Dad slams on the brakes. “You’re not what?”
“I said it to break up with Chastity, and then suddenly the whole town knew. I didn’t mean for it to get that far, but I didn’t correct anyone. I had to decide between letting the town think I was gay or an asshole. And to be honest, I never cared people thought I was gay.”
It’s Dad’s turn to laugh manically. “Oh my God, that’s gold. You’re straight? But Damon …”
“Ah, no, not entirely straight, but I’m not gay. Definitely not gay. College was—”
“Don’t need to tell your old man the details.”
I laugh. “Well, up until I met Damon, I was ninety-nine percent sure I was straight. He came home with me as a favor, because both Chastity and Mom were on my case about my boyfriend who didn’t exist.”
“Well, I’m not going to be the one to tell your mother. She loves Damon. Wouldn’t shut up about him for a week after you left.”
“I thought you’d be pissed I lied to you guys.”
“I don’t like that you thought you couldn’t come to us, but, well, we don’t have the option of being hypocrites here. And you know us—we love you no matter what. We didn’t care when we found out you were into lads, and I don’t care now. No matter who you end up with. Man, woman, woman who used to be a man …”
I chuckle. “Could happen.”
“We just want you to be happy. It’s all any parent wants.” Dad pulls up to the motel. “And that’s what we are. We’re still your parents. Take all the time you need but try not to let your mother worry too much. We barely see you as it is; I don’t want this to come between us and you more.”
“Wait, you think I needed to get out of there because of you? Fuck no. Da, I’m confused and feel rejected but not by you or Mom. I wish you told me sooner, but you couldn’t know how I’d react. Can you tell Mom I’m not mad at her? I just …”
“Need to process everything. That’s the reason we kept putting off telling you. We didn’t want to put you out or confuse you. We almost told you when you were eighteen, but then you came out, and we figured it wasn’t the time. Don’t exactly want your kid to say “I’m gay” and then turn around and tell him he’s adopted. From there, it was never the right time. Maybe we should’ve ripped the Band-Aid off when you were a teenager.”
“Maybe Cheri should have realized being sick isn’t an excuse to finally face a responsibility she should’ve dealt with ages ago.”
Dad opens his mouth to say something but I cut him off.
“I’m not saying I hated the way you raised me or you’re bad parents, but this revelation gives me answers to questions I’ve been asking myself for years. And now it’s convenient for her, she wants to get to know me? It leaves a bitter taste in my mouth.”
Dad purses his lips. “Take your time in dealing with this, but we don’t know how advanced her condition is, so keep in mind you don’t want to become Cheri. Don’t leave it until it’s too late.”
“I’ll literally be back in the morning, Da.”
He nods, but I don’t think he believes me. “I’ll see you in the morning then.”
Matt’s Lambo is the only car in the parking lot of the motel, so I head straight to the room it’s outside of.
Matt peers through the thin curtain to check who’s knocking before he opens the door. “That was fast.”
“You have no idea. I’m crashing with you tonight.” I push my way into his room. “Sweet, two beds.”
“What am I missing?”
“My family dropped a pretty big bombshell on me, and I don’t want to deal with it.”
“There’s a minibar if you need it.”
“I think I need to be sober to deal with this one. You know how growing up the ultimate sibling insult was ‘You’re adopted’?”
“I may’ve said that a lot to my younger brothers and sisters.”
“My sister never made that joke. She’s eight years older than me. Turns out, she couldn’t throw that in my face, because it’s actually true.”
Matt’s eyes widen. “Oh shit. You just found out?”
“My aunt is my mother and my mother is my aunt.”
“Fuck that.”
Yeah. He said it.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DAMON
My head slumps on my desk. Criminal adjudication will be the death of my degree. All I need is a pass, but it’s not sinking in. It’s not even a subject I’ll use, but I need it to graduate.
Seven weeks. Seven.
My phone dings, and I’ve never been happier for the interruption. Only, when I see it’s a text from Stacy with the thumbnail of an article about Matt Jackson, my heart sinks. Something tells me I don’t want to open that link.