Chapter 32
Chapter Thirty-Two
When I was a kid, Sundays in the summer meant going to the farmer’s market. After church, Mom would drive us downtown, and we’d wander the rows of stalls, weaving through crates of sweet corn and mounds of raspberries. It was our little ritual.
Today, after weeks of watching her energy drain away, Mom surprised us by saying she wanted to go. Maddie and I agreed instantly. It felt like a small miracle, seeing that spark of her old self again.
She even insisted I invite Hunter. I never really doubted she’d accept me being gay. She raised us on the belief that Jesus loves everyone, and anyone who used the Bible as an excuse for bigotry was a coward. Still, watching her welcome Hunter so easily makes my heart stutter.
We pick him up on the way to the farmer’s market, and he squeezes into the backseat with Maddie.
I catch glimpses of him in the rearview mirror while he yaps with her about Harmony Heartz.
My chest tightens at the sight of him—his dark hair falling soft across his eyes, the blue checkered button-up hanging loose over a white T-shirt, those jeans clinging perfectly to his thighs.
When we park, Hunter carefully helps Mom down from my truck, his hand steady on her thin shoulder. She squeezes his hand and thanks him with a warm expression in her eyes.
She uses a walker now, and every step looks like it hurts her more than she’ll admit. I keep my arm looped through hers as we inch down the first row of vendors. Maddie skips a few feet ahead, darting toward every stand that catches her attention.
Mom stops in front of a stall piled high with pint containers of red cherries. She rests her hand on the edge of the table and smiles faintly. “You used to beg for these every summer, Mason. Do you remember?”
I glance at the fruit, and I can still taste it—the sweet flavor exploding on my tongue, blended with a tart bite.
“You’d eat the whole container on the car ride home,” she continues. “By the time we pulled into the driveway, your fingers would be stained red.”
I smile at the memory. “My blood sugar always spiked afterwards, and I’d feel awful, but it was worth it.”
Mom’s eyes crinkle with laughter, but there’s a wet sheen in them too. She picks up a pint from the table, her hands trembling slightly, and passes it to me. “Why don’t we get some today?”
I nod, my throat tight. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”
Across the street, Maddie beckons Mom to a stall with goat-milk soap. I watch fondly as they pick up the bars, smelling them and giggling together. Hunter stays glued at my side, a canvas tote slung over his shoulder, already overflowing with vegetables and flowers.
I turn to the man behind the table. He’s maybe a couple years older than me with pale blue eyes and shaggy blond hair tucked under a black baseball cap. There’s something familiar about him, though I can’t place the name.
“Hey. You’re Mason Burke, right?” he asks, hesitant but grinning.
I stiffen. “Um, yeah.”
“I’m Ashton, Luke Tremblay’s older brother.” His smile widens as he grabs my hand in that half-handshake, half-bro hug I’ve never quite mastered. It’s awkward.
“We went to high school together,” he continues. “I was a senior when you were a sophomore, I think.”
The memories come back in flashes—football games, crowded lunch tables, him always hanging around Luke.
“Oh, right,” I say, forcing a laugh. “How’ve you been?”
“I’m great, man! Our dad retired this year, so I’m taking over the family orchard.” He gestures toward the cherries. “You went off to college, didn’t you?”
The question makes me tense. Before I can fumble for words, Hunter’s hand presses gently to the small of my back, his thumb drawing calming circles.
“Uh, yeah, but I moved back here a couple years ago,” I reply, scratching the back of my neck.
Ashton’s gaze dips—not at my face, but at Hunter’s arm around me. His expression tightens, and suddenly the air feels hot, prickling against my skin.
“So… it’s true?” he says, voice lowering. “The rumors?”
I clear my throat. “What do you mean?”
“You’re… gay?” His eyes flick to Hunter, then back to me. “I heard you kissed a guy on the Fourth of July.”
Black fog creeps at the edges of my vision. Of course he knows—half of Claremont Shores has probably heard it by now. In this town, nothing stays private.
“Mason, c’mon. Let’s just go,” Hunter mutters quietly, tugging at my sleeve, but my sneakers stick stubbornly to the ground.
“Hey, I don’t judge,” Ashton says quickly, hands raised. “It’s just… surprising. You were such a ladies’ man in high school. Luke swore the rumor was bullshit.”
I square my shoulders. “Not that it’s any of your business—or Luke’s—but yeah, I’m gay.”
“Oh.” Ashton blinks, lips parted. “Wow.”
