Chapter 16 Hanlon
Hanlon
Has Stone always had a freckle on his top lip or those strands of honey in his dark brown hair?
“Han?” The use of my nickname breaks me free of the spell commanding my attention.
“Sorry. What?” I ask lamely.
“I asked what you’re looking for.” Stone is rubbing his thumb into his opposite palm; a subconscious nervous habit he’s had as long as I’ve known him. Huh, maybe I picked that habit up from him.
“Oh, uh, I don’t really know…just that Micah isn’t it.
Two nice guys together would seem like setting myself up for a lifetime of conversations like no, after you.
No, you first, I insist. Why don’t you choose?
No, really, I’d love to do whatever you want.
I mean no disrespect, but that’s why my phone went off so much before I left.
Neither of us could decide for fear of hurting the other one’s feelings. ”
Stone probably didn’t need to hear all that word vomit, but he got it anyway.
“Sounds like you need someone you trust to call the shots,” he says.
Like you? I want to fire at him, but keep my mouth shut.
“Yeah, maybe,” I say, slapping my thighs to signal the end of this conversation. “But back to you. How are you doing with this revelation?”
“Fine, I guess,” he lies.
“Have you told anyone else?”
“No. Only Logan knows,” he says, staring into the fire.
“Do you want it to stay a secret? It’s hard to make friends and real relationships if no one truly knows you.”
Stone sighs. It’s heavy and laced with sadness. “I work with all guys. They’re a great group, and no one says anything to Logan’s face, but I can’t help feeling like there’s this constant tension in his interactions with everyone.”
“And you think that tension is because he’s bisexual and not because he’s an obnoxious twatwaffle who doesn’t take anything outside of his helicopter seriously?”
Stone snorts. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“We’ve already established the debacle with Logan was your first and only experience with a guy, and that hardly counts.
Learning something this life-changing about yourself can be really intimidating.
Why don’t we go out somewhere, not on this mountain, and explore a bit?
I’ll be your wingman and help ease you into the dating scene. ”
The thought of offering Stone up on a platter for some guy makes me want to vomit, but what other choice do I have?
He’s my brother, for Christ’s sake. If he gets involved with someone, that’s definitely the best-case scenario because this new Stone-shaped attraction I seem to have developed is a big fucking problem.
“I don’t know,” Stone starts, but I interject, really trying to sell the idea—not only to him, but to myself as well.
“Come on, it’ll be a lot of no-pressure fun. Some brotherly bonding. It’s a way I can repay you for letting me stay with you. I have to admit, getting regular sleep has been really nice.”
“I’m not sure where we’d go,” Stone says, clearly uncomfortable with the idea.
But I need this. I need him to agree to this so my brain and my stupid fucking dick get the memo that just because Stone’s into guys doesn’t mean he’s into me.
He can’t be into me. He’s not allowed to be into me. Nor I, him.
Our parents would fucking die. They’d never forgive us because while they want us to be close, I can guarantee they definitely don’t want us that close.
Our friends wouldn’t understand.
Our coworkers would be disgusted.
Our story would forever be tainted by our beginning—a beginning we didn’t even choose—and when people ask, ‘How did you meet?’ what are we supposed to say?
It wouldn’t matter that even if we were to fall in love, it would’ve been long after becoming adults.
It won’t matter that we overcame years of hurt, resentment, and abandonment to get wherever it is we’d end up.
All that would matter is that we were brothers first. Raised by the same two parents under the same roof.
“There’s an LGBTQ+ friendly lounge-style bar two towns over.
” When Stone looks surprised at my knowledge, I wag my eyebrows.
“Unlike you, brother dearest, I am not a virgin, and at this point in my life, I enjoy getting laid a lot, so I did a little recon before I arrived.” It’s like I’ve ripped the Band-Aid off, and now, my mouth won’t stay shut.
Stone groans and covers his face with a pillow as he flops against the back of the couch.
“God, stop talking.”
A small part of me is happy to discover that his discomfort level is as high as mine. It feels like proof that maybe we can survive this. “I will if you agree to go. You can’t just isolate yourself on this mountain forever.”
“Can I not?” he asks rhetorically.
“How well has it been working for you so far?” I ask, leaning back until I’m next to him, our shoulders touching.
He hugs the pillow to his chest and sighs.
“You’re kind of annoying as a rational adult, you know that?” he says with a grin.
“How’s that any different from when I was a kid?” I tease.
He ignores my comment and says, “So when are we going?”
“How about Saturday? It’ll be our last chance for a while.”
When he finally agrees, I head for the stairs, pausing at the bottom.
“Thank you for telling me, Stone. You shouldn’t have to hide that part of yourself. No one should.”
“Excuse me?!” Chase yells into the phone.
We’re guys. We don’t catch up via chats on the phone; we send texts and then ignore said texts for six or seven days, and then answer.
This is the first time I’ve heard Chase’s voice since moving out to Montana.
This morning, I’d answered one of Chase’s earlier texts by telling him things were good, and I’d moved in with Stone…
he just read it and called because apparently, this conversation is worth a phone call.
If only he knew the half of it.
“My roommates were partiers, and Stone knows that’s not my style. He also knows how much my sleep schedule impacts literally every other facet of my life,” I explain, making it sound like no big deal.
“No, he used to know that. He doesn’t know shit about you anymore, remember?” Chase says through the line.
“We’re making it work. We’re actually going out tonight. Ought to be fun.”
I don’t tell Chase where we’re going or why we’re going because I’m certainly not going to out Stone, but the sentiment is the same…Stone and I are voluntarily hanging out.
“You’re going out? Together? On purpose?” Chase clarifies.
“Yes.”
“I don’t trust him, Han. Don’t let that prick hurt you again. It’s been four years. He could’ve picked up the phone at any point, but he didn’t.”
I hadn’t realized that I’d actually gotten my hopes up, that somewhere in the few days between Stone coming out and us hitting the lounge tonight, my subconscious thoughts had begun to travel down the suicidal path of ‘what if?’
What if Stone is attracted to me like apparently, I am to him?
What if our being together isn’t as taboo and shameful as I think it is?
What if this thing between us could actually work?
What if everyone we know and love would accept it?
But it’s clear from this conversation with Chase that my brain is a sonofabitch hellbent on sabotaging my sanity.
“Yeah, I hear you,” I say, not wanting to argue. “I’ll let you know how it goes,” I lie, already knowing whatever happens tonight will most likely never be spoken of again—at least not by me. This will be Stone’s story to tell.
I hang up the phone, heading for the stairs to get changed for the night ahead, and run straight into Stone.
“Shit. Sorry,” I mumble in a raspy voice, bouncing off his chest.
“It’s all good,” Stone says, eyeing me for a second too long.
“What?” I ask.
“Why are you nervous?”
“I’m not. I’m going to change. I’ll be right back down.
” Shit. Tonight is supposed to be about putting him at ease and getting him more comfortable talking to guys and exploring what he wants.
He can’t fucking do that if he’s too busy being worried about me.
God, all he’s ever done is worry about me.
No fucking wonder he couldn’t wait to get away from me.
Pulling myself together, I shove down all my thoughts and insecurities and focus on helping Stone have an unforgettable night.