Jameson
Last night was a fucking epic mistake. I knew it too. Why the hell do I let Dixon talk me into this shit? I know better. I knew it was a bad idea when I agreed, and yet, I was there. I wanted him to be waiting for me in that barn, and he was.
And I couldn’t keep my hands or lips off him. I’ve never felt that sort of desperate pull before. And I don’t know what to do with that.
But when I heard my father’s voice and saw him and my brother in the barn while I was half naked with Dixon, I’ve never been more afraid in my life.
I hate it. If I’d have been making out with a girl in the loft, my father wouldn’t have thought anything of it.
He would have told me to get dressed, walk the girl out, and then help him with the cows.
But I know if he’d have seen me with Dixon, it would have been different. He’d never look at me the same. Hell, he’d have never talked to me again. And as much as that sucks—as shitty as that is on his part—I look up to my dad. I care about what he thinks, even when I don’t want to.
And it kills me, knowing if I told him the truth about who I am, he’d probably hate me.
I get out of the shower and dry off, tying a towel around my waist, just as Adam walks into the bathroom. My parents have their own bathroom, but all of us boys share a single one upstairs. Plus, Adam and I share a bedroom. The other two boys share the other room. It gets pretty crowded.
But when he closes the door behind him, wearing a seriously stern look on his face, I know it’s not the bathroom he wants right now. “What the fuck are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking I don’t want to be late for school.” I grab my toothbrush, run it under the water, and then add toothpaste before brushing my teeth, hating this conversation already. When we locked eyes last night, I saw the confusion in his, but I also saw the smoldering anger.
“Dixon? Garrison fucking Dixon? Are you kidding me?” he hisses.
I brush and then spit the toothpaste in the sink, turning to him. “You’re worried it was Dixon? Not that it’s a guy?”
I keep my voice low, and so has he, so far.
You never know who’ll be walking past our bathroom.
“Of course, I’m worried because it’s a guy.
” I wince, my shoulders drooping slightly as I rinse my mouth and my toothbrush before leaving it in the holder.
“And also because it’s a loud fucking guy, Jameson. ”
I turn to look at him, studying him closely, trying my damnedest to keep up with what he’s saying. “He’s not that loud.”
He looks at me like I’m stupid. “The only louder guy in the entire school is Oakley, who happens to be his best friend. What if he tells Oakley? Can you imagine the talk in the locker room? It’ll be back to Dad before you get home from school.”
I shake my head at that. “No. You don’t know him that well. And yeah, he’s loud.” I kind of hate how endearing I find that lately. How I think he’s bold. I like that he easily says what’s on his mind. “But I’ve never heard him talk about a hookup before. He’s not like that.”
Adam doesn’t look convinced at all. He may be younger than me, but he’s more stern.
More serious. The protector. He wants Dad’s legacy fulfilled.
He wants this farm to do well. He works harder than all of us.
His best friend is Zachary, and I’ve watched him protect him, on and off the field for years, just like he does everyone else.
But he’s also fiercely competitive. He wants to win. He wants to be Dad’s favorite. He wants to be the best, and there was a moment last night when I thought for sure he’d tell Dad, just to have some sort of sick one-up on me.
But I know the protectiveness in him will win over the competitiveness every single time. And that’s what this is. That’s why he looked so angry last night—because he knows what this will do to our family if Dad saw.
And it makes my gut turn because it shouldn’t be like this.
“He’s a loudmouth. He loves a good story. You think fucking Jameson Bates isn’t a good story for him to tell?”
“Hey, he didn’t fuck me, first of all.” He doesn’t smile, not even a hint of a grin on his face. He’s forever stoic. “Second of all, no. I don’t think he’ll say a word. I trust him.”
Again with him looking at me like I’m totally insane.
“It’s Dixon,” he says his name with disdain, and I get it.
My brother likes to be in control, just like me.
We aren’t loud. We’re more the strong silent types, so it’s natural that guys like Oakley and Dixon make us nervous.
Make us uneasy as fuck. But I hate to admit this too—I’m starting to like that feeling. It’s a rush.
“I know. But I trust him. And you need to trust me.”
