Lennon’s body relaxes, and I didn’t realize how uptight he was while I answered that question until the tension leaves him. He leans in and his hand finds my thigh. “You didn’t need to explain that, but I’m glad you did. I’ve been … curious, because until now I thought the only reason you weren’t together was because of your career. That maybe … I mean, you have matching tattoos, for fuck’s sake.”
“You saw that, huh?” I wrap my arm around his shoulders. “I don’t regret the tattoo or what it means. Ash was a huge part of my life. He’s part of me. But we had way more problems than my closet door. And even if I were to come out tomorrow, I’m kinda taken with someone else now.” Leaning in, I kiss the side of his neck. “Some gorgeous blond Clark Kent lookalike guy I can’t get out of my head.”
“He sounds hot.” His laugh is short and self-deprecating and then he turns serious. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can, but I might not answer.”
“Fair enough. I’m, umm …”
I get the feeling whatever it is, it’s serious, so I make him take another hit of the joint, which is almost finished.
He nods as if building the courage to say what’s on his mind. “Why doesn’t your family know how much pressure they put on you?”
Ah, shit. I grab the joint and wish there wasn’t only one drag left. Still, I savor it while I try to get my excuse together in my head.
“There are a lot of reasons.”
“Have you tried to explain it to them? Because the impression I get is they’ve never seen your side.”
“They haven’t. They live in a world where they see the activists on the streets, the pride parades, the fight for love, and they think that’s how it’d be across the board. Hell, Massachusetts was the first state to legalize same-sex marriage, so my brothers and I were brought up on it, if you know what I mean. But none of my family has experienced the bullshit of the industry yet—even Nic, Vic, and Leo, who are in sports. They don’t understand it’s not that easy. How can I be the asshole who yells at the people who love me so much they want me to have the world? Like I’m ungrateful for their support.”
“So, you grit your teeth and let them believe you have an issue with being gay instead of telling them what it’s really like for gay men in sports?”
“I tell them,” I argue, but it’s flat, because I think we both know it’s not the truth. “I tried telling them in the beginning. I think I suck at words or maybe at getting them to understand it’s not about being a coward but about risking the thing I love most. Like, Nic and Vic are in MMA, where you work your way up. You have your competitors and that’s it. I have guys in the AHL eyeing my fucking spot. My teammates are also my competitors. We all want first line, we all want MVP, and we all want to be the one to put the biscuit in the basket. I’m replaceable, and any shit on my career could be career suicide.”
Lennon smiles.
“What?” I ask.
“Considering you think you’re bad at words, you just explained it pretty well to me.”
Ugh. He’s right.
“Why can’t I talk to them like that?”
“I don’t know, but I think you need to find a way. Right now, there’s a whole lot of confusion going on in that house. Everyone thinks the only thing getting in your and Ash’s way was the closet door. They think the only thing between you and happiness is saying two little words at a tiny press conference. It’s about time you set them straight.”
“Or not so straight.”
Lennon lets out a loaded sigh. “Man, this conversation is too deep for my first time being high.”
I laugh harder. “Just wait until the conversation that’s coming after our explosions earlier.”
Lennon grumbles and rests his head on my shoulder. “I wanna sleep.”
“Ha. You’re all chill when you’re high. I think I like it. But uh, my legs are going numb, my ass is sore, and I think I have a splinter in my back.”
With a groan of protest, he moves away from me so we can open the trapdoor again to climb down and face the music.
This has been a good break from the family drama, but Lennon’s right. I need to try to explain my situation so they understand.
Chapter Twenty
LENNON
I’m not sure I like being high. First, getting out of the treehouse is fucking hard. Ollie looks up at me as I cling to the top of ladder and cry it’s too far to fall and I’ll die. In my defense, it looks super high. Like me.