Joel blinked. “Grooming as in sexual exploitation?”
I nodded.
“Whatassholes,” he said, aggressively refilling the stir sticks.
“No shit. The district put him on paid leave pending an investigation. But when the district’s lawyer reached out for further information, the story didn’t hold up.”
“Okay, that’s good, then. Right? Doesn’t that mean he’s in the clear?”
“Not quite, but hopefully soon.”
Joel cursed under his breath. “His own parents, making up a story like that. Don’t they have any concern about the impact false claims have on real victims? No, they just go and fuck it up for the ninety-nine-point-five percent who are telling the truth.”
“Honestly, I think that upset him as much as anything else. The idea that defending himself might cast doubt on other people’s reports… that’s gotta feel pretty shitty.”
“Poor guy. What’s he doing now, if he’s off work?”
I crossed my arms on the bar and buried my face in them. “He’s staying at my house in case his family decides to show up at his place.”
“Not exactly the simplest way to start a relationship.” Joel stopped talking, and I looked up, meeting his eyes. “Thisisthe start of a relationship, right? Not just some sort of fuck-buddy situationship?”
“No, it’s definitely a relationship,” I assured him, a smile making its way onto my face despite everything. “That is, if I have anything to say about it.”
“Then good luck. I’m really happy for you.”
“Thanks, man.”
Joel tapped the bar. “That brings us back to theHeartstoppertragedy. I know he’s new, but c’mon.”
Laughing, I turned to my phone again. “I’ll take care of it.”
* * *
Walker had been mostly quiet all day, so I wasn’t sure what I’d find when I went home for dinner. I was not expecting him to be sitting on the couch, wrapped in a blanket, his lashes spiky with tears.
“Walk?” I asked, rushing to him. “What happened?”
He blinked up at me. “I just finishedHeartstopper. I wish I’d had this when I was a kid. I’d a figured things out a whole helluva lot sooner.”
“Oh, baby.” I squeezed him tight, stifling a laugh as I kissed the side of his head. “That’s okay. You know now.”
“Yes,” he cried, sobbing into my shoulder.
I bit my lip, loving that the representation on screen meant so much to him. “There’s a couple of streaming series you should see, then. None of them are as sweet as this one, but they all gave me the same kind of queer feel-goods.”
He sniffled loudly. “Okay, but I don’t think I can handle any more today.”
I chuckled, wiping his face. “What about making out? Can you handle that?”
He sniffed again, wiping his tears. “Yeah, I think so. Let me splash some water on my face first.”
He let the blanket slide off him and shuffled to the bathroom, then came back a minute later, his face bright and shiny, if a little sheepish.
“Hey, what’s this look?”
“I’m not embarrassed, but I’m trying to get used to processing emotions differently.”
“Differently?”
