Page 94 of The Doctor's Truth

Kenzi matches his smile. “We’re great.” Her walls have gone up again. She’s behind a defense I can’t climb.

“Cool,” Jason says. “You wanna get the fuck out of here?”

I chime in. “Please.”

46

Kenzi

We don’t get quite the same treatment leaving the King residence as we did entering. Rather than the all-smiles greeting committee, we get a couple of tight-lipped grimaces, quick pats on the back, and hope to see you soons that sound less than genuine.

Mr. King has daggers in his eyes, and I can’t wait to be outside of range.

We make it through the cold and into Jason’s car, and Jason has to let the car run for a minute in park, blasting heat on the window shield to clear the crystals.

The second we’re in, Donovan lets out a whoop from the back. “Hands down, the strangest dinner party I’ve ever been to,” he says.

Jason lets out a bit of a laugh. “Yeah, it was…a lot.”

The window clears enough, so he puts the car into gear and pulls us out of the parking lot. I’m not sad to watch the King mansion vanish in the distance. Jason has a mile-long stare, though, as he watches the road ahead.

“How’re you feeling about it?” I ask and slip my hand over his leg.

“Which part?” he asks.

I shrug. “Seeing your ex. Coming out to your family. All of it, I guess.”

The dim light from the headlights casts intense shadows over his face, and I can see the muscles in his jaw tighten as he picks his words carefully. “Lighter,” he finally says. “Scared. But in a good way.”

“Scared…about what?” I press. “Are you worried about what your parents will think?”

This, too, takes him a second to consider. “No,” he says and sounds surprised by his own response. “Honestly? I don’t give a rat’s ass what they think.”

“So what are you nervous about?”

He rubs his hands over the steering wheel once. “That was the first time I’ve ever said it out loud to anyone. Even myself. Honestly…I’m not even sure I know what it means to be bisexual.”

“It means you’re greedy,” Donovan says from the back.

I roll my eyes and give Jason’s thigh a squeeze. “It doesn’t have to mean anything. You’re the same person you were two hours ago. You’re just…a more honest version of the guy you were before.”

“Honest,” Jason says, and the word seems to carry some weight the way he says it. “Yeah. I like that.”

Guilt, the ever-present crab on my shoulder, gives me a pinch. I rub the back of my neck to ward the feeling away.

“What do you want to do now?” Donovan asks.

Jason seems to think about it; then, suddenly, he veers. We come to a quick stop at the side of the road, where he parks the car. “I want to go for a swim,” he says, as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Then he unbuckles and gets out of the car.

Donovan and I exchange a glance. “Are we…supposed to follow him?” Donovan asks.

“I am.” I unbuckle my seat belt, and the car complains with small beeps as I get out of the passenger side.

We’re right on the Bayside. I take my shoes off and step off the edge of the road and onto the sand. I have to tread through dune grass, its tendrils capped in ice, until I get to the beach.

Jason is already at the edge of the water. He kicks off his loafers and, without hesitating, dives into the surf. Nice suit and all. When he resurfaces, he lets out a shout. But he’s grinning.

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