Not because I want to. But because I see his brother watching over Gavin's shoulder, see Clint's smirk, and I can't. I can't be the reason this gets worse for him.
Confusion flashes across Gavin's face. "Doc? What?—"
"Baby brother." Troy's voice cuts through the air. "Fancy seeing you here."
Gavin goes rigid. The warmth drains from his expression, replaced by something careful and cold. He turns slowly, positioning himself between his family and me.
"Troy." His voice comes out flat. "Clint. What are you doing here?"
"Came to watch the exhibition. Support the family legacy." Troy's smile doesn't reach his eyes. "Dad couldn't make it, obviously. But he wanted us to check in. See how you're doing."
"I'm fine."
"Are you?" Troy's gaze slides to me then over to JP and Max who are flanking me. "Because from where I'm standing, it looks like you're keeping some fuckin interesting company."
Max's hand finds mine. Squeezes.
Gavin takes a breath. When he speaks, his voice is carefully controlled. "Troy, Clint, these are my friends. This is JP, Max, and Sebastian."
Friends.
The word hits me harder than it should. I know why he said it. I know he's trying to protect me. But still.
Friends.
"Friends," Troy repeats the word like it tastes bad. "Right. The fairy brigade."
"Don't call them that."
"Why not? That's what they are, isn't it?" Troy steps closer, and I see Gavin's hands curl into fists at his sides. "Dad told us about your little tantrum on the phone. Defending the queers in your frat. Talking about how dating men is no big deal."
"It isn't."
"Bullshit." Clint spits on the ground. "You've gone soft, man. California's rotted your brain."
"Nah, maybe what dad’s been saying is what’s rotten. You ever think about that?"
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means—" Gavin's jaw clenches. "It means maybe Dad and you and everyone back home are wrong. Maybe being gay isn't some disease or sin or whatever the hell you've convinced yourselves. Maybe it's just... wanting what everyone wants, someone making you happy."
Troy laughs. It's an ugly sound. "Listen to yourself. You sound like one of them."
"Would that be so bad?"
The question hangs in the air. Troy's expression shifts, confusion, then something darker.
"Are you saying what I think you're saying?"
"I'm saying—" Gavin stops. Swallows. "I'm saying that these are my friends, and you don't get to talk to them like that. Or about them. Or about any of the guys in my frat."
"Your frat. The one full of ass-fuckers."
"The one full of my brothers." Gavin's voice has dropped, gone dangerous. "Which is more than I can say for you."
Troy's face goes red. He takes a step forward, and for a horrible second, I think he's going to swing.
Then the doors open again.
