“No, it’s not,” Isaac said. “I’m tough. I’m a badass, grumpy motherfucker who’s hardened by the world and doesn’t give a shit.”
A laugh tumbled from my lips. “Such a scary, cynical, harsh man. It’s a wonder how anyone can stand to be around you.”
“The cynical is not incorrect.”
“Eh, maybe, but mostly you’re the guy who would do anything for a friend or someone you love. The guy who’s funny and enjoys making people laugh. You’re a little cocky, but in an endearing way, not an asshole-ish one. But you also know how to be vulnerable, even if you like to pretend you don’t, and you worry about others before yourself. You make me happier than I ever thought I could be…which is odd, considering I always thought of myself as happy before. Funny how that can change when you see how much better things can get.”
His gaze dashed toward me, then away, a small smile curling the corners of his lips. “Fuck, I kinda feel like I should pull over and blow you for that. It was a good speech.”
“It was, wasn’t it? One of my best. Must be the subject matter.”
“Who’s the one with the heart breaking out of their chest now?” Isaac asked.
“Still you.”
“You’re ruining my reputation, Lane.”
“You’re ruining my reputation, Lane,” I mocked, and we both laughed, which lessened some of the heaviness inside us.
We kept the conversation going for the rest of the drive to our parents’ house. I couldn’t pretend I wasn’t nervous too, my gut weighed down like someone had filled it with rocks. But I just…didn’t want to hide us anymore. The situation didn’t matter. What Isaac and I had was beautiful and shouldn’t be locked away.
“I’ve dated a lot of people over the years,” I said when Isaac pulled into the driveway.
“I hate them all,” he joked.
“Yes, dear. We know you’re possessive,” I teased back. “My point is, I had so many chances to bring someone home, but I never did. I don’t count Jayden because I didn’t want to with him. I did it because I wanted to be home, and that was my way to do it. But those people, I didn’t share them because no matter how much I liked them, deep down I knew it wasn’t real. You’re real, Isaac. We’re real together. And I don’t want to keep that hidden like there’s something wrong with it.”
He reached out, ran his hand through my hair, let it rest on my nape. “I love you. I am so crazy, fucking in love with you, Lane Ryan.”
“I love you too. Now let’s go do this. It’ll be okay. I have to believe that.” I wasn’t sure if I was lying to myself about that or not.
I could hear the TV blaring when we got there. I knocked and pushed the door open. Timothy was sitting on the couch, watching a Western I didn’t recognize. He’d always loved them, but they’d never been my thing. When we were kids, Isaac used to watch them with him. I’d asked him once what he liked about them, and he’d said spending time with his dad.
Isaac looked up to his father more than he ever verbalized. Timothy was the kind of dad who’d take us camping or play football in the backyard with Isaac when we were kids—he was better at those things than words anyway—and I’d always known that more than anything, Isaac wanted to make his dad proud. To make him happy and to be like him.
There was a lot at risk for both of us in being together. It could change a lot of things.
“Is that Willie Nelson?” I asked.
“Yeah. It’s Red Headed Stranger,” Isaac replied.
“You remember that?” Timothy asked.
“Yep. How’s it going, Dad?” Isaac bent over the couch and gave him a one-armed hug.
The house smelled like apples, so I knew Mom was either making a crisp or a pie. She loved both.
“I’m fine,” Timothy said. “Is everything okay with you? Your mother is worried.” His gaze darted toward me, then back to Isaac.
“We’re good,” Isaac replied.
“Hey, Timothy. Having a good weekend?” I clapped my hand on his shoulder. He frowned slightly, and I figured it was because I’d been calling him by his name recently. That had to make him wonder.
“Yep. Good to be off work.”
“Are the boys here?” Mom came around the corner. “Oh, hi, you are.”
I gave her a hug and kissed her forehead.
“It smells good, Helena,” Isaac told her.
“Crisp or pie?” I asked.
“Pie,” Mom answered. “You know I bake when I’m nervous…well, I also bake for fun, but you get the gist. What’s going on? It sounded like something’s wrong when you called.”
Leave it to Mom to jump right in. “Nothing’s wrong, Mom.” My gaze caught on Isaac’s. “At least we hope it doesn’t feel that way to you. But why don’t you finish baking first. Let’s just spend some time together.”
“I pulled the pie out before I came into the living room, and we can spend time together afterward. You know me. I’ll drive myself crazy until I know.” She was already wringing her hands.
I watched as Dad—Timothy—stood. He looked back and forth between Isaac and me. “Helena, why don’t we let the boys talk to us when they’re ready?”
It hit me then that Timothy knew. Holy fuck, he knew. For how long, I didn’t know, but there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that he did.
“Lane?” Mom asked, more concerned now. Timothy headed toward her.
I opened my mouth to say it wasn’t a big deal. We were making this out to be a life-and-death sort of conversation—
“I’m in love with Lane,” Isaac said simply. “I, um…I’ve loved him since he first moved into this house and he was all hair and gangly limbs, always drawing, watching the world, watching me, and seeing more than I thought I was showing.”
He was across the room from us, me beside Mom and Timothy, who’d reached her by then, but I couldn’t pull my stare away from Isaac. He was so fucking brave. So honest. I loved him even more in that moment.
“I’m in love with Isaac too.”
“But…but you’re brothers,” Mom said, confusion softening her voice.
“Why don’t the four of us sit down?” Timothy said.
“Not to us,” I told her. “I mean, we are, but we’re not.”
“Well, you’re brothers to us. We raised you that way.” Mom’s voice was a little stronger now, a little more set in its way. I’d expected it, we both had, but it was still like a knife to the heart. “How long has this been going on? Oh God, since you were teenagers? In our home?”
“No.” I shook my head. This was already unraveling.
“But Isaac said he’s loved you since we moved in. What were you boys doing? Did you…?” Her gaze snapped to Isaac.
“Did he what?” Timothy asked, suspicion in his voice, and clearly offended. “Are you accusing Isaac of doing something inappropriate with Lane?”
My stomach sank deeper, more rocks shoved down my throat. It was even worse than I’d thought. I’d assumed they would be confused, but more of a united front. The last thing I wanted was to get between Mom and Timothy.