Page 32 of Dark & Deceitful

“What?”

“Are you dating a man?” The words rush out because it’s happening! It’s finally happening!

Please be brave. Please be brave. You can do this.

“Am I…” Fog chokes on his words. “Am I…”

“Dating a man?” I urge, far less chill than I planned to be when the day came.

“Mom.”

“Is that a yes?” My feet can’t stop moving as I wiggle in place.

My son’s frown deepens to the point if anyone sees us, they fear for my life, but I’m not worried. He’s not mad. He’s struggling. “Mom, why are you dancing?”

Unable to stop, I wiggle, wiggle, wiggle in the rocks, creating a small crater with my feet. “Because… I’m excited! Are you dating a man?” I sound hopeful, too hopeful.

“Mom, you’re freakin’ me out.”

“Because you’re ready to tell me you’re gay?”

You’ve got this. You’ve got it, Fog. Just say the words. Say the damn words!

“Mom.”

“What?” I jam an eager hand into my pocket to pull out the red tiger’s eye crystal and offer it to my son—for courage.

With a shake of his head and the cutest of crooked grins, he places his palm out, face up. I drop the crystal right onto his heartline, and he crushes his fist around it like it’s a lifeline as he breathes in deep, expanding his chest. Tears well in his eyes as he swallows thickly. Then, the moment happens. The sky opens, and the world aligns, and finally, fucking finally, my son utters the words I’ve been waiting on forever. “Yes. I’m dating a man.”

Slamming my body into Fog’s with more force than I intend, he crashes into the back of the building as I wrap him into the biggest mama bear hug. Laughing with tears trickling down his cheeks, he returns the embrace and encases me in his cushysoftness. I stuff my nose between his pecs and breathe in the fresh scent of mint and man.

“I’m so proud of you,” I speak to his heart. To his brave soul.

“Thanks, Mom.” He chuckles wetly and kisses the top of my head.

“So. So. Proud!” I crow into the cotton of his shirt.

Resting my cheek against his sternum, arms locked around his middle, I listen to the wild beat of Fog’s heart as his chest expands with deep, emotional breaths. Imbuing all my love through our connection, I wait for him to soak in the realness of the moment and relax. Inside my head, I whisper encouragement and mantras of strength handed down to me from my mother—Om Gam Ganapataye Namaha. Eventually, a quiet calm descends, his tense muscles uncoil, and his heart rate returns to normal. Only then do I break our embrace and step back far enough to look him in the eye but close enough to reach up and thumb away the wetness cascading down his cheek.

“You already knew, huh?” The slightest grin ticks up at the corner of Fog’s mouth.

“Of course I did. For many years.” I’m a mother. We notice things.

He squeezes his fist around the crystal still in his hand. “And you just waited?” He sounds offended.

“Yes.” I’d wait forever if I had to. That’s what mothers do.

“Why? This would have been a lot easier if you’d have told me you knew.”

“It’s not my place to tell you who you are. You’d tell me whenever you were ready.”

“I’ve been stressing over this for years.”

I shrug. “Well, no more stressing.”

“That’s not so easy,” Fog groans. “I’m a biker. Liking dick isn’t widely supported.”

This is true, but the Sacred Sinners aren’t like other clubs. Sure, you have your assholes, but a gay couple—Bear and Ghost, run the Texas chapter, and nobody gives a damn.

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