“Mac, we’ve tried to invite you back for holidays,” his dad said firmly. “We even made the trip up to Pittsburgh, but you refused to see us.”
“That’s what you wanted. You wanted me gone, so I left.” Four years had passed, but the pain was as fresh as the day Aunt Rita told him he was staying with her permanently. “How’s church?” Mac asked with a snarl.
“It’s fine,” his dad said.
That was an arrow straight through the chest. “You still attend? Even though that asshole pastor and his dickface son are still there?”
“Watch your language,” his mom said. “The pastor, he’s…he’s not the man you think.”
He’s a guy on the ultimate power trip who cares more about lying for his son than doing the right thing.
“He’s a liar. We weren’t ‘roughhousing.’ You know that, I know you do.” Mac searched their eyes for an answer.
“We know,” his dad said. “The pastor was trying to protect you.”
“What?”
“We know the truth.”
Mac crossed his arms. Nerves crackled in his chest. “What did he say?”
His dad looked him square in the eye, no blinking. “You were…coming on to his son, pretty aggressively from the sounds of it.”
“He said that?”
“Justin shouldn’t have gotten violent, but you scared him and made him very uncomfortable.”
Mac almost doubled over. What kind of Twilight Zone did he leave behind in West Virginia? “You believe that?”
His parents traded looks with each other, as if to say “Yeah, of course.”
“You really believe that?”
“That’s what the pastor told us. His son was defending himself.”
“His story’s bullshit. I told you what happened four years ago! I told you the truth. He attacked me.” Mac couldn’t stop himself. Being near his parents sent his anger to scorching hot fire in record time. “You really think I would do that? I hated Justin Weeks. You just…you believe what you want to believe. Anything to stay in the good graces of Pastor Weeks.”
“Son, life is about choices. If you choose to be so open with your…lifestyle, then you need to accept the consequences.”
Mac didn’t know how to answer that without screaming at the top of his lungs, which he would not do in public. “Well, at least you didn’t have to deal with my lifestyle. You were happy I ran away. You wanted to get rid of me.”
“Mac.” His mom clasped her hands in front of her stomach, trying to stay calm. “You said horrible things to us.”
“And you were horrible parents. Some things never change.” Mac stared at the swinging OR doors. He prayed that Aunt Rita made it through okay. He thought time healed all wounds, but as he left the hospital that day, he realized that the real wounds, the real things that cut us, never healed. They just got a Band-Aid that could easily be ripped off.
CHAPTER Sixteen
Gideon
Gideon woke up to the silence of an empty apartment. It had one of those unsettling calms that made him feel like a guy about to be killed in a horror film. He filed it under eerie. There was no Mac shuffling around, none of his plates clanging in the sink before being hastily shoved into the dishwasher minutes later.
He’d heard Mac leave early yesterday. He thought about wishing him a good trip. Instead, he stayed under the blanket and sent his Aunt Rita good vibes from his bed.
Things were still weird from last night. He didn’t understand why Mac was so insistent on getting access down there. Letting a guy penetrate you crossed the line from doing gay things to being gay in Gideon’s twisted universe. Every time he thought about being on bottom, about having some guy put his dick inside him, he pictured his mother’s face, pinching in disappointment.
It was fucked up. He knew that.
His mom had had such a tough past few years. First with his dad getting sick, then Noah, then more Noah. Gideon wanted to do right by her. More and more, he was the lone bright spot in her life, and he didn’t want to let her down. He didn’t want any more whispers.
