We divert the conversation to responsible sexual practices. By the end of dinner, Lucas is red-faced with embarrassment, but he’s promised us he won’t ever lie to us about anything regarding his health and safety. And that he’ll ask for condoms when he needs them. Plus, that he will never bareback until he’s sure he’s met a forever partner, and they’ve both had all the relevant testing needed first.
It’s all we can do. Talk, and leave the conversational door open to him. I’d rather have a ton of uncomfortable discussions with him than be sitting in a doctor’s office comforting him because he’s tested pos. No, HIV isn’t the automatic death sentence it once was, but that’s not the only lovely little permanent parting gift a careless partner can leave him with.
That he needs to have enough self-respect and self-love to handle being responsible forhishealth first, and not let emotions get in the way.
Telling him something useless, like he should wait until they get married, is just…well, frickingstupid. I remember what Arlo and I were like at that age. I know we’ll be having uncomfortable conversations with Katie, too, but with her there’s the extra pressure of making sure I don’t become a grandfather before I turn fifty.
At least that’s one worry we won’t have with Lucas and Caine.
Another point in Lucas’ favor is he’s not forced to stay in the closet like I was. He now knows he’s got three adults who still love him and will support and protect him as best we can.
Not going to lie—I feel terrified for him. Some things are better now than when I was his age, and some things are scarier.
Take Pulse, for example.
I also have it easy in that I know I’m with the people I’ll spend the rest of my life with. I’m out of the damn dating pool, and have been for four years now. Longer, if you count my time with Jerilyn. Once Katie’s eighteen and Jerilyn no longer has leverage over me, fuck what anyone else says. Then we’ll be able to go public with the truth about us. I won’t give a shit any longer.
I won’t even care about my family’s opinion. Who, I’m sure, will disown me.
My two older brothers would have beaten the crap out of me if I’d come out as gay or bi as a kid. I’m pretty sure Dad would’ve helped them. Thankfully, neither of my brothers live in Florida any longer, and my parents live all the way up just outside of Tallahassee. Far from here, in Venice, just south of Sarasota.
I make all sorts of creative excuses why I can’t go home for the holidays. Why I don’t bring Katie to visit them.
Because they’re racist, homophobic assholes is the real reason why. I don’t want to expose her to them.
Hell, I don’t want to exposemyselfto them. They’re toxic.
As an adult, I can look back and see that the thrilling terror which used to always sweep through me and Arlo when we screwed around as kids fed into the high of the endorphins from our sex. At least being roommates in college gave us a reasonable excuse for why we spent so much time together. While I’m technically bi since I’m in a relationship with Zoey, I’m actually more gay than bi. If I wasn’t with Arlo, I wouldn’t be with Zoey.
Except I love her. I think I fell in love with her almost immediately because Arlo loved her so hard, and it wasn’t difficult to see why, either. Zoey is easy to fall in love with. She’s sweet, intelligent, funny, and has a huge, loving heart.
It’s our external situations that throw monkey wrenches into us being able to freely express that love outside the security of home.
That’s one of the things I tried to fight when I stupidly let Jerilyn reel me back in like a trophy fish. I thought if I tried harder, maybe I could feel about her the way I felt about Arlo and Zoey, and it just wasn’t working.
Then I stupidly got her pregnant.
She says she was on the pill, but now… I’m not sure she didn’t do it deliberately. Don’t get me wrong, I love my daughter and would die for her.
Except it also means that, for the rest of my life, I’m tied to a woman I had no business sticking my dick into for a number of reasons, including the fact that I thought maybe I could do something good with my life and help her overcome a really fucking shitty childhood that made mine look positively picturesque in comparison.
Once we finish eating, Zoey gets her tablet for Lucas so he can change his password for his online accounts before Bill Motherfucking Webb somehow manages to get into his phone and deactivate them. Meanwhile, the three of us clear the table and clean up the kitchen.
“What do you think?” Zoey quietly asks us in the kitchen and out of earshot of Lucas.
“I think I might be willing to risk arrest to go punch the motherfucker right now,” I mutter.
Arlo and I exchange a fist bump.
“No,” Zoey says. “Absolutely not. He’snotworth it.”
“Oh, it’d be worth it,” Arlo says. “Totally.”
We fist bump again.
“Thank god the testosterone’s as thick as it is right now,” Zoey softly drawls. “Maybe I might actually get laid tonight.”
I hook an arm around her and pull her in so I can nibble on the nape of her neck. “I think we can arrange that, babe.”
Arlo snickers. “Absolutely, we can arrange that.”
