Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67801 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 339(@200wpm)___ 271(@250wpm)___ 226(@300wpm)
“Mortality, being a crappy dad, snakes, dentists, Darcy…the list goes on and on.” He circled his wrists. “But you…I think you’re afraid of getting hurt by people you care about, Noah. You know I’m not going anywhere. I tell you all the damn time and you trust me, right?”
“Yeah,” I said slowly.
“Maybe it’s time to think about trusting someone else too.”
“It’s not that easy for me.”
“I know, but maybe it’s time to try.”
“Maybe.” I gave him a watery smile. “You’re good people, Easton.”
“So are you.” Easton leaned in and kissed my cheek. “I’m going home. Issy’s making dinner. You’re welcome to join us.”
I shook my head as I walked him to the door. “I like having a stomach lining, but thanks.”
He pulled his TUMS from his pocket. “I’ve got that covered.”
“Hey, Eas? Thank you. Maybe someday I’ll finally get this adult thing down so you won’t have to worry about the third kid you never signed up for,” I said in a breezy tone.
“We’re family, Noah. It doesn’t matter if we signed up for each other or not. The important thing is…you’re not alone.”
Maybe I wasn’t alone in the world anymore. But something wasn’t right.
I missed Thomas and I wasn’t sure how to grapple with the mental block that insisted I wasn’t right for him.
I tried to keep busy with work and chores, but every day that week was a more tragic version of the day before. My shit-tastic Monday turned into a crap-tastic Tuesday, then a fuck-tastic Wednesday. I spilled color on a client’s rainbow-studded tote bag, mixed up appointment times, and forgot my favorite shears at home.
It only made sense for my ex to make an appearance at practice Thursday evening. Like the cherry on my poop sundae of a week.
I spotted Stefan across the field with his phone glued to his ear. He alternately paced or stood still, observing our drills like a scout on the lookout for talent. I idly wondered if that was his role in his new show. The scout, the parent, the frustrated coach. If I ignored him, he’d go away.
But I had a very odd cocktail brewing in my head, like a collision of past and present that had a chorus of demons screaming at me to “do something, anything.” I didn’t know what, though. Stefan and his story, my parents, Thomas…
Fuck.
I ran like a maniac, kicked the ball harder than necessary, and hogged it like a miser. In other words, I played like a teenager with a raging case of testosterone overload. In the big leagues, my coaches would have assigned copious laps. Coach Kevin just gave me side-eye as he reminded the team about an upcoming scrimmage next week and practice on Saturday.
“If you can’t make it, please let me know.” Coach tilted his chin my way before adding, “Also, we have a couple of new players joining the squad this weekend. One with experience, the other is a newbie.”
“Another newbie?” Jeff groaned. “I’m tired of teaching adults how to kick a ball. Give him to Noah.”
I flipped Jeff the bird, then guzzled water and slapped a few high fives as I gathered my belongings. I spotted Stefan, chatting with Jackson. His proximity should have been enough to light a fire under my ass. But something shifted inside of me. That voice telling me to “do something, anything” took on a new meaning. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to run this time.
I didn’t talk about the aftermath of coming out. That was a hard time. I didn’t talk about the journey I’d been on. I’d been protecting myself. And that was okay.
But maybe I’d forgotten to embrace the good things in life. Maybe I’d forgotten to give myself credit for being brave when I was at my weakest. Maybe I’d gotten so used to carrying all of my fucking baggage for so long, that I forgot what it felt like to just be…me. The me I was with Thomas.
For the first time ever, I wondered if that was a mistake.
Maybe it was time to confront the past.
“Stefan.”
He whirled toward me, flashing an overly eager movie-star grin. “Noah! Hi, how are you?”
And he called himself an actor?
“Good.” I stepped a few feet away from Jackson and a group of our teammates deliberating over some new hotshot goalie’s wingspan. “You’ve been traveling?”
“Yeah, my schedule is screwy. I’ve been in Toronto for weeks. It’s gorgeous there in spring and…”
I nodded cordially while he griped about his schedule and line changes. Stefan had gotten more handsome with age. All traces of softness had hardened into sharp planes. That magnetic charm I’d been drawn to years ago was stronger than ever now. With a few juicy roles under his belt, I bet he’d go far. I bet he could be something special. An out-and-proud success story.
Kids needed to see strong LGBTQ people making a difference. They needed to see queer people who looked tough like Stefan and smart like Thomas and—