Page 82 of Awakening the Sheriff

“Yes, please.”

“How’s Byron?” I asked while he poured two cups of coffee.

“Good. Better.” Keaton’s face lost some of its tightness. “We had a long conversation this morning, which cleared up a lot for both of us.”

No matter the outcome of our conversation, that filled me with relief for Keaton. “I’m so glad he talked to you.”

He put the coffee in front of me, then sat. “The kids are home, so we’ll have to talk quietly.”

“Okay.”

“So you knew more about Byron than you told me. Byron shared some things this morning that surprised me. I knew he’d confided in you, but I think it went deeper than I had expected.”

“It did. We talked when he did his community service.”

“Can you tell me about it?”

I nodded. Thank god he was calm and willing to listen. “At his first community service, he shared a bit about having issues with you being bi. He said kids at school were speculating about your sexuality, and that worried him. He knew you were hooking up with men when you were in Seattle, and he was scared others would find out. He also mentioned that the fight with Gabe had something to do with that.”

I traced the woodgrain of the table with my finger. “I didn’t want to tell you because I wanted to gain Byron’s trust. I mean, I knew finding out about this would hurt you, and I dreaded that, but that wasn’t my main concern. I hoped he would start to trust me and confide in me so I could figure out the whole story.”

“Because you thought there was more.”

I met his eyes. “There was no way that was the entire picture. I checked with Violet, without referring to Byron, of course, and she said no one has ever said anything negative about kids being gay or Gabe having gay dads or similar. So Byron wasn’t telling me everything.”

Keaton took a moment to process this. “I can understand why you made that choice. At that time, building trust with Byron was important, especially if you picked up on it not being the complete story.”

A warm feeling spread through my chest. Maybe things wouldn’t fall apart after all. “When I took Byron to the LGBTQ+ youth center for his second round of community service, I did it because I hoped being there would help him become more accepting. He hung out with this kid called Raoul, and I think they connected. Then on the way back, we had a conversation in the car about Mandy, and I learned then she was feeding him lies.”

“What did he mention?” Keaton asked, furrowing his brow.

I sighed heavily. “Mandy had told Byron she hated it in Seattle and wanted to return to Atlanta too. I suspected she was manipulating him, making him think that if he acted out, you’d decide to move back as well.”

The tension in the air seemed to thicken, and I damn near held my breath, awaiting Keaton’s reaction. The silence that followed was punctuated only by the steady rhythm of raindrops against the window.

“He didn’t tell you anything else?” Keaton asked.

“No.” I swallowed hard. “I should’ve told you, Keaton. I shouldn’t have kept this from you.”

“I can understand why you made that choice. You didn’t have the whole picture yet, and your goal was to build trust with Byron.”

I stared at him. Did he really mean it? But his steady gaze never wavered. “All in all,” he said, “I feel you made the right decision, as hard as that is for me to acknowledge as a parent.”

“Really?” My voice cracked. A small flicker of hope ignited within me.

“There have been several times when students confided things to me their parents didn’t know. I had to balance respecting their trust with informing parents when necessary. It’s not always a clear line. Unless I was mandated by law to report, I often didn’t, prioritizing building trust over blabbing to the parents.”

“I’m not quite convinced I made the right call. I feel like I should’ve told you anyway. It wasn’t my place to keep secrets from you about your son.”

Maybe I was making things worse by admitting that, but I needed to be honest and transparent with him.

“Sometimes life doesn’t present us with perfect choices.” He reached across the table and gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. “We can only do our best with what we’re given.”

I exhaled, tension leaving my shoulders. Outside, the rain clattered against the windows, creating a melancholy backdrop to our conversation. But inside, my heart was a thousand times lighter and brighter. “So what’s the whole picture with Byron? Did you find out more?”

As he told me about the boy Byron had fallen for and how his mother had played him, my heart shattered for the boy who’d been fucked over by those he trusted most. First, the guy he was in love with and thought was his boyfriend, and then his mother. It was a devastating blow for a sixteen-year-old. I couldn’t imagine what he must be feeling. Betrayed and used, most likely.

“I’m so sorry for him,” I said. What else could I offer? Hollow words against such pain.

---