know if we had.
“Are you happy, Ryder? Really happy?” Mum asked, surprising me. She was so damn perceptive. She’d seen straight through my poor excuse for calling her and knew exactly when I was fobbing her off because I didn’t like the direction our conversation was headed.
I sighed, unable to keep it in, the weight on my chest paralysing. When I boiled things down, I wasn’t happy. I was lonely. I wanted more than what I had. I wanted what Zali and Flynn had found in each other. I wanted friendship and love. I wanted hot-as-fuck sex.
I didn’t want to be Tristan and Ezra, or even Zali and Flynn, wasting years they could have been together.
But that’s exactly what I’d done. I’d wanted Flynn and Zali, so I’d put both in the friend zone to protect myself. I couldn’t in good conscience wish that things had been different. If I’d been with Zali, she and Flynn might never have gotten together. I certainly wouldn’t have understood her wanting to be with multiple men without having seen it work first. We probably would have imploded spectacularly, and I would have lost them both.
Now, with Ezra and Tristan added too, it was even more complicated.
That was the problem in a nutshell—a poly five-way relationship was so fucking uncertain. Was the risk worth taking? Should I try for something more and disappoint everyone around me? And it would be a disappointment. If it worked out, I wouldn’t be able to keep up the barrier between myself and the other guys—I’d cave—and my family, the men I looked up to, wouldn’t be able to look at me again in the same way. If it didn’t work out, I’d lose all of them anyway.
