Chapter Three
CHAPTER THREE
JT
D o my parents think I’m an idiot? I’m pretty sure they do. Amanda has been talking all afternoon about NC State, where she’s a professor and where Dad went, as if that’s going to turn on some light bulb in my head that makes me realize college has always been my dream and I won’t be happy unless I try to enroll right now.
It’s not even like I could get into a university like that for next year, considering it’s past the deadline, and while Dad would have loved for me to go to his alma mater, I know that’s not a must for him. He just feels like I should be doing something other than what I am.
Amanda doesn’t come right out and ask me about my plans for the future, but it’s clear there’s a reason she’s here, and it’s to subtly make sure I know that I should be doing more with my life than I am.
“How are you doing?” Marsh asks when Dad is at the grill and Mom and Amanda go inside.
“I’m fine, despite what other people seem to think.” Marsh has always been great. He’s successful like my parents, but where it always feels like they’re disappointed that I’m not like Dad, I don’t get that from Marsh. Not that he would have a reason to be since I’m not his son, but he’s not the type to judge others. He doesn’t have the same expectations my parents have. He’s a way more live-and-let-live guy.
“What do you mean?” he asks.
That’s something he always does that’s annoying, though. He has questions about everything, like he’s looking for some kind of hidden meaning.
“Nothing. It’s not a big deal.”
Marsh frowns, which draws my attention to his face, to his hazel eyes and the black scruff along his jaw and his dark hair which always looks neat and styled—not as if he spends time doing it, but like the hairs wouldn’t dare disobey him. “Your dad means well.”
“He has a shitty way of showing it.”
“He loves you.”
“I know that. Never doubted it, but…” He wants me to be him. He loves me, but he’s not proud of who I am. He’s disappointed in me.
“But what?” Marsh prods.
“Nothing.” I look away.
“I don’t think it’s nothing. You’re entitled to your feelings, JT…and to live the life you want.”
My head snaps back in his direction, eyes taking him in. I know it’s true, but something about hearing Marsh say it—this man who has been in my life since I was born and who is my dad’s best friend—makes it feel different. Maybe truer.
“What did I miss?” Dad asks, joining us.
“I was just telling JT how proud of him I am.” Marsh cocks a brow like he’s daring me to contradict him, or maybe like he’s telling me now that he’s proud of me. I don’t know. It’s hard to tell, but it makes my stomach dance, which is strange. Being around Marsh has never made me feel like this before. At all. Maybe because despite him always being part of my life, it had been at a distance, unlike now.
“He’s a good boy.” Dad then turns to me and says, “Amanda has a son your age. He’s a traitor and goes to UNC, but he’s gay too and—”
I groan, cutting him off. So that’s what this is about? Or a combination of school and a guy? “Please don’t, Dad. Since you can’t get me to do what you consider ‘making something with my life,’ don’t then switch to trying to set me up with men.” Especially one who’s the kind of guy he probably wishes his son was more like. Someone with aspirations.
“I wasn’t. I’m not—okay, well, your mother wondered, but I was just making conversation.” When I don’t respond, he adds, “You’ve never had a serious relationship. You’ve never been serious about anything in your life.”
How does he know? Just because I’m not a fucking dentist and don’t have the same goals as him, that means I’m not serious about my life?
“I have zero interest in a relationship right now. I have zero interest in going to college, changing jobs, or doing any of the other things you wish I would do.” I shove to my feet and walk away, knowing I’m acting like a child.
I head straight for the gate and my car. Footsteps sound behind me, and I know exactly what Dad will say. He’ll apologize. He’ll tell me how much he loves me and how he just wants more for me, wants me to be happy. And all those things are true, but he wants me happy on his terms. His idea of my happiness is really his own.
What would he do if I came home with an older man? If he knew the things I’m into, the things I need?
I tug my car door open, knowing I’m being dramatic—I have a habit of that—but right now I don’t really care.
“JT.” Marsh’s voice stops me before I get into the car.
Oh. I hadn’t expected him to be the one to come out. That makes it easier not to storm off. “It’s always something. Nothing I do will ever be good enough for him.” For either of my parents, really, but Mom doesn’t come in like a wrecking ball the way Dad does. Mom and I can spend more time together without it coming up.
“That’s not true.”
I roll my eyes at him. He opens his mouth as if to say something about it but then closes it again. See? Even Marsh knows I’m right.
“I’m so tired of it.” I slam the door shut and lean against it.
Marsh does the same beside me. “He’s intense…an overachiever. He always has been. It’s hard for your dad to understand people who aren’t like him, who don’t want the things he does, and he’s putting that energy into you because he loves you. In his mind, he’s doing right by you, helping you reach your potential and doing everything in his power to make his son happy.”
“And that makes it okay?” I snap.
“No.” Marsh shakes his head. “It doesn’t. He needs to stop pushing his expectations onto you.”
My heart thuds, his words repeating in my head. I’ve thought them a million times, but hearing them from Marsh, from the man my dad calls his brother, makes them feel more —makes them bigger, truer. Like a part of me needed to hear him say them for me to believe I’m not being irrational. I shouldn’t put that kind of stock in someone else, and I have no idea why I’m doing it with Marsh, but somehow, it helps.
“Thanks,” I say without looking at him. I press the tip of my right foot against the concrete like I’m squashing a bug.
“JT,” he says, voice strong and strangely demanding.
“What?”
“Look at me.”
With a sigh, I turn to him. He’s got just a little bit of gray at his temples, mixed with his onyx hair. His jawline is strong, set firmly—not in an angry way, but in a studying one. His lashes are dark and thick, eyes deep set and private, if that makes sense. Marsh is hot. There’s no two ways about it. I’ve thought so for a few years now, but it’s never made my stomach twist the way it does in this moment. It’s never made the hairs on my arms stand up. It’s…not something I should be thinking about a man who’s so close to my dad. Jesus, Marsh would be disgusted if he knew.
“I’m fine, Marsh.”
I try to walk away, but he places a hand on my shoulder. No pressure—he doesn’t grab me—but still, it makes me stop.
“You’re a good man. The things you want or don’t want are valid. I love John, but if he isn’t satisfied, those are his issues, not yours.”
“I…” Thank you and I needed to hear that play tug-of-war in my head, but I feel too cut open, too raw and bleeding to say them. I’m used to this shit with my dad, so I don’t know what’s causing it. “I should go back to the barbecue” is what I settle on.
“Okay. But only if you want to.” Marsh drops his hand from my arm, and…I didn’t expect that. Not as if I need him to give me permission to make a choice, but I wouldn’t have expected him to think there’s nothing wrong with leaving if I want to.