Chapter 30
“Do you outline your work?” Jesse asked me the next day, helping me organize my files.
Ty had finished renovating my office, giving me a beautiful, polished space with the right amount of antique Victorian feel mixed with the necessary modern necessities I needed for work.
The space was everything I’d hoped for, with custom built-in bookshelves, an antique desk with a hidden compartment—Ty added that for me as a surprise—and colors of deep, rich blues and golds.
He’d even modified an antique cabinet to put my safe in without making it obvious.
The room was perfect.
Waking up that morning, I’d had no idea what waited for me.
He’d asked me to stay out of the room while he worked. I hadn’t known he was done until Jesse showed up this morning with a note from Ty.
I thought you might need something to keep from missing me this weekend. Surprise, baby. Your office is finished. I can’t wait to come home and read all those amazingly filthy things you write.
I’m going to miss you, scribbler.
Completely yours,
Ty
Oh, and if you happen to feel like taking a picture or ten of you naked on your desk, those sexy legs of yours spread, I wouldn’t mind at all. :)
I was going to do more than take a picture, I thought. In fact, once Lock was in bed, I was going to send Ty a little video. I wanted to FaceTime him, but he and Wade were on their camping trip, having left early in the morning, and I didn’t want to intrude.
“Phoebe?”
Shaking my head, I offered Jesse a smile of apology. “Sorry. No, I don’t generally outline my work.”
Getting up from the floor, I went to the safe, opening it. I started to place some of my contracts and my latest manuscript that hadn’t been sent to my publisher inside. For good measure, I added the notes Ty had given me over the last month, not wanting Lock to come across them.
“How come?” Jesse took a box of books and headed over to the bookshelf, filling it.
I thought about that. “Your characters already know their story. You’re just the tool they use to tell it. If you write an outline, that’s you trying to tell them which lane to drive in. That said, outlining really works for some writers. It isn’t a case of right or wrong.”
“But what about genre requirements?” Jesse put a series of hard copies of Cursed Bonds, bound in special cloth binding, a gift from my publisher, on the shelf.
While we worked, we talked about all kinds of things from writing limitations to how to structure your story.
While we talked, I watched Jesse become more and more despondent.
At one point, I stopped him. “Jesse, what’s wrong?”
Jesse’s lips trembled.
“Hey.” I gave him a hug. “Whatever it is, it will be okay.”
He hugged me back for several minutes and then sniffled. I reached for the tissue on my desk, handing him one.
“It’s not bad,” Jesse finally said. “Well, some people may think it’s bad.”
Leading him to the couch in the corner, I sat him down and waited. I, more than anyone, knew that sometimes you had to let people say what they wanted to in their own time.
He shifted nervously, and I reached out a hand, offering my silent support. “I—I think. I’m gay,” he blurted out.
Without hesitation, I said, “I know.”
“What?” Jesse snapped his head up, shocked and frightened.
“Part of being a writer, or at least for me, is people watching. I study them, trying to figure out who they are, not just who they pretend to be.” Cupping his face, I wiped the tear sliding down his cheek.
“You are a wonderful young man, Jesse. I see who you are. Who you love is not going to change that.”
He looked like he was going to cry more. Without warning, he threw his arms around me, sobbing into my sweater.
I rubbed his back. Poor boy. To be so afraid of people accepting who you are…I couldn’t imagine that.
Couldn’t you? a voice asked in my head.
I’d spent my life hiding. Hiding my writing.
My hopes. My dreams. Hiding myself. Now I was hiding my relationship with Ty.
It wasn’t anything near the level of fear I knew people like Jesse had.
Not even close, but seeing his bravery in telling me, in saying it out loud, I felt shame settle over me.
Jesse had more courage in his little finger than I did. It was a humbling realization.
We talked about why he was afraid to come out. I knew Cady-Jo would accept him no matter what. He said he felt like lately he couldn’t talk to her. She was being strange but didn’t elaborate further.
“What about Ty?” I knew Ty would love his brother always.
Jesse gave me a funny look. “You mean, Mr. I-Work-With-My-Hands-And-Fucked-Two-Women-At-The-Same-Time-On-New-Year’s, he-man, Ty?”
Fucked two women at New Year’s?
My mouth went dry, and I had to remind myself that I hadn’t even known Ty then. Two women…
“So it’s like that?” Jesse smirked, looking like his older brother despite the fact he had his mother’s red hair.
“Like what?” I played dumb, still reeling from the thought of Ty with two women at the same time. Did he want that now? Would he want that? I couldn’t do that.
“You and Ty.” Jesse sat back, a sly grin on his face. On the one hand, I was happy he wasn’t crying. On the other, I didn’t love that I might have just revealed something to him. I was dealing with another writer here and I forgot.
My phone chose that moment to ring. Saved by the bell.
Getting up, I grabbed my phone. “Hey, Helen.”
“Phoebe, how are you?” She had her lawyer voice on.
“I’m all right, just organizing some things at the house. You?”
“I’m well.” Not a Helen answer, which rocked me. “I’m at my office and was wondering if you would be able to come in to go over a few things?” Her voice revealed nothing.
“Umm, I have Lock here—”
“Go!” Jesse urged me. “I’ll watch Lock and keep unpacking if you want?”
I nodded at him. “Okay, Helen. I’ll be there in fifteen minutes.”
Hanging up, I went over everything Jesse needed to know about Lock and what he needed to get ready for his visit with his friend. Russell and his parents were coming from Atlanta so the boys could see each other, and I wanted everything ready.
Grabbing my purse, I didn’t think anything about leaving my safe open or the things I’d left in it in my office.
On my way out the door, I was surprised to find Delilah there.
When I opened the door, she screamed, nearly falling on her butt.
I’d rushed to her, grabbing her arm before she pitched backwards.
Once I knew she was okay, I’d asked her what she was doing here.
She was extremely pale, and I worried she wasn’t well.
She’d claimed she’d come to ask Jesse about some project she needed help with.
Telling her to make herself at home, I hollered that there was some soup in the freezer that Jesse should heat up for her. The poor kid really did look unwell.