33. Colton #2
The words wrap around me. My throat tightens, and I kiss him—slow, lingering, all of me in it. He makes a soft sound, like the fight’s left him completely, and rolls halfway on top of me, his weight a comfort I never want to lose.
“Say it,” I breathe against his lips, needing to hear it, to brand it into the space where all my doubts used to live.
He hesitates, and for a second I think he’ll retreat again—but then he whispers, barely audible, “I love you.”
The words crash over me, leaving me breathless.
My chest feels too tight for how big my heart suddenly is.
I kiss him hard, desperate, as though I can pour every single thing I’ve held back straight into him.
When I finally pull back, I whisper it back against his mouth, “I love you too. Always have. ”
He closes his eyes and lets out a shaky laugh, as if he doesn’t know whether to cry or kiss me again. He does both—pressing our mouths together, holding onto me like he’ll never let go.
For the first time, there’s no wall between us. No running. Just us, tangled in his bed, the morning light fading into afternoon, and everything we’d been too scared to say finally out in the open. It feels freeing.
My phone buzzes, breaking the soft rhythm of our breathing. Micah groans, burying his face in my neck attempting to block out the world by pressing hard enough.
But the vibration doesn’t stop.
I sigh, stretching an arm to fish it out of my sweat pockets—and freeze when I see the screen. Mom. FaceTime.
Micah notices instantly. I feel him start to pull back, his warmth leaving me feeling as though someone ripped off a blanket in mid-winter. “I’ll give you a minute,” he mutters, rolling half off me, trying to slip away like we didn’t just bare everything to each other.
“Hey—” I catch his wrist, my heart hammering as I shake my head. “No. Stay.”
His eyes flick to mine, uncertain. “Colt…”
“I told you,” I say, my voice steady even though my pulse is a mess. “No more hiding. Not from them. Not from anyone.”
Before I can think too hard about it, I swipe to answer.
Mom’s face fills the screen, bright and smiling. “Sweetheart! I was just—oh!” Her words stumble to a halt, her eyes going wide as she takes in the scene—me, shirtless and rumpled, Micah pressed against my side in his own bed.
“Oh my God,” she breathes, blinking as if maybe the camera’s playing tricks on her. “Micah? ”
I can feel Micah go rigid beside me, every muscle tight, but I loop my arm around his waist and hold him close. My heart’s racing so hard it hurts, but I don’t back down. Micah’s breath hitches against my skin, and I know he’s seconds from bolting.
Mom’s gaze flicks between our faces, her smile faltering into something tight and uncertain. “Colton… what’s going on?” Her eyes linger on Micah’s bare shoulder against mine, the sheets, the way I’m holding him—but it’s like she can’t quite let herself connect the dots.
“Mom—” My voice catches, and I have to clear my throat. “I… I need to tell you something.”
She hesitates, lips parting. “About… school?”
“No.” My stomach knots, but I make myself hold her gaze. “About me.”
Her brows pinch together. “Okay…” Her voice lifts, tentative. “What about you, sweetheart?”
Micah shifts beside me, tension humming through him, and for a second, I almost chicken out. But I promised him—promised myself—no more hiding.
“I’m…” I inhale, my chest tight. “I’m with Micah. He’s not just my friend. He’s… I’m in love with him.”
The words hang there, stark and undeniable.
Mom blinks, her hand coming to rest over her heart.
“Oh.” She exhales, small and shaky. “Oh, Colton…” Her voice wavers, as though she’s processing each piece out loud.
“I didn’t—I thought you and Jasmine…I didn’t know.
I didn’t know this was…” she trails off, eyes glassy, her world rearranging itself.
I feel Micah tense, ready to vanish, but I squeeze his hip, keeping him there. “I know,” I say quietly. “I never let you see it. But this—” I glance down at him, my chest aching. “This i s real, Mom. He’s real. I’ve loved him for a long time.”
She swallows hard, blinking fast. “Okay,” she whispers, saying it as if she’s trying the word on for size. “Okay. I love you. I just…I need to catch up, honey. I need a minute to catch up.”
I nod slowly, throat burning. “I’m not asking for permission,” I say, my voice steadier than I feel. “I just…I wanted you to know. I wanted you to hear it from me. Because I’m not going to keep pretending to be someone I’m not. I won’t hide him, or us.”
There’s a beat of silence, and then Mom lets out a breath—part sigh, part something that’s almost a laugh.
“Oh, Colton.” Her voice breaks a little, warm and real.
“Of course you’re not asking for permission.
You never needed that. Not from me. Not from your dad.
We just—” She shakes her head, still catching up.
“We love you. We’ve always loved you. That doesn’t change just because you’re being honest about who you are. ”
The words land hard, right in my chest, making my heart squeeze.
I didn’t realize how much I needed them until I heard them out loud.
I blink fast and duck my head, swallowing the lump in my throat. “Thanks, Mom.”
Beside me, Micah shifts just slightly—close enough that our thighs touch—and his fingers brush mine under the edge of the comforter, curling gently around them. Hidden from view, quiet and steady. A grounding point.
My mom’s still watching us, her expression flickering—grief and guilt swimming behind her eyes. “I always wondered why you never said more to us,” she says softly. “Why yo u were so determined to go to the school…to clear things up after everything that happened with Micah.”
Micah stiffens beside me.
Her voice cracks, but she keeps going. “Your father and I—we didn’t know how deep it went.
You just said it was wrong, that it got blown out of proportion, and that you had to fix it.
We didn’t push, but when the school dropped the case and welcomed Micah back…
” She trails off, her gaze flicking between the two of us. “I should’ve known.”
I swallow hard. “I didn’t let you.”
She nods slowly, eyes glistening. “No. You didn’t.”
A pause settles over the call, not heavy, but full. Like we’re all holding something between us that we’ve been carrying for too long.
Then she breathes out, softer now. “Well…don’t be strangers, you two. I expect to see you for dinner on Sunday. Both of you.”
Micah’s fingers tighten around mine beneath the comforter. He’s gone still beside me, trying to process it all without showing how hard it’s hitting him.
My throat tightens again. “Okay,” I say, voice rough. “We’ll be there.”
She offers a small, real smile. “Good. I’ll make that sweet potato casserole you like.”
Then she leans a little closer to the camera and says gently, “Hi, Micah.”
Micah clears his throat, lifting his chin slightly. “Hi, Mrs. Taylor.”
Her smile deepens, eyes shining. “It’s good to see you again.”
I end the call before the silence stretches too long, then set the phone down with a quiet exhale .
For a second, we don’t move. Just breathe. Just exist in the space between everything we said and everything we still don’t know how to say. The sun’s dipped lower outside, shadows stretching long across Micah’s walls, and the room feels wrapped in something warmer than just afternoon light.
Micah shifts beside me, pushing up on one elbow and leaning over me, his curls falling into his eyes.
There’s this look on his face—lit from the inside, almost stunned, like he’s seeing me for the first time but also seeing everything that’s always been there.
His mouth curves into a slow, brilliant smile.
“You really did it,” he says, voice low but filled with something bright and breathless.
I nod, my fingers brushing his jaw. “Yeah,” I whisper. “I did.”
He leans down and kisses me, soft and lingering, memorizing the shape of this new truth between us. And I let him, every cell in my body humming with relief, with hope, with something terrifyingly close to joy.
We don’t say anything else for a while. We don’t need to.
Because for once, we’re not pretending. And for once, we’re not alone in it.