Chapter 11 Kent
Kent
I’d insisted that James and I drive separately to dinner with the parents.
He didn’t seem to understand why it mattered or why I wanted to perpetuate this facade that Brittany and I were still together.
Hell, even I was starting to wonder if it was worth it.
But at the same time, I didn’t want to deal with all the questions and the pity.
I didn’t even really want to go to dinner in the first place.
And yet, there I was, pulling into their driveway not thirty seconds after James did.
I sat in the truck for a moment, trying to force my brain to quiet down.
I couldn’t shake this thought that my dad would know something had changed about me.
Stacey, I had no doubt, would pick up on the fact that I wasn’t with Brittany anymore.
But I couldn’t let either of them find out about these feelings I was having for James.
These… urges. If anyone found out about that, my life would be ruined.
I took a deep breath and got out of the truck.
James was already at the front door, waiting for me with his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked annoyed, which seemed to be his default expression around me these days. I couldn’t really blame him.
“You ready for this?” he asked as I approached.
“Not even a little bit.”
He rang the doorbell, and within seconds Stacey flung the door open with that bright, artificial smile she always wore when she was trying too hard.
“My boys!” she exclaimed, pulling James into a hug first. He hugged her back, though he looked a bit stiff. Then she turned to me, and I let her embrace me even though every muscle in my body wanted to retreat. “Come in, come in! Your father just opened a bottle of wine.”
The house smelled like roasted chicken and rosemary, which would have been comforting if I wasn’t dreading every second of this evening. I followed James inside, watching the way he moved through the space like he’d rather be anywhere else. At least we had that in common.
Dad appeared from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “There they are,” he said, his voice warm. He shook James’s hand first. They’d always had this weird, formal distance between them. Then he pulled me into a one-armed hug. “Good to see you, son. Where’s Brittany?”
And there it was. The question I’d been dreading straight out of the gate.
“She couldn’t make it,” I said, the lie sliding out easier than I expected. “She had a work thing.”
Stacey’s face fell slightly. “Oh, that’s too bad. I was hoping to see her. It’s been ages.”
“Yeah, she’s been busy,” I added, digging myself deeper into the hole.
James shot me a look that I couldn’t quite read. Judgment, maybe. Or pity. I looked away.
“Well, hopefully next time,” Stacey said, recovering quickly. “James, what about you? Are you seeing anyone?”
I watched James’s expression shift, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth despite his obvious desire to keep this visit short. “Actually, yeah. His name is Trevor.”
Dad let out a small huff and Stacey shot him a dirty look. “Oh, how wonderful!” She clasped her hands together. “Tell us about him.”
As James launched into a description of Trevor, I felt something twist in my chest. It wasn’t jealousy.
It couldn’t be jealousy. That would be insane, or at least that’s what I kept telling myself.
But watching him talk about this guy, seeing the way his face softened when he mentioned how kind Trevor was, made me feel. .. angry.
“He sounds lovely,” Stacey said. “You’ll have to bring him around sometime.”
“Maybe,” James said noncommittally.
Dad gestured toward the dining room, clearly not enthusiastic about the idea either. He’d never been very fond of what he called James’s life choices. “Well, let’s eat before it gets cold. Kent, you want a beer?”
I began to say yes, but then I stopped myself, remembering my drunken night a couple of days ago that ended in disaster. “Just a soda for me if you’ve got it.”
Dad raised an eyebrow but didn’t comment, just headed back to the kitchen. James followed Stacey into the dining room, and I trailed behind them, feeling like I was walking to my own execution.
The table was set with Stacey’s good china, the kind she only brought out for special occasions. I wondered what made tonight special enough to warrant it. Probably just her desperate attempt to pretend we were a normal, functional family.
We took our seats. James was across from me, Stacey and Dad at either end as always. And for a few minutes, there was just the sound of plates being passed and glasses being filled. Dad came back with my Coke and set it down in front of me with a little more force than necessary.
“So,” Dad said, cutting into his chicken. “Kent, how’s work going? Derek treating you alright?”
“Yeah, it’s fine,” I said, pushing food around my plate. “Actually, had a meeting with him the other day. Might be getting a promotion.”
“That’s good. You need to be thinking about your future, especially now that you and Brittany are getting serious.”
I nearly choked on my water. “Right. Yeah.”
Stacey jumped in, bless her. “And James, how’s your job? Still doing the graphic design thing?”
“It’s going well,” James said. “Just started a big project for a new client. We’ve got a meeting tomorrow to go over concepts for their rebrand.”
“That’s wonderful, honey.” Stacey beamed at him, and I saw Dad’s jaw tighten slightly. He’d never understood what James did for a living, always acted like it wasn’t a real job because he worked from home.
“Must be nice,” Dad said, his tone casual but with an edge to it. “Setting your own hours, working in your pajamas.”
“I don’t work in my pajamas,” James replied evenly.
“Well, whatever you wear. Point is, it’s not exactly a traditional career path.”
I felt the temperature in the room drop a few degrees. This was how it always went. Dad would make these little digs, and James would either ignore them or fire back, and the whole evening would spiral from there.
