Page 66 of Honeysuckle
“There’s that pity again, Tuck,” I murmured, barely getting the words out.
“Not pity, tough guy.” Dean shook his head.
“What is it then?” I asked.
“Admiration,” Dean whispered, his own voice tight with emotion.
It was hard to wrap my head around the idea that maybe instead of Dean being ashamed of me he was praising me for my strength. I wanted to fall back on my anger and snap at him, tell him he’s wrong or stupid but before I could even open my mouth to insult him and retreat back to my safe space he spoke again.
“You know that you’re safe here, right? You might not be happy, but…you’re safe.”
I’d just spent the last fifteen minutes stumbling through my trauma, pouring it out like it meant nothing. And Dean had successfully collected all the blood I spilled into his palms, looked me dead in the eye, and told me the one thing I’ve never heard in my entire broken and battered life.
You’re safe.
TUCKER
Dinner Sunday.
Awesome.
Just great. My heart raced as I stared at the text in my lap. I was curled up half awake and half dressed in my bed with Josh sleeping in the bed across from me. His hair stuck to his forehead, matted against the crusted cut on his cheek.
It looked painful—but he looked peaceful.
He had exposed so much about himself sitting on the floor in the closet the night before that I didn’t even see that mean, cocky pitcher anymore. My opinion of him hadn’t necessarily changed—but it had shifted, there was an understanding now that wasn’t there before. A reason why he was the way he was.
I just wish I had his courage.
Maybe if I had some of that unbridled rage I wouldn’t be such a coward about facing my family. Mom’s silence was deafening, it had practically woken me up at three am just thinking about it. Stewing preemptively in her disappointment. I flipped my phone over and rolled back in my bed to stare at the ceiling.
I knew that eventually everything had to come out, that the press would figure it out. Cael and I hadn’t necessarily been careful about things. We were quiet when we needed to be, but we had never cared at parties or on the road. It was just a matter of time before the world outside the Nest put the puzzle pieces together.
Dean Tucker,gay.
I could see the words written in dark ink across the newspaper's front page.
There would be more tact to it.
Some may even spin it to make it a humanitarian piece.
But most would use my sexual orientation as rage bait; it would give cause to blame whatever faults that arise during the season on me. It was unfair, and bullshit but true. It was human nature to be afraid of something they didn’t understand. I just wish more people were willing to learn before they cast judgment.
“Why are you awake?” Josh’s voice was husky and full of sleep.
I don’t answer him, keeping my eyes closed. We had enough sharing secrets for the last twenty-four hours, and whatever advice he might have, I’d heard it before.
Be honest.
Be brave.
Be you.
It was all nonsense from people who didn’t understand the consequences of being those things with people who only cared about how it made them look.
“I know you’re awake, you aren’t snoring,” he said.
“I don’t snore,” I muttered, opening my eyes to look over at him, still tucked tightly against his pillow with his jaw nestled into the loose collar of his old hoodie. Even in his sleep, he protected his skin, and it made me unreasonably sad.
