After rinsing the towel, I threw it in the washer, added my shorts and shirts on top, and started the load running. The machine engaged with its usual screech and clank that suggested a tune-up wouldn’t be a bad idea, but then began filling like it should. I watched for a minute to make sure the noise wasn’t a death rattle this time, then turned away.
“Mom?” Jos stood at the bottom of the stairs in sleep pants and a T-shirt, his feet bare, his eyes wide. I hadn’t heard him over the sounds of the washer.
“Hey, kiddo. It’s just me. I needed to wash some things for my roadie tomorrow. I’m sorry if I woke you.”
“I thought…” He glanced around, still seeming dazed. “Zeke never runs laundry at night. Mom used to—” He cut himself short with a fist pressed to his lips.
“I’m sorry.” I didn’t know what else to say.
“Where’s Zeke?”
“Working.” I figured Jos knew that, but if he woke thinking his mom was here, he might be all kinds of disoriented. “He’ll be back in a few hours.”
“This sucks!” Jos threw a sudden punch at a stack of boxes, knocking one down. “Fuck this!” He slammed his shoulder into the next batch, toppling them, then aimed a kick with his bare foot at a solid-looking trunk.
I grabbed his arm, yanking him away from broken-toe range.
“Let go!” He struggled against my hold. “Get off me.”
“You gonna try to break yourself again?”
“What do you care? You don’t even know me. You’re just fucking my brother.”
I let go of his arm like it was red hot, panic flashing through me. “What did you say?”
“You think I’m stupid?” He sneered. “I ditched school Tuesday and came home, and you were making out in the kitchen.”
“We…” I cut off whatever lie I might’ve tried, because if he saw us, he saw us.I was checking your brother’s tonsils with my tonguewouldn’t fool anyone.Fuck, fuck, fuck!“Did you tell anyone?”
His sneer deepened. “I’m not a snitch.”
“I… Thank you. Because I’m not out and… and… I don’t want to be. Not yet.” My heart was trying to escape from my chest and sweat trickled down my spine. My entire future was in the hands of a twelve-year-old who loathed me.
Jos tilted his head and his expression smoothed out. “Doesn’t anybody know? Well, Zeke, duh.”
“And my grandpa. That’s it. And now you.” Plus a collection of hookups, but they hadn’t known who I was, so that wasn’t the same thing.
“What about Sully? And Hannah?”
“No.”
“Why not? Sully’s cool.”
“I… It’s just not an option. Not yet. I want to make the Dragons.”
“But they had Farrell. He was gay.”
I was surprised Jos knew about him. Maybe something Zeke had said. “Yeah, they did. And they traded him as soon as he made waves.”
“Oh.”
“Right. Oh. I can’t be out, not yet.” Maybe not till I was retired. Or till I won the Cup. Something so big I’d be secure for life. Although there was no such thing— the best players in the game sometimes got traded.
“So what are you doing with my brother?”
I choked a laugh because even at twelve, it should be fucking obvious. Emphasis on fucking.
“Oh.” This time the word sounded choked, and Jos flushed. “I didn’t mean that. I meant… Zeke’s okay with just… sneaking around? He’s not really the sneaking type.”
