Page 89 of Courageous Hearts

“’Course,” Easton says, sharing a glance with Wyatt. He gestures me toward the seating arrangements, and I sit at the edge of a chair as Easton and Wyatt settle across from me, side by side on their big brown couch.

“So, uh…” Christ, how to start? “Y’know Will and I have been friends for years.” Just over six, ever since I came out. “And, uh, I apologized to him for the way I used to behave. For pickin’ on him. Targetin’ him ’cause of you.” I force my eyes to the men in front of me. They’re watching me calmly, patiently, and I swallow, feeling those tears prick again. “But I never apologized to either of y’all.”

“Bo, you don’t have to—” Wyatt starts.

“But I do,” I cut in. “I do.”

He nods, and blinking, I go on.

“I wasn’t kind. Not by any measure. And I said some really terrible things, just ’cause y’all were two men raisin’ a kid together. But…” I look off toward that wall of memories, throat tight once more. “But you’re such good fathers. Amazin’, really.” I shift my gaze back their way, meeting nothing but compassion. “I’m sorry that I hurt your son. But I’m also sorry for hurtin’ you.”

Wyatt is the first to speak. “Bo, I never blamed you for any of it. You were just a kid. Kids do stupid shit.”

I huff a laugh at that, and Wyatt grins slightly before sobering.

“You were a kid who grew up in a difficult home environment,” he says tactfully. “I never held it against you. Will was just as complicit in those fights.”

“But he didn’t say homophobic things,” I point out.

Easton leans forward, his face serious. “Did y’know back in high school your dad was a bully?”

I lick my lips. “It was a pretty easy assumption to make.”

Easton nods. “Shane’s still a bully,” he says simply, that low rumble of his quiet. “Like Wyatt said, back then, you were a kid. Now, you’re not, and you’re makin’ your own choices. Those choices are what speak to your character, Bo. You’re a good person.”

Fuck.

Wyatt squeezes his husband’s thigh, giving him a soft smile that just about does me in. “We didn’t blame you,” Wyatt repeats. “But if you needa apologize, I understand that, and I accept your apology.”

“I do, too,” Easton says.

“Thank you,” I get out, the words hoarse.

Wyatt nods, his brown eyes warm. “Now, how ’bout you tell us what you’ve been up to? Will says you’re workin’ at a cabaret bar?”

With a wobbly smile, my tension abates, and there, inside that yellow house in the center of Plum Valley, Texas, I feel another one of those brittle regrets inside of me crumble away and float into dust.

Chapter 27

Jameson

“Ready for this?” Bo asks, parking behind a row of cars at their brother’s house.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” I reply, following Bo out of the vehicle. It’s our second-to-last night here in Plum Valley, and Cooper and his boyfriends are throwing a big bonfire before we go.

“Well,” Bo hedges. “I never got a chance to warn you.”

“Warn me about what?” I ask in surprise.

They give me an apologetic wince as we round the corner of the house toward the backyard. “Coop, for one. Plus Will’s family will be here… It might be a lot.”

I don’t have a chance to form a response before a whoop rings out and someone rushes up, lifting me unceremoniously off my feet.

“Coop!” Bo calls, admonishing their brother.

My breath puffs out of me as I’m set back down, and the blonde man who must be Cooper gives me a grin.

“I hope you’re Jameson,” Cooper says, swooping up his cowboy hat from where it fell on the ground and dusting it off before plunking it back on his head. “Otherwise this is going to be really awkward.”

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