Page 81 of More Than a Spark

With his eyes growing wide, Milo said, “Sure, but?—”

“Look, I saw the guys in my company give the gay man I was friends with up in Flagstaff some shit behind his back. I dealt with it.” I puffed out my chest. “I can handle it.” I pressed my lips into a thin line, then said, “What’s this about?”

Shaking his head, Malcolm said, “You asked us if we cared if you were queer. The answer is yes, but it’s because we care aboutyou. We care if you’re choosing a harder life than you need to.

My chest heated. “But?—”

“I know.” Malcolm held his hand up. “It’s not a choice. Maybe I used the wrong word. Believe me, I’ve been around LGBTQ communities enough to understand things. I employ people like you and Milo, and I find they work just as hard, if not harder sometimes in order to prove themselves to their colleagues.”

I dropped my gaze to the table. Isn’t that what I’d seen Tate doing? Was that what I had in store for me? There were so many things I hadn’t even thought about yet.

“What does your new captain think about this? Have you told him yet?” Mom drank the rest of her wine, then narrowed her eyes at me.

“Yes, he found out when I um…” I held up my arm. “When I got wounded on the job and Milo showed up at the hospital.” I pursed my lips. This whole thing was weird. Dad and everyone else just accepted the new me, like normal people. It figured Mom and Malcolm would make a big deal out of it.

“And?” She lifted her brows.

I snuck a peek at Milo, skimming his fingers up and down his bourbon glass.

“And he said it was up to me if I wanted to come out to my new crew. They have an LGBTQ liaison I can work with and…” I exhaled a ragged breath, my chest tightening. I was tired of explaining myself. “It’ll be all right, Mom. Really.” I fixated on her, driving my point home.

“If you need anything, you know you can come to us. Right?” Malcolm rested his hands on the table, leaning forward. “I mean it.” He glanced at Mom. “Your mother really did want to start fresh with you. Especially after the distance between you two the last few years. It isn’t right that a mother and son never talk.” He turned his hardened gaze on her. “Even if their son is queer, right, Sheila?”

I stared at him, then turned my stare on Mom. “Why didn’t you ever pick up the phone and call me?” My heart wrenched. If she cared so much, why do this to me? This talk was insane.

Milo gave my hand a squeeze, his gaze finding mine.

“I don’t know, Ryder. Sometimes I felt like it was better for both of us. You have your father and Hazel?—”

“And you have Malcolm’s kids.” I scowled. Shit, I didn’t mean to say shitty things about him after what he’d just said, but fuck it. It seemed like he was actually on my side.

“Yes, we have my kids, but your mother needs you back in her life.” He tapped the table between us. “And now you’re living down here again and it’s time you both found your way to each other.”

“Maybe you and your mom could start seeing Mia’s therapist. I heard she really helped Mia reconnect in a healthy way with her mother.” Milo bit his lower lip.

“Mia is?” I asked, arching a brow at him. The name was familiar, and I was sure he’d told me some story about her a little ways back.

“Silas’ ex-girlfriend.” Milo faced Mom.

“Oh.” I drank my bourbon, thinking. Mia was the girl who stalked Silas and almost overdosed. The guys had all blamed her narcissistic mother. Shit, my mom wasn’tthatbad.

“Well, I don’t know who this Mia is, but I’m willing to try if you are, Ryder.” The corners of Mom’s lips pressed into a grim line.

My gaze snapped to hers. Was she serious right now? “Yeah?” What could it hurt? I knew it would make Dad happy. “Okay.”

“Get us the therapist’s name and number and we’ll set it up.” Malcolm held up his bourbon. “Can we drink to that?”

“Yes, let’s.” Milo held up his glass and tapped it on Malcolm’s then on mine.

We all sipped our bourbon.

“I seem to be out of wine.” Mom huffed and looked around the room.

I took her in, really looked at her. She was trying, hard as it was for her. I needed to try, too. Would we be able to bury all the pain between us? “I’ll get you some more wine, Mom.” I stood from the table and walked to the bar in the next room. It was a small peace offering.

As I grabbed the decanter filled with her Bordeaux, I shook my head. This might have been the weirdest coming out conversation a family had ever had. Leave it to my family. As I brought the decanter to the table, my gaze caught Maria bringing plates of Mexican food out of the kitchen and piling it up on the table. Her dark hair was in a high bun and she wore a black shirt and slacks. “Hi, Maria.” I waved at her. Maria stayed here when Mom had special guests and big dinner parties. I guessed tonight was one of those nights. She’d worked for Mom for forever.

“Hola, Ryder. It’s been a long time. I made you tamales.” Her brown eyes twinkled.

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