“It pays my bills,” James said, his voice tight. “And I’m good at it.”
“I’m not saying you’re not,” Dad continued, taking a sip of his wine. “Just seems like a lot of young people these days want the easy route. No structure, no real accountability.”
“That’s not fair,” Stacey interjected. “James works very hard.”
“I’m sure he does. I’m just making an observation.” Dad turned his attention to me. “Kent here, he understands the value of showing up somewhere every day, putting in the work. That’s how you build character.”
I wanted to sink through the floor. This wasn’t about work ethic and we all knew it. This was Dad’s way of taking shots at James without directly addressing what he really had a problem with.
“Dad,” I started, but James cut me off.
“You know what? I’m not doing this tonight.” James set down his fork. “If you have something to say to me, just say it. Don’t hide behind this passive-aggressive bullshit about my career.”
“James, language,” Stacey said weakly.
“I don’t appreciate that tone,” Dad said, his voice hardening. “I opened my home to you—”
“This is Mom’s home too,” James shot back. “And last time I checked, I was invited here.”
The tension was suffocating. I looked down at my plate, wishing I’d never agreed to come.
“Fine,” Dad said, leaning back in his chair.
“You want me to be direct? I think you’re making your life harder than it needs to be.
All these choices you’re making… First you want to go to art school, then you’re not gonna work a real job, then you’re queer.
And now you’re parading around with some guy named Trevor, acting like it’s something to be proud of. ”
The silence that followed was deafening. Stacey looked like she might cry. James’s face had gone pale, then flushed red.
“There it is,” James said quietly. “There’s the real issue.”
Something inside me snapped. I don’t know if it was the look on James’s face, or the way Dad sat there so self-righteous, or the fact that I’d spent the last week living with James and seeing him as an actual person instead of just the stepbrother I’d tormented in high school for the exact same reasons my father did now.
But whatever it was, I couldn’t stay silent.
“That’s enough,” I heard myself say.
Everyone turned to look at me.
“What?” Dad asked.
“I said that’s enough.” My heart was pounding. “You don’t get to talk to him like that.”
Dad’s expression shifted to confusion, then something darker. “Excuse me?”
“James hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s just living his life. And yeah, I was an asshole to him about it too in the beginning, but I was wrong. And you’re wrong too.”
I could feel James staring at me, but I kept my eyes on Dad. If I looked at James now, I’d lose my nerve.
“Kent,” Dad said slowly. “I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but—”
“Nothing’s gotten into me. I’m just tired of watching you treat him like there’s something wrong with him when there isn’t.” The words kept coming, like a dam had broken. “He’s not hurting anyone. He’s not doing anything wrong. And honestly? He’s got his shit together way more than I do.”
Stacey had tears in her eyes now, but she was smiling. Dad just looked stunned.
“I think we should go,” James said quietly, standing up.
“James, please,” Stacey started, but he was already heading for the door.
I stood up too, intending to follow him.
But I stopped after only a step or two, turning back to my father.
“And just for your information, Brittany and I broke up. She kicked me out because I’m a fuck-up and I treated her bad.
Because I treated her the way you treat Stacey.
” I couldn’t bring myself to look at Stacey.
Instead, I focused on my father’s face that was growing redder by the second.
“And you know who took me in? Who gave me a place to stay even though I’m an asshole? James.”
“You know I would have—”
“I don’t care, Dad,” I barked, cutting him off. “James is the reason I have a roof over my head and food to eat right now. So, if you want to see me again, you’ll apologize to him. Right now.”
Dad sat there for a long moment, the muscles in his jaw working. “I don’t have anything to apologize for,” he said at last. “I’m entitled to my opinions.”
“Fine,” I nodded. “Then I’m entitled to not speak to you anymore.” I turned to Stacey as I walked you. “I’m sorry you have to put up with this. And I’m sorry if I was ever like this to you.”
I left the dining room before she could respond, my legs feeling unsteady beneath me. The front door was still open where James had gone through, and I found him standing by his car, arms crossed, staring at nothing in particular.
“James,” I called out.
He didn’t turn around. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“Yeah, I did.” I walked closer, stopping a few feet away. My hands were shaking, so I shoved them in my pockets. “I should have done it years ago.”
“Why now?” He finally looked at me, and there was something in his expression I couldn’t quite name. He looked confused and maybe a little… proud.
I didn’t have a good answer for that. Or maybe I did, but I wasn’t ready to say it out loud. “Because it was the right thing to do.”
He studied me for a long moment, like he was trying to solve a puzzle. “Are you okay?”
The question caught me off guard. After everything that just happened, after I’d just blown up my relationship with my father, he was asking if I was okay.
“I don’t know,” I admitted. “Probably not.”
James nodded slowly. “Do you want to grab food somewhere? Actual food, not whatever that disaster was.”
I almost said no. Part of me wanted to get in my truck and drive until I couldn’t think anymore. But the larger part, the part that had been growing stronger since I’d moved into his apartment, wanted to stay near him.
“Yeah,” I said. “That sounds good.”