Chapter 28
Eric
Chickens peck lazily in the yard of my childhood home, and Gus, the massive Great Pyrenees, loafs next to the fence line, ears perked as the bus creaks to a stop. Sunlight filters through the trees, casting dappled shadows that dance across the windows like old memories coming back to life.
Five acres isn’t huge by Tennessee standards, but stepping onto the property makes the rest of the world fall away. Solitude is the default here—no people, no judgment, just the gentle rustle of leaves, distant bird calls, and the low hum of cicadas. It's exactly what I need right now.
Excited as a redneck with a hankering for jerky on the first day of deer season?
Excited as the first person in line at Tractor Supply’s Black Friday sale?
Both fit. And honestly, same.
I climb down the steps first, and Mom charges forward with her arms flung wide open as she crashes into me. “Oh, my sweet baby,” she whispers into my shoulder.
A deep chuckle leaves me as I scoop her up and lift her feet off the ground. “Mom, I’m twenty-eight.”
“Still my baby.” Her voice is filled with affection as I set her back down, and Dad stands in the background, patiently waiting for his own hug.
“It’s about time you came home, son,” he says, accent thicker than cold honey. He pulls me into an embrace and drops a hearty clap on my shoulder.
Everyone else has made their way off the bus, and I gesture for them to come closer.
“Guys, these are my parents, Susan and Tim Woodard. Mom, Dad, these are the guys. Dante, our guitarist…” He waves from the rear of the group.
“Tai, our keyboardist and backup vocalist.” Tai flashes his signature lazy grin and says hello.
Theo bounds forward before I can introduce him. “I’m Theo! Bassist and the coolest of everyone here. Your son is a gem. A little cranky at times, yes, but that’s nothing you don’t already know, am I right?”
Mom’s smile is blinding while Dad looks a little shellshocked.
Granted, Theo is in his self-proclaimed ‘lounge chic’ today, wearing black joggers and a lavender crop top that shows off his lithe body with ‘Boo, you whore' printed across the chest. Paired with his upbeat energy, it can be… a lot.
Dmitri stands near the back of the group, lips curved into a small, sweet smile. I gesture for him to join me, and he steps forward. “This is Dmitri,” I say as I turn back to my parents. “He's our new drummer, and my…”
Suddenly aware of everyone's eyes, I trail off.
I hadn't approached this with any real plan, other than knowing I'd be coming out to my parents while we're here.
If I had any sense, I'd wait until the excitement wore off and take them somewhere quiet to explain, but I've never been patient.
Sweat slicks my palms as I run them over my jeans, nerves crashing through me like a bolt of lightning.
The secret already makes my skin feel like it's crawling off my bones, but that lingering doubt holds my tongue captive for a moment.
I have no grounds to be worried. These two are the people who raised me with open minds and giant hearts. They're the embodiment of love and acceptance.
My palm run down my legs again, and I force myself to stop fidgeting. “Er, actually, guys, can you give us a minute? Head inside and make yourselves at home. We’ll be in shortly.”
After a quick exchange of knowing glances, they walk toward the door as a group. Dmitri wavers for a moment, and when I sense his hesitation, I grab his wrist.
“Can you…?” The words barely escape, but he knows what I need.
He turns around and positions himself beside me. “Of course,” he says with a calmness I wish I could borrow.
Mom and Dad share a confused look, but they smooth it behind their smiles. The guys step inside, and I take a deep breath to settle the overactive nerves beneath my skin. Dmitri rests his hand on my lower back, and when I glance up at him, he gives me an encouraging smile.
He's a pillar of strength, while I’m five seconds away from breaking out in hysterical giggles.
“Eric, is everything okay?” Mom’s voice is gentle, but I hear the concern in it.
I muster the courage to meet her eyes. “It is. Okay, I mean. Everything’s okay… it’s more than okay. Great, even, you could… you could say…”
My mouth snaps shut as I try my hand at breathing again. When did that become so hard?
Mom's eyebrows have slowly knitted together, creating a V-shaped crease between her eyes as her unease grows.
Scene one, take two.
“I’m… well, I’m not… straight? Shit, that sounded like a question and it’s not. A question, that is… not a question. At all. Fuck, we’re… he’s… I’m…” My skin sears, telling me my face is neon red and getting darker.
Dmitri tries to contain his smile as his dimple makes an appearance.
“You are not helping,” I hiss, before turning back to my very perplexed parents. “Dmitri is mine,” I finally blurt. “My boyfriend, my… just mine. We’re together.”
Their eyes widen comically large, and my dad’s mouth has dropped open by a sliver.
