Page 97 of Home in Nevada

My mom rolls her eyes and stands up, leaning over to place her hand on my head. “We love you, hun... both of you,” she says warmly, ruffling my hair before sitting back down.

“...Can we come here for Thanksgiving this year?” I ask, still reeling from the whiplash of this conversation.

Her face lights up. “Oh! We can do a potluck! Jeff, I already spoke to the neighbors, and they can’t make it this year, so maybe we can invite Lucy over too. She can bring the pumpkin pie.”

“We can bring an appetizer,” Jamie chimes in, like he’s suddenly part of the planning committee. “Or, Jeff, should we bring that dip you make? The one with the chives? It’s really good.”

What the hell is happening right now?

I just came out to my parents—a moment I’ve been dreading and overthinking for months—and now we’re talking about Thanksgiving food like it’s no big deal.

By the time Jamie and I are back in the car, I’m sitting there, still trying to process everything.

“Well, that went well,” Jamie says, starting the engine and putting on his seatbelt.

“How did they know?” I mumble, staring out the window at the house I grew up in. My eyes drift to my old bedroom window, the one I used to sneak out of back in high school.

Jamie laughs. “Something I’ve learned? Most of the time, your sexuality isn’t as much of a secret as you think it is.”

“Did your parents know, when you came out?” I ask, my voice quieter now.

“Oh yeah,” Jamie says, smiling like it’s no big deal. “They knew. I came out when I was dating Brandon, so by the time I told them, it wasn’t exactly breaking news. Your mom actually found out about me back then too. My mom let it slip when we were all hanging out one day. So, yeah... she’s known about me for a long time.”

Jamie laughs, squeezing my hand as he glances at me. “Jeff, both your best friends are queer. I don’t know what kind of reaction you were expecting from your parents, you adorable idiot, but I hope you feel better now. Isn’t it a relief?”

I let out a breath, the weight of the day finally starting to lift.

“I’m really glad I did that with you here,” I tell him, the words coming out soft but steady. “Thank you.” I mean it—more than I can even put into words.

Jamie smiles, his fingers now lacing perfectly with mine, like they were always meant to fit. Like some cosmic joke decided that no one else's hand would ever feel quite right in mine but his. I’m pretty sure they were designed that way, the same way he fits into my arms, the same way he gets me perfectly, in ways no one else ever has and no one else ever will.

“You’re welcome,” he says simply, his voice warm and full of love. The weight of those two words carries all the reassurance and safety I’ll ever need.

We fall into a comfortable silence as he drives, the quiet hum of the red Mercedes and the faint glow of the dashboard lights creating a cocoon around us. I glance out the window at the familiar streets of my hometown, feeling something I haven’t felt in years: peace.

Jamie’s thumb brushes against the back of my hand, pulling my attention back to him. His focus is on the road, but there’s a small, knowing smile on his face, like he can sense exactly what I’m feeling.

For the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. With him.

Home.

Chapter 23

The one where Jeff panics over boxes.

Afewweeksblurby, and before I know it, I’m hauling a heavy box of clothes up to the bedroom while Jamie heads back out to the moving truck. My arms ache, but my brain is too busy spinning to care.

Moving in with Jamie—it still doesn’t feel real. His apartment has always been kind of bare, almost too neat, but now, with my stuff scattered everywhere, it’s starting to look more... lived-in. Cozy, even. At least, that’s what I’m telling myself. But as I glance at the clutter and my boxes piled in the corner, a familiar knot tightens in my stomach. Am I making this better, or just making a mess of his life? Is this a metaphor? Am I ruining him? Is he better off without me after all?

Great. Now the anxiety’s spiraling, clawing its way up from the pit of my stomach like a runaway train.

I drop the box by the bed and head back outside. The truck isn’t even half empty, and I already feel like I’ve brought too much.

“Jeff, you brought way too much stuff. I thought you were packing light?” Jamie grunts, struggling to pull out a box of my electronics. He’s breaking a sweat, his dark gray sweatpants clinging to him in a way that’s very distracting.

He looks good. Too good. I kind of wish I could just sit back and enjoy the view.

Instead, I smack his butt on my way to grab another box. Jamie glares at me, but I just raise my eyebrows, grinning.

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