“Caleb!” If you had told me twenty years ago that I would be chasing after my grown-ass son—supposedly grown—through a parking lot, I would have laughed. I would have assumed this was the kind of behavior kids grow out of after, I don’t know, theygrow the fuck up.I also realize that, as his dad, I’m not above gently bullying my own son. I willmakehim accept my relationship with Luke.
And if bullying doesn’t work, I’ll resort to bribery.
Shaking my head to clear my wayward thoughts as I reach Caleb, I pant out his name again just as he’s tugging the door of his Jeep open. My palm comes down on the shiny surface, slamming it shut. He pivots to face me, his mouth flattened.
Despite Luke’s obvious panic, his reaction isn’t all that alarming to me. Caleb has a flair for the dramatics when he’s feeling blindsided, and I think he’s more shocked than mad. Honestly, I watched this kid wail and scream on the dirty floor of a toy store once when I told him he couldn’t have a candy bar before supper. Twenty-four-year-old Caleb has nothing on his six-year-old self.
“I can’t look at you right now,” he snaps, despite the fact that he’s looking at me.
“Too bad,” I grit out before snapping my fingers and pointing to my own vehicle. “Get in.”
He crosses his arms. “Why?”
I smile grimly. “Because we’re going to have lunch at that shitty all-day breakfast diner you love so much. I’m going to talk, and you’re going to listen.”
His lips curl into a sneer. “Can’t I just ignore you for a week and then we’ll pretend like this never happened?”
I sigh. “Get your ass in the car, Caleb.”
“Why him?” Caleb mutters, frowning as he drizzles syrup onto a waffle. “He’s my best friend. You realize how weird that is, right?”
Shifting on the red, plastic booth beneath me, I grimace as I eye the fried eggs, hash browns, and toast in front of me. They look coldand…lumpy. Beside me, on the brown, sticky tabletop, is a cup of black coffee. Which is, unfortunately, the only thing I like here. Using a fork to push my food around, my lips curl at the way the toast soaks up the grease. Meanwhile, Caleb chows down on his waffle like a man who got lost in the woods and hasn’t had a proper meal in three days.
“I’m sorry you had to find out like that.”
I’m actually more sorry Luke and I didn’t get to finish what we started. Ever since the day I showed him my scars, and he got on his pretty knees for me, I’ve been insatiable.
“That was gross,” Caleb grouches under his breath, pausing between bites and peering down at his waffle like it betrayed him.
“Yeah, well, your timing is shit,” I add, giving him a pointed look. “I was going to tell you when the time was right, but I’m going to need you to get on board with Luke and me being a thing real fast, son, because he isn’t going anywhere.”
“Fine,” Caleb grits out, returning to his waffle with a gusto that has my clenched fingers relaxing around my own fork. We eat in silence for a few minutes, me giving him a chance to process the new information while I pick at my food. Eventually, Caleb eats his last bite and pushes his plate away.
“I didn’t know Luke was interested in guys,” Caleb says in a hushed breath, something like hurt laced in his tone.
My heart gives a sympathetic lurch, and I reach across the table to squeeze his arm. “Be patient with him. He’s still figuring it out, okay? He needs some time to explore this part of himself on his own terms. Him not telling you has nothing to do with you.”
Caleb shrugs. “I know, but I wouldn’t have judged him for it.”
“I think he knows that too, but fear is a powerful thing.”
“I’m judging the fuck out of him for sleeping with my dad though,” he mumbles.
I ignore the sliver of amusement running through me, pushing down the urge to chuckle at his petulant tone. “Also, I need you to keep this between the three of us for now, since Luke isn’t out yet.”
His lips twist into a worried frown. “I get that, but I don’t like that he’s keeping you a secret either.”
I arch an eyebrow. “A few minutes ago, you were upset that we’re together, and now you’re upset because we’re not in the open?”
He throws his hands up and whisper-shouts, “Seeing my dad’s tongue down my best friend’s throat was a shock to the system, okay?”
“Will this be on one check or two?”
We both jump, Caleb groaning into his hands as the waitress stares at us with a wide-eyed expression.
“Seriously, fuck this day,” Caleb mutters.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m still snickering as I pull into the driveway next to Luke’s Honda and make my way inside. As soon as the door clicks shut behind me, his head whips up from where he’s hunched over a sketch pad at the kitchen table. His shoulders hike up, almost defensively, before mumbling an unintelligible greeting and refocusing on his art. The way his tongue pokes out in concentration is adorable, but my stomach twists at the tightness around his mouth.
