Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Declan
A cold, drippy March rain greeted me upon my return to Portland, and by the time I made my way to my dad’s truck in the pickup line, full-on sheets of rain poured from the sky. For a moment, I missed the desert. Funny how fast I’d become used to the dryness again.
“You hungry?” Dad asked as we left the airport. “Denver will tease me about cheating on him with Portland food, but I’d rather get an early dinner and avoid the worst of this rain and rush hour.”
“Sure, we can eat. I skipped lunch,” I admitted as Dad turned away from the highway and toward the nearby shopping area filled with big-box stores and chain restaurants. He wasn’t nearly the foodie his boyfriend was, and I wasn’t surprised when he picked a local chain burger place. “And sorry for making you battle traffic. I know the flight was at an awkward time. I could have caught the Mount Hope shuttle?—”
Dad made an indignant noise as he parked near the restaurant’s entrance. “I’m not letting my kid catch the shuttle when I’ve got a perfectly working truck.”
“You sound like Grandpa.” I snort-laughed because it was true. Dad sounded exactly like his fire chief father.
“Turns out he has some wisdom.” Dad adopted a superior tone. “You’ll see someday.”
“You do know I’m an adult now.” I was still bristling at the kid remark, more so because of the talk we needed to have. I supposed a public restaurant wasn’t the worst choice for said talk, but it sure wasn’t the best. Accordingly, I was grateful when the young hostess seated us at a booth in the back.
“Yep.” Dad slid in across from me. “You can even order a beer with the dinner I’m about to buy you.”
“I can buy.”
“Adult, check. Generous, check.” Dad ticked items off on an imaginary list. “But I’m buying. I know bike parts aren’t cheap.”
Once a dad, always a dad. I was tempted to show him my bank account, which, despite meager beginnings when I was a rookie rider, now had a balance that surprised even me. Instead of snapping back like I might have another time, I softened my tone. “Have I said thank you enough? For helping me get my start?”
“Eh.” Cheeks going pink, Dad shrugged. For all our differences, we were equally bad at taking praise. “It’s what parents do. And your sister’s college wasn’t cheap either.”
“Well, thank you.”
Dad shook his head, eyes strangely sentimental. “Still not sure where you got the racing gene from, but everyone says you were born to ride.”
I had to chortle again. “My mom’s off in Antarctica, and my dad runs into burning buildings for shits and giggles, and you wonder how I fell in love with an extreme sport?”
Dad paused before replying as a waiter around my age with an impressive collar of neck tattoos arrived to take our orders. We both got the same Oregon cheddar and caramelized sweet onion burger and fries combo, and I ordered that beer. I had a feeling I was going to need it.
“I guess you did get a thrill-seeking gene,” Dad allowed after the waiter left. “I just always thought you’d be?—”
“A firefighter. I know.” I groaned and rolled my eyes. “Generation whatever of Murphys operating the hose.”
“Hey. I never pressured you to be a firefighter.” Dad frowned, leaning forward across the table to give me a hard stare. “Sure, that’s the Murphy legacy, but I never tried to force it on you.”
“I know.” I exhaled hard as the waiter returned with my beer and Dad’s soda. He was right that he’d never pushed for me to go to the fire academy, but that legacy he spoke of was a weighty thing, present at every family gathering, a continuing reminder of how I didn’t quite fit as a Murphy.
“And honestly, I was going to say baseball coach, which is likely as silly as thinking you’d be a firefighter.” He smiled. I didn’t. However, he continued, undeterred, “You always seemed a little older, quieter than the kids on your team, but you had a good grasp of the game. There’s this natural kindness to you as well. And for all your math scores never showed it, you could spit out stats like nobody’s business.”
“A coach?” I made a sour face, deliberately ignoring his compliments as they made me more than a little itchy. I wasn’t sure I saw myself as kind. I was trying, like when I did nice things for Jonas, but Dad seemed to have a better opinion of me than I did. “I’m not good with kids.”
“Seriously? Eric’s teens adore you, you have tons of kid fans like at the movie night, and your cousins think you hung the moon.” Expression skeptical, Dad gestured to count off examples. “And someday, you’ll be a great dad.”
And there was the other heavy part of the Murphy legacy. No matter how much my dad and other family members complained, matchmaking was in their blood. And once one of them found happiness, they wanted that for everyone else. Not to mention the family’s ever-growing size and love of grandkids and cousins.
“Not sure about that either.” My tone was guarded, but as usual, Dad didn’t pick up on the subtext.
“Maybe after racing?” he suggested, oblivious to the gnarly section of track he was wandering into. “Much as you like to fight it, it’s a young man’s sport.”
I made a pained noise. “Dad.”