I shove cash into his palm, hard enough to throw him off balance. “Thanks for the cherries. Really great catching up,” I sneer.
He stammers something in reply, but I don’t give him a chance. My hand finds Hunter’s, fingers locking tight as I drag him away. We weave through the crowd, but I can still feel Ashton’s gaze burning into my back—heavy, suffocating, pressing down on my lungs.
“Mason?” Mom’s voice cuts through the haze as we reach her. She’s standing at the goat-milk soap stall with Maddie. Her eyes—sharp despite their tiredness—focus on me. “You okay, sweetheart?”
I nod too quickly, clutching the pint of cherries. “Yeah.”
We move slowly down the next row, the wheels of Mom’s walker rumbling over the cracked pavement. Maddie flits ahead with bubbly enthusiasm, stopping at every stand, pointing out sunflowers taller than she is.
I can’t focus.
Everywhere I look, I feel eyes glued to me.
The couple at the peach stand. The old man buying green beans.
The teenage girls whispering by the bakery tent.
My whirling mind supplies their thoughts.
That’s Mason Burke. Didn’t you hear? He kissed a guy.
He’s with that boy now. Isn’t that his sick mom? How sad. How shameful.
My grip on Hunter’s hand tightens, then loosens. The noise in my chest builds until I can’t stand it anymore, and I pull away, shoving both fists in my pockets.
Hunter glances at me, confusion flickering in his eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but I catch the way his hand drops back to his side, empty.
Mom and Maddie stop at a fruit stall and buy a bag of chocolate-covered blueberries. They tear into it right away, Maddie giggling as she shoves one into Mom’s mouth. The sight should make me smile, but the noise inside me only roars louder.
Hunter shifts closer, lowering his voice. “Mase, are you okay?”
I nod quickly, avoiding his eyes. “Yeah. It’s just… crowded.”
He doesn’t look convinced, but he lets it go, slipping his hands into his pockets like me. We walk in silence, the space between us suddenly feeling wide, even though we’re shoulder to shoulder.
And then someone laughs behind us—loud, sharp, careless. My stomach knots. It probably has nothing to do with me, but I hear it anyway: They’re laughing at you. At Hunter.
The pressure in my chest snaps like a rubber band.
“I need some air,” I huff sharply.
Mom and Maddie look back, their smiles faltering. Concern washes over Hunter’s face as he reaches out to grab my hand, but I flinch away. I don’t miss the pain that stings in his eyes when I reject him.
“Mason,” Mom scolds, eyes narrowed at me. “What’s gotten into you?”
“I’m fine,” I snap, louder than I should. Heads turn. Heat burns up the back of my neck. “I just—I need to be alone for a few minutes.”
Before anyone can stop me, I rush down the sidewalk, cutting between stalls, shoving past a couple with a stroller. The market blurs around me in a haze of color and chatter. I don’t stop moving until I’m clear of the crowd.
I find a bench tucked against the edge of the parking lot and drop onto it, elbows braced against my knees. My lungs heave like I’ve just finished a sprint, though all I did was run from a crowd of people buying fresh fruit and craft beer.
This is what I signed up for, isn’t it? The cost of not hiding anymore. I told myself I was ready for this—stares, whispers, strangers deciding who I am before I even speak.
I drag a hand through my curls, tugging hard at the roots. Their judgment feels like it’s seared into my skin, and I hate it. I hate that I’m letting it get to me.
Still… I can’t ignore the truth that pulses under the shame and panic: it’s worth it. All of it. Because I’ve never been happier than I am when I’m with Hunter. I’ve never felt more like myself than when I’m holding his hand.
I sit there until my breathing evens out, until the shaking in my chest settles into a dull ache. Then I push myself up and head back into the market.
When I find Mom and Maddie again, they’re sitting on a bench near the flower stalls, the walker parked neatly at Mom’s side.
Hunter isn’t with them. My stomach sinks.
“Where’s Hunter?” I ask, scanning the crowd. Maybe he just stepped away to buy more flowers.
Mom’s face softens, but there’s a pinch of disappointment around her eyes. “He said he was going to walk home. He thought you didn’t want him here.”
The words land heavy in my stomach. “What? That’s not—” My voice cracks, and I bite it back, ashamed of the desperate edge.
Maddie folds her arms across her chest, glaring at me like I’m the world’s biggest idiot. “Can you blame him? You stormed off like a toddler having a tantrum. No wonder he thinks you don’t want him around.”
