Chapter 3 #2
I watch him go, exhaling slowly as I close the trunk. My pulse is still racing, but for the first time in a long time, it's not from uncertainty.
It's anticipation.
Sitting in my parents' kitchen, I force myself to keep my voice steady as I tell the story. I keep it light and casual as if this is just another tale from my life, something easy to digest.
Mom rests her chin on her hands, eyes bright with interest. "Was it love at first sight?"
A short chuckle escapes me. "Something like that."
Dad leans forward, listening. "And then what?"
I glance at the coffee in my hands, feeling its warmth seep into my skin, grounding me. I swallow, letting the memories settle before I continue.
"We met at the coffee shop," I say, my voice steady but softer now.
"It was this tiny place tucked around the corner, the kind with mismatched furniture and an old piano in the corner no one ever played.
I got there first and grabbed a table by the window.
I was nervous, trying not to overthink things, but the second they walked in, it was," I pause, searching for the right word. "Easy."
My mind drifts back to the moment Harrison strolled in like he belonged everywhere, the way he spotted me right away and smiled like we were already in on something together.
"We ordered coffee, and we just talked," I continue.
"About everything and nothing at the same time.
Movies, books, places we wanted to visit.
Harrison told me about growing up a couple of towns over.
I shared about how I just moved there and was still figuring things out. The hours just disappeared."
A small, nostalgic smile tugs at the corner of my mouth.
"The barista had to come over twice to remind us they were closing," I say with a quiet chuckle. "Neither of us wanted to leave."
Mom shifts slightly, listening intently, but she doesn't say anything.
"We walked out together," I go on, my fingers curling around my mug. "The streets were empty by then, just the streetlights and the sound of our footsteps. We exchanged phone numbers."
I exhale slowly, the memory settling in my chest.
"We talked all night," I finish. "Literally until sunrise."
Mom sighs like fate itself played a role in this. "Destiny."
Dad nods approvingly. "Sounds like a good woman."
The warmth drains from my body, and for a moment, I don't speak. My fingers tighten around the coffee cup, the weight of what comes next pressing down on me.
I could stop here. Let them believe what they want. Let the moment stretch a little longer. Let them stay happy—stay comfortable.
But I won't.
I can't.
"Mom, Dad," I inhale and force myself to meet their eyes. "Harrison isn't a woman."
The air shifts.
Mom blinks. "What do you mean?"
I swallow hard. "Harrison is a man."
Silence.
It stretches and stretches, suffocating.
My father pushes back from the table, his chair scraping against the floor as he stands. His face is unreadable. He doesn't speak, doesn't yell. He just turns and walks out of the room.
Mom stays seated, her eyes filled with something raw and unreadable.
"Why, Scott?" Her voice cracks. "How could you be in love with a man?"
I reach for her hand, but she pulls away.
"I know this is a shock," I say gently. "I didn't want to hurt you, but I love him. Please try to understand."
She wipes at her tears. "I don't know how to be okay with this."
My throat tightens. "Harrison asked me to marry him."
She gasps, shaking her head.
"I won't keep us a secret anymore," I whisper.
Her head drops into her hands, and something inside me splinters. I stand, unable to watch her break down.
From the living room, my father's voice cuts through the silence. "Get out."
The words land like a punch to the gut, knocking the air from my lungs. For a moment, I can't move. Can't breathe.
I turn to face him, but he won't look at me. He stands near the wall where our family photos hang, his back rigid, hands clenched at his sides. His shoulders rise and fall with deep, controlled breaths, but he doesn't turn around.
"Dad." My voice cracks.
"I said, get out."
Mom makes a small sound in the back of her throat, something caught between a sob and a protest, but she doesn't say anything.
She doesn't stop him. The rejection wraps around my chest, tight and suffocating.
I want to plead with him. To beg him to see that I'm still his son. That nothing really changed.
But I don't beg. I don't argue.
Because I know that right now, it wouldn't matter.
With a shaky breath, I push back my chair and stand.
I take one last look at my mother, searching for something—hope, understanding, a promise that this isn't permanent.
Tears shimmer in her eyes, but she stays rooted to her seat, her hands curled into tight fists on the table. She refuses to meet my gaze.
And that hurts more than the words my father just threw at me.
Swallowing hard, I turn and walk out of the kitchen. My footsteps echo in the quiet house, past the framed memories lining the hallway, past my father and the television that's still on mute, past the place where I once felt safe.
I reach the front door and pause, my hand on the knob. I wait.
For my father to call me back.
For my mother to tell me that she loves me anyway.
For something, anything, that tells me I haven't lost them completely.
But the only sound is the tick of the grandfather clock in the hall. I close my eyes for a second, letting the harsh reality sink in. Then, I open the door and step outside.
The cool evening air hits me as I walk down the path and cross the street to my car.
By the time I slide into the driver's seat and shut the door, my hands are shaking.
The weight of it all crashes over me, and I drop my forehead against the steering wheel.
My breath comes in uneven gasps as my father's voice echoes in my head, over and over, like a wound that won't stop bleeding.
I fumble for my phone with trembling fingers and dial the only number I need.
Harrison answers on the first ring. "How did it go?"
I try to speak, but nothing comes out.
"Oh, babe," he says softly. "I'm so sorry."
I swallow hard, forcing the words through the tightness in my throat. "My father kicked me out."
Harrison is quiet for a beat, but when he speaks again, his voice is steady, warm, and safe. "Are you still there? I'll come get you."
I shake my head, even though he can't see me. "No, I'll be okay. I'm coming home."
Home.
Not my parents' house. Not anymore.
I start the car, gripping the wheel like it's the only thing keeping me grounded. The streetlights blur as I pull away from the curb, but I blink hard and focus on the road ahead.
I don't know if my parents will ever accept this part of me. But I do know one thing. I'm done hiding who I am. I'm done hiding my relationship with Harrison.
He deserves more—I deserve more.