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“I’m glad. You…you deserve it.”
My throat thickens unbearably, making it near-impossible to speak, much less swallow.
I chew my lip, considering him, then finally manage to get the words out. “The flag…at the bar. Has it…has it made any sort of…” I wave a hand. “Difference.”
His face seems to soften, and he nods. “I like to think so. Some didn’t like seeing it at first—the regulars, you know?”
I nod.
“I told them they could get the fuck out.”
My eyes widen.
He shrugs. “Some did. Some grumbled a bit about it, only shutting up when Gavin backed me up.” He rolls his lips together, once more drawing my attention to his piercing. Fortunately, this time, my awareness of it is only background noise. “They learned real quick we weren’t joking around, and since then…” He lets the words hang.
“Seriously?”
He nods, and his pale blue eyes twinkle with something akin to pride. “We get people from all over now, and yeah, it’s mostly ’cause of the band. But that’s…that’s exactly why it’s so important, you know?”
I nod, searching his eyes.
He swallows with an audibly click. “Like I said, it’s not much. But…it’s something.”
It’s something alright…
Fuck, it’s everything.
And for a split second, I’m thrown back to last June, just shy of two months before Morris came to drop the final bomb on our lives.
Just like Mason had promised to me the night I came out to my parents, he surprised me with a coming out party. Nothing crazy. Just him, me, and a slightly confused Waylon who Mason didn’t realize I had yet to come out to until that moment. Mason was high—as he always was back then—and while he felt bad, he got over it pretty quick when it was clear Waylon wasn’t going to be a dick about things.
For a moment, I thought he would be.
But then he… he hugged me.
It’s the only time in my life I can remember Waylon hugging me. I don’t even really know where it came from. It seemed to shock him too, making him all red and pissy-looking in a way that was just straight up hilarious.
It lightened the moment instantly.
“Jer?”
“Huh?” I say, blinking back to the present.
“Where’d you just go?”
I clear my throat, and study his clear baby blues, wondering if I should even bring it up. It was one of the only bright spots I can remember from that awful time. But will he remember it like that? I don’t know.
Still, I end up admitting, “I was thinking about the party you threw me. You know, after I officially came out.”
His eyes widen, and for a fraction of a second, I see something almost like fear flash darkly across his eyes.
“Sorry,” I say, wincing. “I know that was a bad t?—”
“It was a good day.”
I stare at him.
“Well, it was good all things considered. And I probably have Vicodin to thank for that, so I’m s?—”
