Friendly banter started up with the rest of the guys, and though Adam smiled at them, he barely paid attention as he munched on his sandwich. It had to be Rico’s idea to send this food, but Adam had no clue what it meant. They were still keeping it light and easy, but Adam wondered if he was kidding himself. It would be all too easy for him to fall for a man like Rico. And that was as scary as running into a burning building.
Chapter Five
“Dad. How areyou?” Lying in bed, propped up against the headboard, Rico switched on the television to catch the news.
“Good. Busy as usual. I’m working on a gun rights bill for the State Senate.”
“Just your typical day, then,” Rico joked, but it wasn’t far from the truth. His parents’ careers had often overshadowed their personal lives, or, in reality, had taken over. Rico could never recall a time when both his parents managed to make it in time to a school play or baseball game he played, but he knew how hard they worked and that they loved him. And one of them did always manage to come and sit withPipoto cheer Rico on, even if it was in the last act or the eighth inning. To Rico, it showed they tried because they loved him.
“That’s true. But hard work never killed anyone. And the moment you stop, that’s when someone else can step in and ruin everything you worked so hard to achieve. Remember that.”
He’d hardly be able to forget. From childhood, Rico knew the laser-focused intensity his parents had toward their work and achieving success. And though he never questioned their love, he sometimes wished for a simpler life, rather than always being on display.
“The business is in the black, and we’re busier than ever; the jobs are booked now months in advance. We’ve really made a name for ourselves in the community.”
“I knew you would.” The praise in his father’s voice warmed Rico, and he wished he had the nerve to sit down with him for once and talk about what mattered. Come out to him and not feel the need to hide who he was because he was afraid of hurting his father’s career. At that thought, Rico’s stomach clenched; the disappointment he feared from his father outweighed his personal needs, and he justified remaining silent like he always did by rationalizing that his father was more concerned about Rico’s business than his personal life anyway.
“One day you should come up to visit, and I’ll show you around. Cook you a meal, even.”
His father chuckled. “I wouldn’t want you to work for me. When I come, I’ll take you out to the best restaurants. I’ll have Lydia, my assistant, set it up for the end of June, maybe?”
“Ahhh, that’s our busy time with weddings and graduations. Maybe earlier? It’s only April. How about the last weekend in May?”
“I was invited to Washington to speak at the Conservative Political Alliance that weekend. It’s quite an honor. Maybe you can join me in DC.”
Not a place he belonged, Rico thought. A gay son definitely didn’t fit in with that group’s agenda, and Rico hedged. “I’ll see what the calendar looks like. I wouldn’t want to leave Gideon in a lurch.”
“How’s he doing?” His father liked Gideon, after getting over his initial mistrust of him springing up out of nowhere. They both had that single-minded drive to succeed, and Rico knew that, more than anything, won his father’s respect.
“Great, he and Jonah are living togeth—”Oh shit.He’d never told his father Gideon was gay either, but with him and Jonah attached at the hip, it was impossible to think of one without the other anymore.
The silence over the phone thickened, and Rico’s heart hurt, wondering at his father’s reaction. Afraid to hear it.
“Gideon? With a man?”
“Uh, yes, Dad. He’s gay. And he’s still my best friend.”
“I wouldn’t have expected it, but I don’t know why you wouldn’t still be friends. He’s one of the hardest working men I’ve ever met.”
Curious, Rico had to ask. “What do you mean, you wouldn’t have expected it? People don’t look gay.”
The wail of a fire engine caught his ear, and he cocked his head, instinctively thinking of Adam. Damn, it had been days since he’d seen him at the park, looking so lost and full of pain; obviously something heavy had been going on inside his head.
Would his father see Adam first as a gay man, or as a firefighter saving lives? Wondering about his father’s response bothered Rico more than he cared to admit.
“Enrico, I’m not looking to get into a political discussion on a Sunday night. I like Gideon. His choice of a bed partner isn’t going to change my opinion about him. Let’s leave it at that, shall we?”
Later that night, as Rico paced his apartment, his father’s words echoed in his head. Would his father still love him if he’d said, “I’m gay”? Over the years he’d thought about it, but the time never seemed right, and now Rico was scared to know the answer. He could be a tough guy to his friends and hookups, but the thought of disappointing his father shocked him into silence. He hadn’t reacted as poorly as expected when Rico told him about Gideon, but Gideon was a stranger. It would be different for his own son to be gay.
And speaking of silence, Rico checked his phone, wondering why he hadn’t heard from Adam since a quick, impersonal text thanking him for the sandwiches he’d sent over to the firehouse. Maybe it was Adam’s way of letting him know he was done. No longer interested. But the desperate, sweet kisses in the park that afternoon didn’t match up.
“Fuck it.” His words rang out, filling the empty silence of his small apartment with his anger. Last time, he’d gone to Adam to apologize for his bad behavior. This time, however, he had nothing to be sorry for. During the day, when he was cooking or working numbers, thoughts of Adam, only a few blocks away from the store, would creep into his mind, leaving him longing to see or maybe speak with him. And now he sat at home on a weekend, thinking about the man who obviously didn’t give a damn, and Rico knew it was time to let it go.
Not stopping to think, he showered, dressed, and headed out to a bar in the neighborhood he’d often gone to when the demons of restless nights invaded his headspace. The chilly night air cleared his head somewhat, and when he slid onto a barstool, Rico had almost forgotten Adam.
“I’ll have a tequila,” he said to the bartender, who stood before him waiting. “Rocks, no salt, with a lime.”
Without answering, the guy, who was around his age, prepared his drink. When he placed it on the bar, Rico picked it up and tossed it back, welcoming the burn of the liquor down his throat and the immediate, accompanying warmth spreading through his body.