“Hey, I’m sorry.” He held up a hand. “I don’t have to like it, but I know you’re going to race as long as you can.” He used a resigned tone before softening. “I’m your dad. It’s my job to want to keep you safe, even as an adult.”
“You’re a good dad.” My voice came out sadder than intended. He was an excellent dad, and my chest clenched at how long it had taken me to acknowledge that. My demons were mine, not caused by him, but those beasts had certainly added to the distance and tension between us.
“And you would be a good dad too.” Not surprisingly, Dad misinterpreted my wistfulness. “The right person is out there?—”
“I’m queer.” Well, there it was, and after all these years, it was remarkably easy to say. I liked the word, which I’d picked up from Rowan and his colorful friend group. Trying to sort out whether gay, bi, pan, or some other label fit best was tiring. I’d had sex with women but had never felt the sort of emotional connection I did with Jonas. Demisexual was another term I’d picked up from Rowan and Jonas, but it wasn’t exactly accurate for me. Queer, though, worked. I wasn’t straight, and that was the point I wanted to make.
“Okay. This is unexpected.” Dad swallowed audibly followed by an impressive amount of blinking and deep breathing.
“Your food.” The waiter bailed Dad out as he delivered our food in what was either the world’s worst or best timing. I tried not to dwell on whether the waiter had heard us. Too late now, and Dad’s reaction was the one that truly mattered.
I took a small bite of burger simply to have something to do other than catalog the kitschy Portland-inspired decor while waiting for Dad to speak. And considering how talkative the man usually was, his quiet deliberation made my back tense and my feet dig into the hardwood floor.
“I guess what I want to say first is that I love you,” Dad said at last. “I’ve always loved you, and this news doesn’t affect that one bit. But why… I’m sorry.” He shook his head as if he’d changed his mind about something. “Sorry. It’s not my place to question your timing.”
“But you’d like to.” It wasn’t a question as the confusion on Dad’s face was answer enough.
“Well, I always thought you knew this was the sort of thing you could come to your mom and me with.” Totally ignoring his food, Dad quirked his mouth. “And then I came out, so you had to know…” Sighing, he trailed off.
“I was so angry when you came out,” I admitted. I didn’t like to think about that day, how stunned I’d felt, almost physically ill. “I reacted badly, and I apologize for that.”
“Why were you angry at me?” he asked in a low, pained voice. Two bright-red splotches appeared on Dad’s cheeks.
“Not at you . At the irony.” I met his gaze even though the hurt there made my stomach clench. “I’d obsessed about who to tell and what to say for years, and you just go and come out, boom, done. And everyone’s fine about it. You made it look so simple.”
“I promise you it wasn’t, and I wouldn’t say I handled it the best either.” Dad gave a shaky laugh. “You’ve always been more serious. More of a thinker. So you were mad I beat you to the punch?”
“No. It had nothing to do with you being first.” I gestured vaguely, trying to gather my thoughts. I took another bite of food to buy more time, then a long drink of my beer.
“Do you have any idea how hard it is to be a Murphy?” I tried again to explain. “My dad is a literal superhero in a long line of superheroes. Murphy men are tough. They play football. They’re firefighters, police officers, military personnel. They’re not queer.”
“But—” Dad started to protest, so I held up a hand.
“Except, apparently, some of them are queer. And the Murphys are cool with that now, but that doesn’t change how I spent years wondering if I’d arrived from another planet. I never fit in. I felt different from the start. I didn’t want to be a firefighter, didn’t like talking trucks and football. Being queer was one more big difference from the rest of the Murphy men.”
“I’m sorry, Declan. So sorry.” Dad sounded way too close to crying, and I had to look up at the ceiling, start counting tiles, because if I saw tears in his eyes, it would be over for me too. “You do fit in. You’ve always fit in. And there’s room in the family for all sorts of people.”
“I get that. Now.” I gave a harsh laugh because if someone had handed me a time machine right then, I would have grabbed it with both hands. “But as a kid? It was hard to believe. And then I found motocross, this place where I might belong. Racing felt right in a way nothing else had.” Well, nothing up until Jonas, but we weren’t to that part of my confession yet. “But the more I raced, I was even more certain I couldn’t come out, couldn’t be fully myself there either.”
“Times—”
“Are changing. I know. Every few months, another major sports player or coach comes out.” I didn’t want to admit how often I’d scrolled various out sports sites, looking for a roadmap and not seeing it despite the strides forward. Like Tony had said, comment sections were the devil. “I’ve watched Rowan the past few months. And you. And Tony and Caleb. I wish I could have grown up like Rowan, where being out isn’t a huge drama.”
