Chapter 2 #2
When the car pulled up outside, I thanked the driver, grabbed my bag, and walked up the front path. I hesitated at the door, debating whether to knock, ring the bell, or turn around and pretend I hadn’t just flown back from LA because I couldn’t survive one more minute there.
A few seconds after I knocked, the lock clicked, and Mom opened the door wearing one of Dad’s old Air Force sweatshirts and pajama pants, her brow furrowing the second she saw me. “Rowan?”
“Hey, Mom.”
Her gaze dropped to the duffel on my shoulder before she opened the door wider and pulled me into a careful hug. “What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in LA.”
They’d wanted to come to my fight, but I’d talked them out of it, telling them it was just a debut on an undercard and not worth the drive. The truth was, I hadn’t been ready to look across an arena and see my parents watching me get punched in a cage.
“I’m not anymore.”
She eased back, keeping her hands on my arms as she studied my face. “What happened?”
“I need to borrow a car.”
“Come inside.” She took my hand and pulled me over the threshold before shutting and locking the door behind me.
Dad appeared in the entryway wearing a faded T-shirt and sweats. The faint scent of dinner still hung in the house, and I realized I hadn’t eaten in several hours, not even after my fight. “What’s going on?”
I set my duffel near the door. “I need to get my stuff from the rental house.”
Mom frowned. “You’re moving?”
“Yeah.”
Dad lifted a brow. “You couldn’t wait until morning?”
“No.”
“Rowan,” Mom started carefully.
“I can’t wait, okay?”
Her hand closed around my arm. “All right, but you need to tell us what happened first.”
“I just need the keys.”
“And you’ll get them.” She searched my face again. “Did something happen with Keaton?”
I almost lied, but I didn’t have the energy. “Yes.”
Mom’s grip softened. “Come sit down.”
I followed them into the living room, where Dad picked up the remote and muted the TV. I sat on the edge of the couch, and Mom settled beside me, keeping one hand around mine. Dad took the chair across from us, leaning forward with his forearms on his thighs.
“What happened with Keaton?” my mother asked.
Everything was spiraling, but I went with the truth. “I saw him with Devon.”
Mom’s brows knit together. “Devon from the gym?”
“Yeah.”
“With him, how?” Dad questioned.
I stared at my hands. “Devon kissed him.”
The words sounded too small for how much damage they’d done, especially when my parents didn’t understand what they meant. They didn’t know Keaton was gay, or that I was too.
“Okay?” My mom hesitated, and I looked up.
Dad glanced at her, then back at me. “I’m not following.”
“Rowan,” Mom said carefully, “why would Devon kissing Keaton make you leave LA and fly home?”
My heart hammered in my chest as I considered how to answer because once I explained, there would be no taking the words back. They’d know about me and Keaton, about the part of my life I’d kept hidden for years. “Because Keaton and I were together.”
Mom blinked, and Dad stared at me for a long second, trying to make sense of what I’d just said. “Together?” Mom asked softly.
I nodded, unable to look away from her.
“As in …?” She stopped, as if she were afraid the wrong words might hurt me.
“As in, he was mine,” I answered. “And I was his.”
Dad drew in a slow breath, but the anger I braced for never came. He just seemed stunned. “You and Keaton? The boy next door?”
“Yeah.”
Mom’s eyes filled with tears, and the hurt on her face made my stomach twist. “Oh, Rowan.”
“I should’ve told you.”
“I wish you had.” She reached for my hand and squeezed it. “But I’m not upset about you and Keaton. It hurts knowing you thought you had to carry this alone.”
My father’s attention remained on me. “How long were you together?”
I stared at the floor. “This time or when we first got together?” Mom inhaled sharply, but I kept my gaze down. “It started junior year,” I admitted, wishing the floor would swallow me whole. “I didn’t know how to tell anyone.”
She gasped and her hand left mine, so I glanced up and saw it pressed to her mouth. I couldn’t tell whether she was hurt that I’d been afraid to tell her or trying to reconcile what she’d just learned with every memory of Keaton in this house.
Dad sat with that for a second. “You were together back then?”
“Not officially, and never where anyone could see us, but yeah.”
“You never told us,” my mom whispered.
“I was scared.”
“Of us?” she asked, and the hurt in her voice twisted my stomach.
“No. Not exactly.” The answer still didn’t feel clear. “I was scared of everyone. School. The guys on my sports teams. What people would say. What Dad would think.”
He flinched as if I’d hit him. “What I would think?”
“You had this whole idea of who I was supposed to be.”
“Rowan.”
“You talked about the Air Force my whole life. Following in your footsteps. Being disciplined. Being strong. Doing things the right way. I didn’t know how to be that and be with him.”
“Son, being with Keaton doesn’t make you any less strong.”
“I know that now.”
“But you didn’t then,” Mom said.
I didn’t answer.
“Are you saying you thought we wouldn’t love you?” she asked.
“I didn’t know what would happen.”
“Oh, honey,” her voice broke. “I’m so sorry.”
Dad looked down for a second, then back at me. “Me too.”
“Don’t. This isn’t about that.”
“It’s a little about that,” he replied quietly. “If you were afraid to tell us who you loved, then it’s about that too.”
Loved.
The word sat between us, and I hated how true it was.
“You loved him?” my mom asked.
“Yeah,” I admitted.
“Back then?”
“Back then … Now.”
“That’s a long time to love someone and not be able to say it,” my father stated.
I let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”