Page 42 of Loving You

“I took it for my language last year,” Lucas said, fiddling with his braille Rubix cube. He’d never solved it, but it had become one of his favorite stim toys when he was at home. He twisted the squares, making them click. “Who’s your little cabbage?”

Bronx flushed harder. “Uh. No one. I just heard the term, and I was curious about it. Anyway, how was work?”

“Smooth,” Lucas said dryly. He reached forward and felt for the table, sliding the cube next to his empty glass, then sat back and rested his arms behind his head. “And it was good. It was…I don’t know. Weird, I guess. I mean, I’ve never had a job, so I was nervous as hell, but Marc was really cool.”

Bronx stiffened. “Lane wasn’t training you?”

“Uh, no? He’s the owner. I don’t think he trains line cooks. Marc’s basically his right-hand man, and he was super cool about everything. He’s going to be running the food truck, so Lane wanted to see how well we worked together.”

Right. Bronx had known that…hadn’t he? God, his head was such a mess. “So you liked him.”

“Mhm. Yep.” Lucas stood up and walked over to the kitchen table, setting his hands down and leaning toward Bronx. “You’re being weird. What are you hiding.”

“Jesus, it’s like you have ESP.”

“No. I just know when my boring dad, who should be stressed about his new business, is being weird about something else. You have a boyfriend, don’t you?”

Bronx choked, which he knew immediately gave him away, and he slapped a hand over his face. “He’s not a boyfriend. He’s a friend.”

Lucas stood upright and lifted both hands into the air. “And who is this ‘friend’?” he demanded.

“Oh, for fuh—uh, heck’s sake, who showed you air quotes?”

“Gage,” Lucas said with a shit-eating grin. “And don’t dodge the question, young man. Who is he?”

Bronx didn’t want to say. Not now. Not yet. It felt strange talking to his son about this stuff. Realistically, he knew that one day, he and Lucas would have a relationship that resembled friends more than father and son. That was just how aging worked. And hell, he was looking forward to it. Just…not so soon.

It also didn’t help that he’d tried to keep Lucas away from all his personal drama, but that had cut Lucas off from him so much he almost felt like a stranger. So maybe it was time to share.

“You know the guy who offered to let you use his plane for flying lessons?”

Lucas’s face lit up. “The hot French guy?”

“You…don’t…I…” Bronx flopped forward, dropping his face to the table, and groaned. “Please don’t call him hot.”

“Why? Because youlikehim?” Lucas crooned.

Bronx turned his head to the side so he could look at his son. “Truthfully, I don’t know what I’m feeling. Or what I’m allowed to feel. After your dad, I just…” He swallowed heavily. “It’s a lot. I never thought I’d have to start over like this.”

Luke felt for a chair, pulling it out softly, and he sat. His fingers crept over the table until he found Bronx’s hand, and he squeezed it. “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be a buttface.”

Bronx snorted and lifted up on his forearm. “You’re not being a buttface. I just didn’t want to burden you with all this adult crap I’m dealing with. You have enough on your plate. I know I made a mess of things before, and I want to make it right.”

Lucas sighed. “Can I meet him? I mean, I know I’m going to meet him when Kylen takes me up, but?—”

“No, yeah. I already invited him to dinner this week,” Bronx confessed. “Things got a little complicated last night, and we figured I should talk to you before you meet him for the lesson.”

Lucas worried his lower lip between his teeth. “You like him though, right?”

“A lot.”

“But you’re not dating.”

Bronx bowed his head. “No.”

“Is this because ofhim?” His tone told Bronx exactly who Lucas meant.

“Your dad?”

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