“I wish that for you too.” Dad reached across to touch the back of my hand. His eyes were as sincere as I’d ever seen them. “And while I wouldn’t say it’s always been easy for Rowan, I get what you’re saying. Coming out is big and scary, and I worried about doing it, too, but it’s also freeing. I promise you the other side is worth it.”
“I’m starting to believe that.” I exhaled hard before taking another sip of beer, letting it coat my parched throat. “And maybe easy isn’t what I meant. I want to be his kind of confident. To wake up on a random Wednesday and decide it’s an eyeliner and glitter top day and to be able to say fuck anyone who disagrees.” Dad laughed, and I joined in before sobering. “But that’s not me. I hate being the center of attention. I always have. And coming out in my sport? Every eyeball would be on me, and I want to say fuck it and not care, but I’m not there yet.”
“I’m glad you told me though. So, so glad. And proud of you.” Dad nodded so earnestly that I feared he might jostle some vital organ loose. “You don’t have to come out on anyone’s timeline but your own. I’m sorry if I didn’t provide a safe enough space for you to do it sooner, but I’m glad you did.”
I wasn’t sure how to reply to that. The sounds of the half-full restaurant swirled around us with clinking glasses and murmurs from other conversations. I wasn’t quite far enough into my fuck it era to go give Dad a hug, but I nodded. “Thank you.”
“And when—if—you’re ready to come out to others, I’ll proudly stand beside you. You do belong, Declan, and there are so many of us who have your back. Starting with the Murphys, but also Denver, Eric, the kids, Tony, Caleb, Jonas?—”
“I’m in love with him.” Might as well get everything out now. It felt like some gasket had been removed in my soul, and now the truth, all the truth, could spill feely out. “That’s the other thing you need to know. I’m in love with Jonas.”
“Oh boy.” Dad whistled in through his teeth. “You’re hell on my cardiac health.”
“Sorry.”
“Is that why you decided to come out? You have a crush?—”
“It’s not a crush, and no. I needed to do this for me. Living half a life was slowly killing me, and I see that now.” Being alone on a strange mattress in Arizona had made that clear. I was in one of the most beautiful places on earth and miserable. I’d felt both invisible and exposed the whole visit, and that was no way to live. I met Dad’s gaze. “Pushing it down and pushing it down only meant I was that much closer to exploding.”
“Been there,” he said thickly, eyes suspiciously watery.
“Please don’t cry.”
“I’m just so sorry you were hurting and no one knew.”
“Because I didn’t want them to.” I opened my hands, encompassing all the years I could have spoken up and hadn’t. “But falling for Jonas…” I scrunched up my face, trying to find the right words. “It’s been…healing? Not that I was broken or missing something, but having him in my life makes me see the world differently. And it makes me want to share. I found this good thing, this amazing thing, and I can’t talk to anyone about it because I’m too chicken to come out? Fuck that. I’m not coming out for him , but this thing is too big to keep inside, to keep a secret.”
“And you shouldn’t.” Dad gave a resigned huff, eyebrows going high and tight. “I take it he knows you’re in love with him?”
“Sort of? Maybe?” I offered a sheepish smile. “I mean, I haven’t used those words exactly.”
“Ah.” Dad took yet another deep breath, and I could sense him counting to ten and trying to find a way to diplomatically object. “He’s a lot older. Like a lot. What if he doesn’t feel the same way?”
“I kind of think he does. But regardless, I needed to come out.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever find the words to explain to Dad that I’d needed to come out to him first, that this was possibly the most important conversation I’d ever had, and that his acceptance meant more to me than he’d ever understand. “Also, I need to try to make it work with Jonas. I need to know I gave this my best shot. If it doesn’t work out, at least I’ll know I tried.”
“I can respect that.” Dad looked like he’d chewed up a lime wedge whole and chased it with a shot. It’d be comical if the subject weren’t my future.
“You’re trying super hard not to lecture right now, aren’t you?”
“You have no idea.” Giving another sour look, he groaned. “And Jonas is one of the very best people I know. Anyone would be lucky to have him.”
“Including me.” I smiled around another sip of my beer.
“I’m trying to wrap my head around the age difference.” Dad downed half his soda in a single sip. “He’ll be sixty when?—”
“Let’s not math.” I held up both hands. “I want to grow older with him. Will he get older faster? Maybe. No guarantees there, especially with my sport. And I like cozy mysteries, early dinners, and puzzles. I’m practically a senior citizen myself.”
“Okay. No math. No lectures.” Dad took a decisive bite of his burger. “I’m going to say good luck and mean it.”
“Thank you.”
“Anything else I should know?”
“That’s pretty much it.” I managed my first genuine grin during the whole conversation.
“Thank goodness.” Dad wiped his forehead, and we both chuckled. This was going to be okay. Now, if I could only say the same thing for Jonas and me.