Kingston and Camden even come back here a lot, just to hang out, and no one says a word. They’ve showed the town what love looks like, and it’s a beautiful thing. Same with Garrison and Jameson.
My parents are cool as hell. I get why he’s nervous, but I know my parents. They’ll be fine. I think. I hope.
I don’t want to be wrong and see him get hurt, but I meant what I said. If they have any sort of problem with Travis, or me, or Travis and me, I’ll leave. I’ll let them think about it and come back, because I know they’re good people.
When we pull up to the house I grew up in, I can’t help but smile wide as I look up at the white country house my great grandpa built and my parents later moved into when he passed away.
We climb out of the truck and close our doors, walking up to the house, side by side. Then I stop to notice the porch swing is looking a little worn. Travis grins at my side. “You want to fix it up, don’t you?”
He knows me too well. “When it gets warmer, I’m going to. It’s like a hundred years old—literally—though, so I want to be careful with it.”
He places a hand on my shoulder and smiles sweetly. “I have no doubt it will be in good hands.”
“Careful. That sounded like a compliment.”
He looks like he wants to lean in, kiss my lips hard, and I want the same thing. But when I lean in, he pulls back, his eyes on the front door of the house. “Let’s go inside.”
Ah, it’s going to be like that. “Trav,” He starts toward the door, but I grab his hand and pull his body to mine. “If I want to kiss you, I will. As long as you want me to kiss you too.”
It’s cold as fuck out here, fat snowflakes falling on our heads, but I don’t move. I just stare him down and wait. His shoulders sag, and he shakes his head. “I don’t want to ruin Thanksgiving.”
I laugh at that and grasp the back of his neck, laying a hearty kiss on his lips, not wanting to pull away from him as I taste that sweet mouth. His hand moves to my chest, but he doesn’t push me away. He pulls me in, and I smile against his lips. “You could never ruin Thanksgiving by kissing me,” I breathe against him, my lungs stinging from the cold.
“And if your parents saw that little display?” he asks me, but he doesn’t move away from me.
My head turns toward the front door, a small grin on my lips as I see my dad and mom standing at the open door, watching us cautiously, but there’s no look of horror there. Nothing that says they’re shocked or pissed off or any of the things Travis was worried about. My dad just stands up a little taller and clears his throat, making Travis look that way.
He freezes, and I wrap my arm around his shoulder. “Mom, Dad. You guys remember Travis?”
His body is so damn tense, but mine’s not. I have faith in the two people who raised me. They raised me to be a good person. To befriend the shy kids. To be a leader. And when my mom smiles and waves us in exaggeratedly, I know I was right. “Well, get in here. It’s too damn cold.”
“It’s not that bad, woman,” my dad says, and she gives him a haughty look, but it’s all playful. My parents are ridiculously in love.
“Don’t tell me it’s not that cold out there, boy, or you’ll be eating your dinner out in the snow,” she shoots back at my father, and he only looks at her with love in his eyes.
He looks at both of us pointedly. “You coming in?”
Travis looks at me, and I smile, kissing the tip of his nose before answering my dad. “Yup.” I drag Travis along by his hand, and he drags his feet, still clearly uncertain, but he walks inside.
We leave our wet boots by the door before my dad wraps his big arms around me for a hug. Mom turns to Travis first. “Oakley didn’t tell us he was bringing anyone home, but I’m sure glad he did.”
“You are?” Travis looks shocked and honestly a little pale. I hope he doesn’t pass out.
“Of course.” My mom’s cheeks pinken a little as she gestures toward the front door. “I’m assuming by that little display we witnessed, you must be someone special to him?” It’s said like a question, and I know it’s not one Travis wants to answer.
“Mom,” I drag out her name dramatically, and she winks at Travis before pulling him in for a big hug.
My dad shakes his hand, and then we’re directed to the living room after removing our coats where the football game is, of course, on. “Please tell me you like football?” My dad looks at Travis way too hopefully.
“Yeah. I do,” he answers, and my dad looks pleased.
“Finally, Oakley brings home someone who likes football.”
“Dad,” I say, rolling my eyes. My parents are so embarrassing, but Travis is grinning.
“What? Your girlfriends in high school didn’t like football?”
“Not one of them,” my dad answers.
“I didn’t have girlfriends,” I say dejectedly because oh my God, I didn’t. Not really. I did make the mistake of bringing by a couple of girls I’d hooked up with, though, and neither of them wanted to sit and watch a game. But I know plenty of girls who do.
“Choosing them right for once, son,” my dad says, and then he winks at Travis. I shake my head, but I see Travis starting to relax, and I send a silent thank you to my dad because I know that’s what he was trying to do.
Hours later, the house is loud with my cousins and aunts and uncles all packed inside the house. The football game has been turned up, and Travis is having a conversation with my cousin Amelia about college. She’s planning to go in two years and major in veterinary science or some shit.
My mom pulls me to the side, keeping her voice quiet. “You could have told me about him before, you know?”
I grab an olive from one of the trays she’s left out to hold people over for the turkey. “I don’t really know what it is between us, so there wasn’t anything to tell.”
She studies me carefully, her mom eyes just staring into my soul. “You don’t know what it is now? Or you didn’t?”
I shrug. “I don’t. Not really. But he was alone for Thanksgiving, and I couldn’t have that.”
She frowns now, her brow all crinkled. “His family didn’t want him to come home?” She looks over at Travis, and I can see her hotheaded side is coming out. “Because he’s . . . ?” Her eyes meet mine. “I don’t know what he identifies as.”
I smile because my mom is cool. “Gay. He’s gay, Mom.”
She smiles, satisfied with that answer, but still her blood is boiling. “And his parents don’t want him at home because of that?”
I pop another olive into my mouth and shake my head. “No. I don’t think they even know about that. They’re pissed because he didn’t want to take over the farm.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ,” she says waving that off, and I can’t help but laugh. When she gets all fired up, my mom is pretty funny. “Some people just shouldn’t be parents.”
“True story,” I say, but then I look over at Travis and think if his parents weren’t parents and he wasn’t here, I wouldn’t like that at all. “Anyway,”—I look back at my mom, who’s pulling a pie out of the oven—“he was alone, and I wanted him to come meet you all.”