Chapter 30 #2
“Dead to me…”
“Never call again.”
étienne’s face crumpled. “Papa, please—”
But Philippe was still talking, his voice rising again. A final stream of French that ended with what sounded like a curse, and then silence.
The call had ended.
étienne stood frozen, the phone still pressed to his ear, his whole body trembling. Then a sob broke from his chest, raw and devastating.
I crossed to him, pulled the phone from his hand, and wrapped my arms around him as he collapsed against me.
“He said I’m not his son anymore,” étienne gasped between sobs. “He said I’m dead to him. That I’ve brought shame on him. That I’m—” His English dissolved into broken French, words tumbling out. “He said he’d rather have no son than a queer son. He told me never to call him again.”
I held him tighter as he shook and my own tears burned hot down my face. “I’m sorry. God, étienne, I’m so sorry.”
He pulled back slightly, his face red and wet, his eyes devastated. “I have no one now. My mother’s gone. My father just disowned me. I have no family left.” His voice broke. “He was difficult, he was impossible, but he was all I had. And now I don’t even have him.”
The words shattered my soul.
“You have me,” I said, gripping his face in my hands. “étienne, you have me.”
“Marco—”
“I’m your family now.” My voice was fierce, certain. “You hear me? I’m your family. Not by blood, but by choice. And I’m not going anywhere. I’m never going anywhere.”
His face crumpled again, fresh sobs tearing through him.
“You’re not alone,” I whispered against his hair, pulling him back against my chest. “You’re never going to be alone. I promise you. I’m here. I’m your family now.”
He clung to me, his fingers digging into my back, and I held him through it—through the grief and pain of losing a father who had never deserved him anyway.
I guided him to the couch, pulled him down beside me, let him fall apart while I held him together. Grief sat heavy in my chest—for my mother’s tears, for my father’s silence, for étienne’s complete devastation. We’d known this was coming. We’d prepared for it. But knowing didn’t make it hurt less.
“I cost you your father,” I said quietly when his sobs had subsided to shaky breathing.
“No.” étienne lifted his head, his eyes fierce despite the tears. “He cost himself a son. That’s on him, not you.”
“But if we weren’t together—”
“If we weren’t together, I wouldn’t have been brave enough to do that. I’d still be bisexual. I’d still be lying to him. He’d still find something to pick apart.” He took my face in his hands. “I did it for myself. For you. I’d do it again, too.”
I kissed him, tasting salt from both our tears. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” He rested his forehead against mine. “And I hate that loving you cost us our families. But I don’t regret it.”
We sat there for a long time, wrapped around each other, processing the wreckage of the last hour. Both our families knew, for better or worse.
And we still had to keep going. Had to tell more people. Had to keep breaking ourselves open until everyone knew.
“We can’t stop now,” I said finally. “We have to tell Kinnunen tonight.”
étienne pulled back slightly. “Tonight? I thought we were going to wait until tomorrow—”
“If we wait, we’ll talk ourselves out of it.” I stood and pulled him up with me. “We need to do it now while we still have the courage. Before fear wins.”
“Okay.” He took a shaky breath. “Okay. Let’s text him.”
I pulled out my phone, found Kinnunen’s contact, and typed out a text.
Marco
Hey. Can étienne and I come by tonight? Need to talk to you about something important. Around 7?
The response came within minutes.
Kinnunen
Of course. Everything okay?
Marco
Will explain in person. Thanks.
Kinnunen
See you at 7.
I showed étienne the screen. “Seven.”
“Christ.” He ran a hand through his hair. “This is really happening.”
“Yeah.” I pulled him close again. “But we’re doing it.”
“Agreed.”
We spent the next few hours trying to distract ourselves.
Showered together, hands comforting and gentle.
Changed into clean clothes. Sat on the couch pretending to watch something on TV.
Neither of us could focus. We just kept thinking about what we’d lost today, and what we were about to risk that evening.
At six thirty, we got in étienne’s Jeep and headed for Kinnunen’s house.
The drive took twenty minutes. Kinnunen lived in a nice neighborhood with big trees and footballs abandoned on front yards. His house was warm and inviting, a colorful Christmas tree glowing in the front window, Alyssa’s car in the driveway next to his.
We sat in the Jeep, neither of us moving, both staring at the front door with its white lights and pine wreath. “Last chance,” étienne said. “We could turn around. Wait until tomorrow.”
“No.” I unbuckled my seatbelt. “We’re doing this now.”
We climbed out and walked to the front door together. I rang the bell.
Kinnunen answered almost immediately, Lilja on his hip. She’d grown even bigger than a few weeks ago and grabbed at her father’s shirt with chubby hands.
