Chapter 12 #2
“Ah.” I scrubbed my hands down my thighs again before crossing them over my chest. My nervous tells were driving me the fuck insane, but I couldn’t seem to stop them.
I glanced in his general direction. “The real reason I came here today is . . . well, I started dating someone, and it’s getting serious. I think I love him.”
Lars didn’t blink at the pronoun, though I suspected he wouldn’t. No doubt he had people seek him out precisely because he worked with queer people. “You ‘think’?”
I clutched my hands tighter to me, eyes flicking to his then slightly away again. “I do. I love him. But I can’t tell him that.”
Lars frowned. “Why not?”
I sighed, uncrossing my arms and folding my hands in my lap.
I deliberately relaxed my shoulders, trying to calm down even as I looked away.
I wasn’t entirely successful. “I’m not out.
I’ve known I was gay since I was eleven, but I’ve only ever told my sister and my now-deceased father.
My prior hookups know, of course, and my partner—person—Daddy—” Shit.
That had slipped out. I cleared my throat, adjusting in my seat. “Anyway, he knows, too.”
I felt more than saw Lars soften at the mention of Daddy kink. “What term do you prefer for him?”
Of course he’d home in on that. “I call him Daddy. I’m not one-hundred-percent sure of anything else.” I dared a glance up from where I’d been staring at the brown, tan, and light-blue carpet in the corner of the room to meet his gaze. “Is that okay?”
He didn’t hesitate before he nodded. “As long as you are both of age and everything is consensual, you’ll get no judgment from me.”
“We are. And it is.”
“Good. Now, why can’t you tell him you love him if you’re not out?”
I sighed again, fiddling with my fingers in my lap.
I looked up at him this time, holding his gaze lightly.
“He . . . he is so bold and bright and beautiful. He doesn’t deserve to date someone in the closet.
He needs to be loved out loud. Which I told him a month ago. But I still can’t seem to just do it.”
“Do what?”
“You know, come out.”
Lars hummed. “What does coming out look like?”
I paused, frowning. What an odd question. And yet . . . what did it look like? “I suppose . . . maybe an announcement of some sort?”
Lars’s expression didn’t give anything away, but that sounded ridiculous to my own ears.
“Okay, that makes no sense.”
He smiled slightly. “What could coming out look like? What would you want it to look like?”
I stared at the wall behind him and considered it for a minute before I started verbalizing my thoughts. “He asked me to go to our high school reunion as his date.”
Lars smiled kindly. “How does that make you feel?”
“Terrified.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“And . . . cherished. Chosen.”
“Is that something you long for?”
I pursed my lips, considering his curious phrasing once more. Long for?
“Yes,” I replied without another moment’s thought. “I don’t think I realized it until now, but I’ve always wanted someone to choose me, cherish me, see me. I’ve been doing so much for everyone else my whole life; I just wanted someone to acknowledge that and be there for me the same way.”
My breath caught at the words I’d never expected to utter, never even knew I thought.
Holy.
Shit.
I’d barely been here fifteen minutes, and I was already having a revelation.
I’d never considered myself a person who wanted to be in a relationship. But when Lars had spoken the question aloud, his words had resonated deep in my soul, and I knew I’d had that desire all along.
Lars just sat there, a knowing yet kind smile on his face, as my brain worked it out. And the words came tumbling out.
Forty minutes later, my eyes were swollen from crying and my throat hurt from talking for so long without a break, but my heart was lighter.
Atlas wanted me, was willing to be there for me, to be the Daddy I’d wanted, needed, craved, and, yes, longed for since I knew Daddy/boy relationships were a thing.
I needed to accept the care and attention he was offering by claiming him openly, publicly, without fear.
It was time to finally be brave, to come out after nearly three decades in the closet. Atlas was worth it. I was worth it.
***
That night, after scheduling another appointment with Lars for next week, I made my way to Timbers & Tallboys, a local bar near the high school that had changed owners more times than I could count.
