Page 187 of Finding Delaware

“Taylor and I are dating.”

I shout it out loud enough for the whole house to hear, cutting off her words. A shocked silence permeates the air, my dad and Maisie wearing matching expressions of astonishment. When Dad’s features morph into appalled, I speak again, feeling like I’ve just been shot in the chest.

“I love him. I have for years, and I won’t stand here and listen to you break him down when he’s already been broken enough by one parent. We all make mistakes and do things we regret, but people can change. He’s the one for me, and if you can’t accept that, then this is the last time you’ll see me.”

Without a backward glance, I exit the kitchen, intending to find Taylor so that I can kiss him breathless. It’s dead quiet in the house, aunts, uncles, and cousins gaping at me, but I don’t give a fuck. My feet barely make it through the dining room when Logan pulls me back by my arm, an odd look on his face. I’m surprised to have his attention on me, seeing as we haven’t talked in weeks.

“Taylor’s gone,” he rushes out, eyes like saucers, and my brows slam together.

“Gone? What do you mean, gone?”

“He heard everything Maisie said and got upset. Said he was going for a ride with my Uncle Dev before your big announcement.”

What the hell?

“Your uncle’s here? I didn’t even see him.”

We both hurry to the front door, my gaze sweeping over the porch and lawn, hoping to catch them before they leave, but they’re nowhere to be found.

Logan rubs the back of his neck. “He must have shown up shortly after you did because I didn’t see him either. I don’t think I told you this, but things between him and my family have been bad ever since he came out as bisexual.”

My stomach drops, my mind racing with all kinds of scenarios, jealousy simmering deep in my gut. What the fuck is Taylor thinking? He doesn’t even know Devon; why would he go off with a total stranger instead of talking to me? Pulling out my phone, I thumb over to the group chat, finding a message from him already sitting in the thread. I only smile slightly at the contact name he made for himself after I showed him the movieSuperbad:

McLovin: Sorry, Huck, I can’t be there anymore.

Met Logan’s uncle, he’s pretty chill. Offered me a ride on his motorcycle.

Stay as long as you need, there’s no rush. We’ll be at Flytrap when you’re ready.

A muttered curse leaves my throat. Flytrap is a gay bar in the next town over, about ten minutes from here. Why the fuck would he be going to a bar?With a strange bisexual man he’s never met?

Goddammit, Taylor. God-fucking-dammit.

"I gotta go.” Shoving my cell into my pocket, I march toward the Audi, seeing red. I’m about to shift into drive when thepassenger door opens, and Logan meets my bewildered gaze with a half-smile as he slides on his seatbelt.

“I’ve seen you two fight; someone’s gotta be there to limit the bloodshed.”

“Oh, trust me,” I growl, taking off down the road, “you don’t want to witness the things I’m gonna do to him. Not unless you want therapy afterwards.”

He only shakes his head, saying nothing during the drive while ‘Blackout’ by Breathe Carolina blasts through my speakers. We’re almost to the bar when he turns to me thoughtfully.

“Did you mean it? What you said to your dad and Maisie about Taylor?”

“What? They’ll never see me again if they can’t accept Taylor and I?” At his nod, I give him one of my own. “I meant every word. The way I feel about him, Loge...it’s everything. They’ve got him all wrong, and if they won’t take the time to understand him, then I want nothing to do with them. He’s my priority. I won’t lose him because of what they think.”

He’s quiet for a long time, processing my words, and I have a feeling he’s thinking about his own issues, but I’m too anxious right now to ask him about it. I definitely will later, after I’ve taught my boyfriend a lesson about getting into vehicles with strangers since he didn’t learn when I bent him over my knee for picking up a hitchhiker.

Seriously, this motherfucker is going to make my blood pressure higher than it already is.

The parking lot is packed by the time we pull in, sunset on the horizon. Flytrap is on the smaller end, but as the only gay bar in the surrounding rural areas, it draws quite the crowd. I’ve never been inside, but Royce mentions the place fromtime to time. People exit and enter the front wooden door in all kinds of attire, ranging from patriotic body suits for the holiday to leather halters and platform boots.

Music thumps from the sound system when we step up to the large bouncer at the door, giving him our IDs, and as we make it onto the dance floor, I search the space for my man. It’s not lost on me how similar this is to the frat party, how much our stories intertwine like the universe is trying to find our perfect balance. Like finding Delaware.

We saddle up to the bar, pushing between people to get the bartender’s attention. He’s wearing nothing but a pleated skirt and a bow tie, bare torso on display, and his eyes light up when he catches me waving at him.

“What can I get for you, sweetheart?” He leans an elbow on the countertop, a seductive smile playing on his lips. I pull up a photo of Taylor on my phone that I took at the San Diego Zoo back in California.

“Have you seen this guy around?”

---