Page 29 of The Liar's Reckoning

I laugh. “Why would you assume anyone didthat?”

“You’re not unattractive, Senator.”

I can’t help the broad smile that breaks on my face. “Oh, thank you. That’s nice of you to say. But no—once you turn down a couple of invitations, people stop asking.”

“Why turn them down, though?”

“Because what if they were a set up?” It’s an answer that begsfor therapy, but just because I had a little chest hair didn’t mean I automatically started trusting people again.

“So, your isolation was a trauma response.”

“Maybe.”

“I guess that makes sense.”

“Also,” I add, “I was afraid if I let myself go to some party and get drunk or smoke some weed, not only would that come back to bite me in the future, but also that I wouldn’t necessarily be able to hide…”

“The fact that you’re not straight?” Silas asks when I trail off.

“Yeah.”

“When did that one hot kiss happen?” he asks.

“Law school. Didn’t I tell you that?”

“I’m just wondering how it managed to happen if you never went out?”

“It was a school function. An award ceremony. There was a man—Rhett—a teaching assistant in my civic law class. We started talking when other people started mingling and we wound up outside so he could vape. Next thing I knew, he was shoving his tongue down my throat and grinding… Anyway—a group of people came outside, and it stopped. Never happened again.”

“Why not? You didn’t like it?”

“Idid, but he never spoke to me after that. Pretended it never happened—or maybe he forgot. I don’t know. I figured it was for the best. It was an incredibly risky situation, and I didn’t need the distraction. I’ll be honest—my entire campaign, I was on edge, thinking someone might have gotten a picture, and it would surface in October—blowing any chance I might have had at winning. Or he’d send me some sort of blackmail threat.”

I still worry about that. I realize being a Republican isn’t exactly popular with the LGBTQ+ community. I don’t know what kind of pressure I’ll be facing in the actual senate once I’m sworn in, or what the years before me will look like—mybackbone has yet to be put to any real test. While I have certain beliefs that differ from my family’s world view—specifically that my being attracted to men isn’t a sin—I don’t know what the next six years hold or what will be required of me.

I trust my ability to put country over party—to find gray areas and exploit them—to act more moderately and find common ground, but I also recognize that I’m walking a thin line between what would benefit my family and people like us versus what would benefit the greater good of the country. I hope I don’t let anyone down. Including Silas, although if he voted, I’m relatively sure he didn’t vote for me.

“I’m assuming you can’t afford blackmail?” Silas asks, bringing my mind back to the topic at hand—Rhett Butler’s rock-hard thigh against my aching erection and his hot tongue in my mouth.

“Honestly, if it came down to that, my family would almost certainly handle it,” I say. They might never speak to me again if they found out the truth about me, but they’d make the truth disappear from public view. Of that I have no doubt.

“Can you afford to live up here, Graham?”

“I mean, it’s tight. You’ve got your mom—I have a sister who needs a lot of help, which I’m happy to do, but I have a back-up plan in case things ever take a turn.”

“Mind if I ask?”

“I own a property—an apartment in Chelsea. I could always sell it. It was a gift from my parents when I graduated law school. A no-strings gift if you can believe it. Avery doesn’t even know about it.”

“Sneaky.”

“I live my life with the full understanding that things could fall apart at any moment.”

“I’ve never heard a guy like you say anything remotely like that.”

“A guy like me?”

“You know—white guy born with a silver spoon in his mouth. You dudes don’t usually plan for bad shit. More like you’re entitled to all the good stuff.”

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