Chapter 8 #3
Dexter’s face twisted up immediately, like the very idea of discussing this was enough to physically pain him. “I... no. Not exactly? I don’t know.”
Grey and I exchanged a look.
That was a weird answer.
“Are... you confused?” I asked carefully.
Dexter sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, his expression unreadable. “I don’t know.”
He sounded more frustrated at himself than at us.
Then, after a moment, he huffed out a breath and straightened. “Okay, I’ll paint you a clearer picture. My mom and dad split after he cheated on her... with a man.”
Oh.
That was... a lot.
Grey and I didn’t say anything, waiting for him to go on.
“My mom was obviously really hurt by that,” Dexter continued, his voice more measured now.
“She stopped me from seeing my dad for a long time. We had a pretty strained relationship growing up, and with me being raised in the church on top of all that... Sexuality and gender have always been kind of a... hard subject for me, I guess.”
His fingers twitched against his knee.
“Seeing other people explore it? I don’t care. It doesn’t bother me. I don’t think it should bother anyone, actually.” He lifted his eyes again, his expression serious, almost resolute. “But for myself? I don’t know.”
His words trailed off, his brow knitting together like even he wasn’t sure where to go from there.
I felt bad for him.
To be only seventeen and struggling with all of that?
The weight of family tension, the confusion of trying to figure himself out, the pressure of expectations that had been ingrained in him since childhood because of religion—it was a lot.
And I certainly didn’t envy him.
I remembered being in high school and feeling like my world was so damn small. Like everything inside those walls—the friendships, the rivalries, the whispered rumors, the expectations—was both the beginning and the end of the world.
Every decision felt monumental. Every emotion felt life-altering.
There was no stepping back, no breathing room. Just this constant feeling of needing to figure everything out right now before it was too late.
But now? Now that I was out in the real world?
Those times felt like a lifetime ago. Like a closed chapter in a book I barely recognized as my own.
Grey let out a low whistle, shaking his head. “Man, that’s rough.”
Dexter let out a half-hearted chuckle, though there wasn’t much humor behind it. “Yeah. It is.”
I watched him carefully, my own thoughts shifting.
It wasn’t my place to tell him how to feel or how to process his own identity, but I got it, at least a little.
That complicated, tangled-up mess of trying to reconcile who you thought you were versus what you eventually had to stare at in the mirror, how you thought things were supposed to be but actually were wildly different?
Yeah. That was rough as hell.
But something told me he wasn’t looking for pity.
He was just... saying it. Laying it out.
And I respected that.
“Look,” I said, reaching over to clap a firm hand on his shoulder.
His body tensed for a fraction of a second before he relaxed into the touch, listening intently.
“Don’t try and figure yourself out before you’re ready.
You take the time you need, and don’t let anyone—even us fools—tell you otherwise. ”
His eyes flickered toward mine, something unreadable in them, but he didn’t interrupt.
“Who you are and who you’re meant to be will come in time,” I continued, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Trust me. You’ll figure it out. And I’m sorry to hear about your parents and about the church—that’s a lot. But thankfully, you haven’t got much left to go before college, right?”
Dexter blew out a slow breath, nodding slightly. “Yeah. That’s true. I... That’s kind of the main reason I wanted to go away for college.”
I hummed, squeezing his shoulder one more time before pulling back. “Makes sense. Spread your wings, Dex. You seriously won’t regret it. Even Grey and I didn’t—and we’re mega close with our brother.”
His gaze bounced between us, his fingers absently twisting around a loose thread on his sleeve.
Slowly, his shoulders relaxed.
And then, in a voice so quiet, he whispered, “Thank you.”
Grey flashed him an easy smile. “No need to thank us. I think you’re probably gonna be stuck with us for a long while at this rate.”
Dexter let out a slightly watery laugh, barely catching it before he quickly brushed a hand under his eyes. His fingers moved fast, like he wasn’t ready to admit that this conversation had hit deeper than expected.
And then—
“I’ve got a theory my dad wants to propose.”
Grey and I both froze. Our mouths dropped open in sync. “What?!”
Dexter immediately threw up his hands. “Don’t say anything to your brother. I don’t have any confirmation it’s true.”
Grey cackled, smacking his palm against the floor and scattering the pile of cards everywhere. “Oh, you are so stuck with us! Congrats!”
Dexter groaned, but the small, reluctant smile creeping onto his face said everything.
“Good thing we’re excellent brothers,” I said, moving to throw my arm over both of his shoulders.
“We’ll see about that,” he drawled.