I open my mouth, but no defense comes out. Because she’s right.
She leans forward, stabbing me with her sharp little finger. “You need to fix this, Mason. Right now. I like Hunter a lot more than any of those girlfriends you dragged home in high school—”
“Hunter’s not my boyfriend,” I say firmly.
Maddie rolls her eyes. “Whatever. He cares about you. And you’re an idiot if you ruin this thing with him just because you can’t handle a couple people staring.”
I stare at her, floored. My little sister, bossing me around in front of Mom.
Mom only smiles faintly, tired but approving. “She’s not wrong.”
Maddie flicks her hand toward the street, as if shooing me. “Go find him. Apologize and make it right.”
I nod, my throat tight, and turn down the road he would’ve taken home. The sun is harsh, the crowd still buzzing with chatter, but all of it feels distant now. All that matters is Hunter—Hunter, who thought I didn’t want him.
The pulse in my neck pounds with each step as I race down the sidewalk, hoping it’s not already too late to show him how I feel. When I finally see the back of his shirt, my heart skitters.
“Hunter, wait!”
I watch in agony as he walks away from me, earbuds in, tote bag bouncing on his shoulder with each step. Through the crowd of people, all I can see is him. Nobody else matters.
I jog forward, weaving through bodies. When I finally catch up, I pluck a bud from his ear. He spins around, mouth parted in shock.
“Jesus,” he exhales, pressing a hand over his chest. “You scared me, Mason.”
I bend over, hands braced on my knees, lungs burning. Jesus. My cardio health isn’t what it used to be. I really need to start swimming on a regular basis again.
“Why the fuck did you leave?” I rasp out.
He arches a brow. “You clearly don’t want me here.”
“Of course I do!”
He scoffs, snatching the earbud from my hand. “Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it.” He turns, starting to walk off again.
I lunge in front of him, planting myself on the sidewalk like a barricade. He stops short, nose scrunched in annoyance. It’s probably supposed to look intimidating, but all I can think is—God, he’s cute.
“Get out of my way, Mase. I don’t want to be somewhere I’m not wanted.”
“I want you, Hunter.”
His eyes flash with anger. I’ve never seen him this mad before—not even the night we met. Part of me is proud of him for having the confidence to stand up for himself, even if it’s against me.
“Then what the fuck was that back there?” he demands. “Dropping my hand like I was nothing? Storming off?”
I shake my head. “I’m sorry for leaving. I just needed a minute to calm down.”
“Why? What was bothering you? Are you ashamed to be seen with me?” he asks, arms crossed over his chest.
“No! But this is all new to me—the whole being out of the closet thing. I’m not used to all the… stares.”
He frowns. “Well, maybe you should’ve thought about that before you kissed me in public. I’m sorry it’s caused you so much trouble—”
“I don’t regret it,” I cut in quickly, my hands anchoring to his shoulders. “I swear.”
He still doesn’t look at me, his gaze fixed somewhere past my ear, distant and cold.
“You have to be patient with me, Hunter. Please.” My hand lifts, brushing along his cheek. “I’m figuring it out as I go. But I swear—I don’t want to push you away. Not you.”
Finally, his eyes meet mine, glistening. Something in my chest splinters at the sight.
“Babyface,” I whisper, threading my fingers into his soft hair. “Please. I don’t want to fight. We’ve only got three more weeks until you leave. I don’t want to waste a second.”
His throat bobs as he swallows. “I don’t want to fight either,” he says quietly. “But I’m not wasting my time on someone who doesn’t really want me. I’ve done that before, and it almost broke me.”
Guilt twists in my chest. The last thing I ever wanted was to make him feel unwanted.
“Of course I want you,” I say firmly. “Don’t be an idiot. I was just scared, that’s all. But I want to spend time with you. What we’ve had this summer… it means something to me.”
His lips part, uncertain, but before he can argue, I close the space.
My mouth presses against his, desperate and soft all at once.
He resists for half a heartbeat before melting into me, arms circling my waist, pulling me closer.
The noise of the market fades—the chatter, the footsteps, the rustling of plastic bags—and it’s just us.
Just Hunter and the way he kisses like he can’t get enough of me.
When we finally break apart, he rests his forehead against mine, breath ragged. “You’re such an asshole,” he whispers. But his smile betrays him.
“Yeah,” I grin weakly. “I’ve been trying to tell you that all summer.”
He laughs under his breath, shaking his head. I slip my fingers through his, holding tight. This time, I won’t let go.