“Hey, guys.” Kinnunen’s smile was welcoming, but his eyes were assessing. “Come in. Alyssa just put coffee on.”
We followed him inside. The house smelled sweet and spicy—cookies, maybe, or bread. Alyssa appeared from the kitchen, her expression warm but curious.
“Marco. étienne. Good to see you.” She took Lilja from Kinnunen. “I’ll put her to bed. You guys talk.”
She disappeared upstairs, and Kinnunen gestured to the couch. “Sit. Whatever this is, you both look terrified, so let’s just get it out there.”
We sat. Kinnunen took the love seat across from us and leaned forward with his elbows on his knees.
I looked at étienne. He looked back at me. Then I took his hand, right there in Kinnunen’s living room, and held it.
“We’re together,” I said. “étienne and I. We’re in a relationship. And we’re coming out publicly after Christmas.”
Kinnunen sat back slowly, his expression shifting through several emotions. Surprise. Understanding. Something that might have been relief.
“I wondered,” Kinnunen said, and at our expressions he smiled slightly. “At Thanksgiving. You guys were… there was something. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but Alyssa noticed too. The way you looked at each other. The way you moved around the kitchen together.”
My chest tightened. “We tried to be careful.”
“You were careful. But we know you both well enough to see when something’s different.” Kinnunen leaned forward again. “Does anyone else know?”
“Just our families. You’re the first on the team. We’re telling management and the rest of the team on Sunday, after we come back from Christmas break. Then going public Tuesday.”
“That’s soon.”
“We know.” I kept holding étienne’s hand, needing the anchor. “But we can’t keep hiding. It’s killing us. And Boucher’s suspicious—he’s been watching us, making comments. If we don’t control when and how this comes out, someone else will.”
“Boucher.” Kinnunen’s expression darkened. “Yeah, I can see him being a problem.”
“We told our families today,” étienne added, his voice rough. “It didn’t go well.”
“I’m sorry.” Kinnunen’s tone was sincere. “That’s rough. Are they—”
“My father disowned me,” étienne said bluntly. “Marco’s mother is struggling with it. His father walked out of the call.”
“Christ.” Kinnunen ran a hand over his face. “I’m really sorry, guys.”
“We knew it was coming,” I said. “But we wanted you to know before we tell everyone else. You’ve been a good friend to both of us. You deserve to hear it directly.”
“I appreciate that.” Kinnunen was quiet for a moment. “Can I ask—are you sure? About going public? About the timing? Because once you do this, you can’t take it back.”
“We’re sure,” étienne said firmly. “We don’t want to take it back.”
“Then I’m with you.” Kinnunen stood, crossed to the couch, and pulled us both into a hug. “Both of you. Whatever happens with the team, whatever Boucher does, whatever the media says—I’ve got your backs. Alyssa too. You’re not alone in this.”
A dam in my chest collapsed. Relief, gratitude, hope—all of it flooded through at once.
“Thank you,” I managed.
“Thank you for trusting me,” Kinnunen said. “And for what it’s worth—I think you’re brave as hell. What you’re doing? It’s going to be hard. But it’s going to matter. You’re going to help people.”
“We’re just trying to survive,” étienne said quietly.
“Yeah. But by surviving openly, you’re showing other people they can too.”
Alyssa appeared at the top of the stairs. “Lilja’s down. Everything okay?”
“Come down,” Kinnunen called. “There’s something the guys want to tell you.”
She descended the stairs, curiosity clear on her face. When she saw us—me still holding étienne’s hand, both of us red-eyed and exhausted—understanding dawned.
“Oh,” she said softly. She crossed to the couch, sat on the arm beside étienne. “How long?”
“About six weeks,” étienne said again.
“I knew it.” She looked at Kinnunen. “Didn’t I say at Thanksgiving—”
“You did.” He smiled. “You absolutely did.”
“And you’re going public?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said.
“Good.” She squeezed étienne’s shoulder. “You shouldn’t have to hide. Either of you. And if anyone on that team gives you shit about it, they’ll have to go through Mikael.” She grinned. “And me,” she added. “I’m small but I’m mean.”
Despite everything—the devastation of the family calls, the terror of what was coming—I laughed. étienne did too, the sound shaky but real.
We stayed another hour and talked through the plan. We accepted Alyssa’s offer of coffee and homemade gingerbread cookies, and the warmth of their support wrapped around us like armor.
When we finally left and climbed back into étienne’s Jeep, I felt lighter than I had all day.
“One down,” étienne said as he started the engine.
“Well… three down.”
The week ahead would be hard.
But romances always had a happy ending, right? Though things hadn’t gone great yet, they were looking up. We had Kinnunen’s support. We had Gia’s love and Alyssa’s fierce loyalty.
It wasn’t everything or ever after.
But it was a start.