Page 82 of Resist Me

“You’ll always think that. It’s your job to be proud of me.”

Her laugh brought a smile to my face. “Your mom was the same way. Always finding little things to criticize when she played.”

“She played everything perfectly.”

“Exactly. Being our own worst critic helps us grow, but there’s a point when we’re really just criticizing ourselves because it’s become a habit. Even the best in the world can find something to hate about their work.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Always am, kiddo. How’s that friend of yours with the pests?”

“He’s kind of a pest,” I muttered before I cleared my throat. “Fine, I’m sure, but it’d be better if your crew did it.”

She laughed and I could imagine the amusement in her green eyes. “You could leave that place behind and join the family business, although I know that you’d never do that. You’ve got the same spirit as your parents. I just…”

I downed the rest of the drink to give myself something to do. She was using the tone that told me something sentimental was coming.

“I wish they could see how far you’ve come,” she went on. “How far all of us have come. Those years when there was a rift between us will always be my greatest regret.”

“It’s okay, gran. You know that I love you guys and you’ve done right by me since they died.”

Her shuddering breath made my chest ache. My grandparents hadn’t always been supportive of the people I loved. They had deeply ingrained beliefs that had, at one point, halted their relationship with me and my parents.

I announced that I was gay when I was ten. My parents had seemed surprised, but they accepted me without hesitation and made sure that I knew how much they loved me. Nothing changed between us. It was when my grandparents found out that things got a little rough.

After telling them, they made a big deal out of it. They claimed that I was too young to understand what I was talking about, too young to make any decisions regarding my sexuality, as if this was something I’d chosen. We didn’t see them for a long time and when we started spending holidays together again, it was awkward. They’d grown, though, and when I was sixteen, they apologized. It didn’t fix the way they’d made me feel, but we began to rebuild.

It was after my parents died that things changed with them the most. I went to live with them to finish my senior year of high school. When I’d been there a month, we had a really long talk. I was shocked to find out that they’d not only done some self-reflection; they’d also joined a group of people who were similar to them, one that educated them so they’d get a better understanding of LGBTQ people. So, they’d become some of my biggest supporters. If they hadn’t, I probably wouldn’t have healed from the loss of my parents as well as I had.

“Well,” she said through a sniffle. “If you don’t find someone to love soon, I might lose all hope, Lincoln.”

“I’m twenty-two. There’s still time.”

“Back in my day, that was old enough to have three kids already.”

“Back in your day,” I laughed. “I think you’ve just gone a little senile.”

“That’s what you have to look forward to. You need a lovely man by your side when you do. Being crazy is a lot more fun with a person who’s just as crazy as you are.”

The way that crazy bastard just popped into my head… I missed having him in my bed, even though he was a blanket thief and an aggressive cuddler.

I stared at his text for a long moment, but I didn’t respond.

Chapter 28

West

As I threw the ball to Willow, I couldn’t help but glance across the field every once in a while. Linc was playing with some of the team, laughing and seemingly having a good time. Since he was now out of the game, it was just for fun and I would’ve loved to join him, if only to show him that I could throw better than him. Maybe we could have a real duel this time, although I wasn’t opposed to rolling around in the rain together again.

Clearly, I was a coward. I couldn’t be mad about him leaving the other day. He was right about being too old for games. I wasn’t trying to play one, but this wasn’t exactly easy. Why did it have to be him, for fuck’s sake?

Leaning to the right, I caught the ball. Willow’s throw wasn’t great, but she’d practiced with me throughout the years, so she knew what she was doing well enough. She was a competitive little shit and couldn’t stand the idea of being beneath me. In this regard, she’d eventually given up because, obviously, I was significantly better than her.

“Drool less,” she called.

“Breathe less,” I returned.

She jogged over to me and snatched the ball. “Why are you being such a tool?”

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