Page 70 of The Step Dare

Even when I was younger, I would help him decorate. Back then, I wasn’t climbing the ladders and sitting on the roof, but he always found jobs for me to do, always wanted me to be involved so then we could unveil together whatever light-filled extravagance he came up with.

With his work in construction, Dad is good at these things, and he had me working with my hands for as long as I can remember. I enjoy doing it with him, and while it started out as something we did for Mom, and then for ourselves after she passed, it’s cool to be doing it for Nicole and Taylor. We both know that seeing all the colors and decorations will put a smile on their faces. And while I’ve always enjoyed this time with Dad, this year it feels like a new way of moving forward.

I hand him the strand, help him stretch it out, and we begin stapling them down.

“You doing okay, Bren?” Dad asks as we work.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” But I know what he means, and honestly, I’m feeling some kind of something.

“Christmas has always been an important time of year for us. God, your mom loved it. Do you remember how often she would play holiday music? Every year I would swear I never wanted to hear it again, but by the next year, I was ready to see her smile when she would sing along.”

The memory of her blooms in my mind, seeing her smile, hearing her singing. “Remember when you would dance with her in the kitchen?”

“You pretended you hated it.”

“I didn’t,” I admit. Of course, at the time, I thought it was gross seeing how much my parents loved each other, but deep down I knew it wasn’t. It made me happy, made me want what they had one day, and when we lost her, made me want to do anything in my power not to care about someone so much.

But you failed at that, didn’t you?

“I know.” Dad reaches over and places a hand on my shoulder. “But this…you’re okay? Us doing this on Nicole’s house? You were feeling some conflicting emotions, and that’s valid. I can imagine heading into the holidays, us decorating Nic’s house… It’s okay if you’re having a hard time.”

“I know,” I tell him, and I do. He’s so fucking great. The best dad a guy could ask for—and even more proof that Taylor and I are doing the right thing by waiting to tell them about us until after the wedding. Until we know what this is. But strangely, part of me wants to talk to Dad about him. I’ve never told him about anyone I was sleeping with before, but those people weren’t Taylor. “I’m good. I promise. I can’t pretend I don’t miss her or that this isn’t new territory for us, but I love seeing you happy, and I like doing this for Nicole and Taylor too. They deserve someone good in their lives, and now they have you.”

“They have us,” Dad amends. “You’re pretty awesome.”

“The awesomest,” I tease, and we laugh.

“You get it from me,” Dad tosses back, and we share another chuckle. “Taylor is good with it all too? Nic and I…you’re both the most important things, and we worry.”

“He’s all right. He really just wants his mom happy the way I want you happy.”

“Nic and I really are lucky. We have the best sons.”

I smirk. “Clearly.”

We work in silence for a few minutes before I say, “She’s going to love this—Nicole. When she and Tay get home. It’ll make her happy. You’re doing good, Dad.”

“Oh, thank God. I feel like I’ve been a mess most of the time.”

I’m not sure he’s a mess at anything. “What, um…what was it like? When you realized you were starting to have feelings for her?”

I have no idea why I’m asking…or maybe I do. Maybe it’s because of how much things are changing between me and Taylor and what I’m afraid that means.

“Scary, really. I never imagined loving anyone but your mother. But I noticed small things at first…like thinking about her a lot when she wasn’t around. And when she was, I just wanted to look at her all the time. I’d find myself watching her…in the least creepy way possible.”

“Stalker,” I joke.

“She just…she made me feel good. Everything was better when I was with her. And then one time—”

“If this is a sex story, stop right there.”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s not a sex story, you weirdo. But one day, we were at the house, and she was looking at a photo of your mom…and she asked me to tell her about Gil. I never really talked about her except with you, but I wanted to share her with Nic.

“We sat on the couch for hours, talking about her. I pulled out photo albums and told her stories about your mom and you,and she listened and asked questions. You could tell there was no jealousy or discomfort hearing me talk about someone I used to be in love with. It was evident she knew what I’d felt for your mom, and that it didn’t mean I didn’t care about her. I don’t know how I would feel hearing the person I’m in a relationship with talk about someone else who clearly had a place in their heart, but Nic understood. She wanted to know about your mom because she was a part of me, and I think that’s when I realized I was in love with her.”

I nod, looking down at the work we’re doing, unsure what to say. That was really cool of Nicole, but I’m not surprised. That’s how she is. Taylor is kind like that too. The situation is different, but how many times has he listened to me talk about my mom? How many times has he gotten me to share things with him I wouldn’t typically share with anyone else? And when I do, I always feel better, even though I assume the worst in the beginning. I can chalk that up to our friendship, but as I sit here, on the roof of his mom’s house, hanging her Christmas lights and thinking about the past few months with him, about all the laughter and games and cuddling, the homework sessions and how he pushes his thigh against mine to steady me when I’m bouncing around…about how fucking incredible it is now that he lets me inside him and I know I’m the only man who’s ever been there…maybe it’s time I acknowledge that it’s about more than just our friendship, amazing sex, and a silly crush.

“Why do you ask? Have you met someone?” Dad’s voice is soft, questioning.

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