He shakes his head emphatically. “No. You could have gotten caught. Those fucking cows get out monthly. Hell, sometimes weekly. You can’t sneak around in the barn.
You know Dad. If he’d have seen . . .” He looks pale at the thought, and I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat because we both know.
I’ve heard it all my life. The homophobic bullshit. The little comments here and there. People talking about raising men the right way and not to be sissies. It’s sickening.
“Maybe I want something for myself. You ever think about that?”
He looks genuinely confused as he stares me down. “You have the farm. You have the promise of land and a farm of your own. Once you get married and settle down, we’ll all be building you a house, just like this one, on your own land.”
That’s always been the plan. The plan outlined for me. Marry a nice girl Dad approves of, get a chunk of this land, farm it just like Dad, and build a house just like Dad. And I don’t know how much longer I can stand the plan.
“It’s not my plan.”
He looks horrified because I’m not sure he’s ever deviated from a predetermined plan in his entire life. “Yes. It is. And he will ruin it.”
He. Dixon.
“Maybe I don’t want this plan. Maybe I don’t want a goddamn farm and acreage with a house I built with my bare hands. Maybe I want to live in a city in a fucking condo.”
He looks even more horrified now, staring at me like I’ve gone insane. But my chest expands with hope from saying that out loud. I honestly don’t think I want to live in a city, and I don’t want to live in a condo, but I do want something different. Or at least the option to do something different.
I like knowing what it feels like to have a big, larger-than-life guy on his knees for me. I like knowing I can be rough with him and he can take it. I like his rough hands and firm mouth, and I’m not ready to give that up.
“End. It.”
My eyes snap to my brother’s that are so full of fierce determination, almost as if he’s resigned to this life, and there’s no questioning it. Not ever. “No.”
“Jameson.” He sounds scared, and I hate it. His eyes plead with me.
“No, Adam.”
“You’ll ruin us all. You know that. If Dad finds out. If Dixon opens his fucking mouth, the entire town will know. It’s all they’ll talk about. Dad will be humiliated.”
“Why does it have to be like that? Why?” I feel sick, clutching my stomach because I know deep down, it shouldn’t matter.
But I also know this town. I know how they talk and how they think.
I also know my dad will feel shame because his son likes other guys.
And it’s fucking disgusting. “It shouldn’t matter. ”
He surprises me when he puts a hand on my shoulder and locks his eyes with mine.
“It shouldn’t. I don’t care who you’re fucking or who you’re attracted to.
It doesn’t change how I look at you, and it shouldn’t.
But you know Kensley. And you know Dad.” He stops for a minute, some thought running through his head before he speaks again, “I always thought you and Travis . . .”
I look at him, stunned. “You knew that I . . .” I swallow hard, forcing myself to take a deep breath. “That I’m bisexual?”
He frowns for a moment, seemingly thinking it over. “No. I didn’t know that was how you identified, but I thought maybe you had a thing for him. And that would be good.”
“Me and Travis?” I wrinkle my nose in thought. “That’s okay with you, but not me and Dixon?”
“Dixon is loud. Travis would keep it a secret.”
“I’m not doing anything wrong,” I say with more conviction than I feel.
Even knowing I’m not doing anything wrong, it still feels unacceptable because I’ve been conditioned to feel that way.
Because this town sees being gay or bisexual as something for the big cities.
Something the liberal media has blown up.
It’s so ridiculous, and logically, I know I’m not even close to the only one in this position here.
Hell, Dixon and Travis prove that. But still, I feel isolated in this town and always have.
“I know you aren’t.” He drops his hand from my shoulder and seems sympathetic. “But you can’t keep this up with him. You know that.”
“We’re just fooling around.”
“You’re going to get caught,” he says, and I hate that it still sounds like I’m doing something shameful.
“I want one damn thing for me. One.”
“And Dixon is that one thing?”
I think about Dixon’s shaggy blond hair and goofy grin. His cluelessness that’s only more endearing every damn day. And those sinful lips that keep me up at night, thinking about them.
“Yes.”
He shakes his head at me, looking disappointed, but he doesn’t argue with me anymore as he steps out of my way. I exit the bathroom, so he can get ready for school.
Maybe it’s selfish. Maybe it’s stupid. But I still, 100 percent, want to do it.