Atlas was out tonight with coworkers for a birthday or something, so it gave me time to take in the local scene I’d largely ignored for decades. Cloudy would be proud.
As I walked through the door, my gut clenched at how busy it was. I’d noticed reunion attendees were starting to trickle into town over the past few days, so seeing an old friend wasn’t entirely out of the question. I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not.
Guess it depended on the friend.
Swallowing my nerves, I sauntered up to the counter and climbed onto a stool at the far end of the bar.
I nodded at the bartender, who introduced himself with “Mose” and an up-nod, and ordered an amber ale they had on tap.
Mose mumbled out a “got it” and set to pouring my drink—expertly, by the way—and I decided I liked the guy. Grump recognized grump.
I’d seen him around town, which I only realized once he’d set my drink down on a coaster with a cordial grunt, if such a thing existed.
Vanessa had mentioned in passing that he was sort of the town pariah—I thought she said a statue was somehow involved, one he’d destroyed or torn down or something.
While I supposed I could see it from an outsider’s perspective, I could tell there was more to the story.
I’d bet he had a lot more going on under the surface than people realized.
I sipped my beer as I watched the other bartender—a blonde, objectively attractive woman who looked to have about a decade on me—serve a customer a few seats down. I had to look twice when I saw who it was.
The words tumbled out of me before I could stop them. “Brad Willson?”
The man I’d known in high school—one of the closest friends I’d had back then, actually—turned my direction, and a wide smile stretched across his face when his eyes landed on me. “Miles Johnson?”
I nodded, a smile that I couldn’t quite help spreading on my own face as Brad moved a few stools down to sit next to me.
“Miles, buddy, how’ve you been?” he asked once he was seated, drink back in his hand. A whiskey, from the look and smell of it.
“I’ve been good. How about you?” I tipped my head at his drink. “Celebrating being back in town for the reunion?”
He took another sip then smiled. “Nah, but I actually am celebrating. I just got a promotion back in Chicago.”
I raised my glass to clink against his. “Congratulations! At least, I assume that’s a good thing?”
Brad nodded, setting his glass down on a napkin then playing with one corner.
“It’s good. To be honest, I’ve been running myself a bit ragged the past decade or so, trying to earn my keep and get some credit with the rest of the coaching staff.
It seems they’re finally willing to give me a shot—and I’m excited for the opportunity but also sort of ready to settle down. ”
I raised an eyebrow. “With anyone in particular?”
Though I hadn’t seen my friend for twenty years, I could tell his chuckle was nervous. “Not at the moment.”
I frowned, studying him. He was hiding something below the surface, but it wasn’t my place to pry. “Well, you seem good, anyway.”
“Thanks. You, too.”
I sniffed, the thought somehow hilarious.
“Or . . . not?” he asked.
I took a long swig of my beer to figure out how to reply. Eventually, I decided he wouldn’t want the truth. “It’s too much to get into here.” I waved my hand around the eclectic, cozy bar.
Brad settled into his stool. “I’ve got nothing but time, man. Hit me with it.”
My mind flew through the myriad of conversations I’d had with Claudia where she encouraged me to make friends then my conversation with Lars today. I still wasn’t sure what coming out looked like, but with Brad? He’d always been cool, and people didn’t change that much. He’d be a good start.
I hoped.
“Uh, okay. Well, I started dating someone recently. My first partner, actually.”
“Congratulations! Who’s the lucky . . .” His eyes narrowed at me. “. . . person?”
I felt my cheeks flushing. Well, that was fucking embarrassing. “It’s Atlas St. James.”
I could see it took him a minute to place the name, but Brad’s eyes widened when he did. “Oh!” Another second passed as Brad processed the information, then a huge smile spread across his face. “I remember him. He’s—wait, is that the right pronoun?”
My heart warmed. I’d suspected Brad would be accepting, and I was glad to have that confirmed. “It is. And he’s . . . well, he’s amazing.” My smile was genuine but slipped quickly.