That should about sum it up, right? Nothing left to see here; show’s over, the end.
But I can’t seem to stop talking. Verbal diarrhea to the highest degree.
It’s fucking chronic.
“Like, together together. Involved. We’re a, uh, a couple… romantically.”
Dmitri’s hand slides into mine and squeezes. “I think they got it, Eric,” he says with infinite patience.
Mom recovers first, glancing at Dmitri and back at me. “Honey, we had no idea.”
“Yeah, join the club,” I mutter before clearing my throat. “It’s complicated.”
“Doesn’t sound complicated at all to me.” Dad’s voice is booming, and his expression is unreadable as I meet his eyes. The fears that I’ve collected over the past few weeks swell up into one giant crest as I stop breathing. “You care about him?”
“Yes,” I croak.
“He’s good to you?”
I nod, squeezing Dmitri’s hand like a stress ball. “Very.”
“Well, then. As I said, not complicated.” The way he says it, so resolute, almost throws me off balance.
“You’re… you’re okay with this?” I ask after a pause.
“Son.” Dad steps forward, his voice softer as he grabs my shoulder.
Worry lines his eyes, but his words are filled with love.
“All we ever wanted in this world is for you to be happy. If you say he makes you happy, that’s enough for me.
” He turns his attention to Dmitri, who gives him a solemn nod.
Dad scans him head to toe with thoughtful eyes.
“Besides, a big strapping lad like that? I’ll put him to work eventually. ”
The breath trapped in my lungs rushes out as a loud laugh, and I try to remember how to breathe normally. Emotion balls up in my throat as I crush myself into Dmitri’s chest, resting my face against his shoulder. His arms wrap around me, and the relief nearly drops me to my knees.
The rise of his cheek tells me he’s smiling, and the happy gleam in my mother’s eyes says she’s already just as smitten for him as I am.
We work our way inside to find the guys awkwardly standing around, so Mom takes them on a tour of the house and insists everyone relaxes while she cooks. She prepares a feast for dinner—fried chicken, mashed potatoes, collard greens, and cornbread.
Theo takes a bite, then lets out a dramatic groan. “I’m going to be so bloated after this.”
“Oh, don’t worry sweetie,” Mom says with a wave of her hand. “You could stand to put on a few pounds. It won’t hurt you.”
I lean closer to Dmitri with a grin. “You know that pesky gut of mine you love so much?”
“That teeny belly?” he asks with a smirk.
“That’s the one,” I say with a laugh. “If you’re wondering where it came from, the answer is on your plate and soon to be in your arteries.” He stifles a laugh that ends up coming out as a snort, and Mom swats me with the kitchen towel tucked into her belt loop.
After dinner, we transition into the living room.
Every seat is occupied, so Dmitri finds a spot on the floor and leans back between my knees.
Everyone is stuffed to the gills, halfway in a food coma, though no one objects when Mom pulls the apple pie from the oven and fills the room with the scent of cinnamon and butter.
We swap stories from the tour, telling them about the shows, the reviews, and the quiet moments in between.
Theo and Tai try to drag embarrassing childhood stories from my parents, and while Dmitri doesn’t chime in, he certainly doesn’t intervene.
Thankfully, my mom is an iron vault of secrets.
She’s on a first-name basis with half the town’s closet skeletons.
Old friends, in some cases. She’ll never share.
She offers to pull out air mattresses for the guys, but they all politely tell her they're fine to sleep on the bus. I lean forward and wrap my arms around Dmitri’s neck, planting a kiss on his square, stubbled jaw. “Want to grab our stuff and check out my room?”
We step outside, and I pause to savor the serene warmth of the evening. Cicadas chirp loudly in the dim lighting of the setting sun, the sky a watercolor of soft peach and lavender. Gus wanders over and nudges my hand, demanding a pet before he strolls back to his guard post at the fence.
“It’s beautiful here,” Dmitri says, weaving our fingers together as we walk to the bus to collect our things. “Peaceful. Not exactly quiet, but still. Like time slows down to give you a second to breathe.”
“Easy, killer,” I tease. “If you let the others know you can wax poetic like that, you’ll put me out of a job as our songwriter.”
His smile is calm and carefree, the stress from the tour fading away in the simplicity of this place. “Your parents took it well.”
“Deep down, I knew they would,” I say. “They're good people, and they’ve loved me unconditionally my entire life, even when I didn’t deserve it.”
“You’ve always deserved love, Eric,” he whispers, hugging me to him. I curl into his neck, drinking in his familiar, woody scent. “Always. Even when I was too afraid to give it to you.”