Page 80 of Whiskey Neat

“Let me call the guys.” Kit pulls his phone from his front pocket.

Just a few minutes later, all six of us gather near the front of the bar. Salem is gone, of course, but so is my head. All I can think about is this Jackson dude trying to make a play for Salem, and him being filled with a sense of nostalgia and considering it. What I can’t figure out is why I care so much. It’s not like I haven’t had my share of fuck buddies and juggled them depending on my mood. Shouldn’t I want Salem to feel free enough to do whatever he wants?

The thought turns my stomach, and when I blink, I’m sitting in Low’s SUV, completely unaware of how I got here. Whoa. I am checked the fuck out.

“Do you want to talk about anything?” Low asks softly.

“No.” I glance out the window. “But thanks.”

“Of course.”

I wouldn’t even know where to begin other than admitting that Salem has me fucked up.

TWENTY-SIX

SALEM

Sitting across the table from Jackson in the same diner we used to hang out at after school is surreal. It’s like a time warp, except we’re both older and at least one of us has a wall up that no one could scale. Not even Indy.

The waitress drops off our coffee and Jackson cups his mug, shifting in his seat. “Thanks for meeting.”

“Sure.” I’m not offering him one single thing to help this conversation along.

“I’m really sorry,” he says. “About all of it. I didn’t know at the time what made me react the way I did.”

“No? A strong desire not to be bullied and ostracized is a pretty valid reason.”

He exhales, still gazing down at his coffee. “That’s what I thought it was until a few years ago.”

“A few years ago?”

He nods, finally looking up. It’s kind of wild to see him now. He was kind of a geeky kid in high school—skinny, with glasses and acne—but he’s definitely matured into his looks. Still skinny with glasses, but he looks like a literature professor on casual Friday in his dad jeans and black polo shirt. His brown-blond hair was always unruly curls when we were kids, but it’s trimmed close to the scalp now, giving him a slight wave. His green eyes and tan skin always stood out.

“Several years into my marriage, I was struggling. I wasn’t happy and I should’ve been. My wife was—” He shakes his head. “—everything a guy could want. Awesome mom, caring, funny. Really pretty. Accomplished at work. We made a good team, but something was still missing for me. I didn’t know how to deal with it, so unfortunately I was looking in all the wrong places.”

I sip my coffee, completely interested now.

“After everyone went to bed at night I would sneak out and go to bars and stuff. It didn’t take me long to find myself at gay hangouts.”

I raise a brow. “Oh?”

Jackson nods. “One sloppy hookup and I knew what was wrong with my marriage. I’d made a huge mistake.”

“Shit,” I whisper. “You’re gay?”

“Yep. I wasn’t ready to accept it though. Not even close. I pushed it down and went home and did my best to be a good husband and love my wife the way she deserved.” He rubs his forehead. “And I do love her, emotionally, but it wasn’t romantic love.”

“Damn, Jackson.”

He nods with a bitter smile on his lips. “That went on for years, me denying who I am and leaning in so hard to my marriage and the life we built, but…” He twists his lips as his cheeks turn red. “After a while I found myself looking again.”

“Going out?”

“Yeah. I couldn’t resist, and it was getting out of control quickly. I decided apps were safer than trolling bars, and before I knew it, I was sneaking out almost nightly. She never suspected a thing.”

“How?”

“We had really separate nighttime routines. She went to bed early and I stayed up late, often sleeping in the den. I’d be there again in the morning where she left me, so…” He shrugs.

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