I felt Brad’s eyes on me. “That’s awesome, but . . . why does your face look like that?”
I snorted. “Like what?”
“Like someone stole your cat.”
“I don’t have a cat.”
It was Brad’s turn to laugh, and it bounced around the busy bar. “Alright, you got me there, but seriously, what’s wrong?”
I sighed, giving in. “I’m not out.” I glanced over at him, caught his gaze. “As gay.”
Brad’s expression didn’t give anything away, but I knew what he was going to ask as soon as he’d opened his mouth. “Oh, I had no idea. Did you know in high school?”
“Since I was eleven.”
This time, he gasped. “You knew all throughout high school? Damn . . . I know we didn’t hang out a ton, but I hope you felt like you could have told me if you wanted to.”
I waved him off quickly. “No, it wasn’t like that at all. I didn’t come out to anyone. Only my sister and Atlas know. And now you and my therapist as of today.”
He paused before saying, “I have to say I’m glad you told your therapist before me, but, truly, thank you for trusting me with that.”
I sipped at my warming beer for something to do. “You seemed trustworthy.”
When he didn’t respond, I glanced over at him. He was studying the napkin under his drink much more closely than he needed to. His next words were so low I barely heard them above the din. “I can’t believe you knew that early.”
I blinked and leaned forward, suspecting I knew what he was talking about but needing him to confirm it. “What do you mean?”
Brad cleared his throat, voice clearer. “I didn’t come out as bi until college.”
My eyes searched the shiny bar top. “How did it go?” I hated how small my voice sounded, how it shook. Fear had a funny way of rearing its ugly head when I least expected it.
“There were a few bumps along the way, but most people were cool with it—or just indifferent.”
I stared at my nearly empty glass, at the final dregs of beer on the bottom. “And the people who weren’t?”
Again, when he didn’t answer right away, I turned to him. He was staring at me this time. “Can I give you some advice?”
I nodded. Fuck knew I needed it. “Please.”
“Some people suck. Some people will react poorly. But that’s how you know who’s gonna stick around and who you can let go.”
I huffed a laugh. “That easy?”
He smirked. “Not easy. Simple, but . . . not easy.”
I nodded, my head swirling. Could coming out really be that simple? Could I just date Atlas freely, out in the open like he deserved, and say “fuck off” to everyone who wasn’t cool with it?
“It can be really freeing, though. Like us, just talking about it so casually at our local bar? I know we haven’t talked for twenty years, but I want that for you.”
I smiled. “Thanks, man. And also, let’s not go another twenty years before we talk again, okay?”
He grinned. “I’d like that.”
We exchanged phone numbers but chatted for a bit longer.
I gave him some advice on helping his mom fix a railing at her house, he filled me in on what he’d been doing for the past twenty years, and I told him where to get the good coffee while he was in town.
I finished my beer, paid my tab, then headed outside to my truck while I contemplated everything he’d said.
Maybe seeing Brad here tonight and the conversation we had was the Universe’s way of telling me I was ready to come out.
What was I waiting for? I’d never had a good reason to tell the world I was gay—or, maybe more accurately, androsexual, a term I’d come across after talking with Lars earlier today that meant I was attracted to masculinity regardless of gender identity—but now I had the best one: Atlas.
I was still terrified of coming out, of course, but if I didn’t, I risked losing him.
Losing him would be much, much worse.
I would come out—but not just for him. He might be the impetus, but I needed to do this for me.
At the reunion . . . the prom, most likely.
We’d both RSVPed to all the reunion events, but we’d be so busy, I doubted we’d have time to address my sexuality in any meaningful way.
I could just show up with him on my arm, but didn’t he deserve spectacle and fanfare?
Maybe I could do it properly on Saturday, hopefully in the most romantic way possible.
With the reunion starting tomorrow, our weekend would be full of events, nostalgia, and reconnections with old friends.
And, I hoped, claiming the person I loved in front of the whole world.
I just hoped I wouldn’t be too late.