“I’ll try,” I said.
Derek smiled. “You don’t have to be perfect... just honest.”
Then he walked inside, leaving me standing in the doorway.
Honest.
The word hung in the air like mist over the water. I walked down to the edge of the dock and sat, legs dangling over the water. The river moved beneath me, steady and indifferent, as sunlight caught the surface and scattered into a thousand shifting pieces of light.
Derek’s honesty had been asking for help, admitting he couldn’t handle it alone.
For me, being honest would mean... coming out.
My chest tightened at the thought of telling my father. Watching everything I’d built crumble. Losing the Harrington name, the legacy, the future that had been mapped out since before I could walk. I thought of my cousin James. I couldn’t do that.
But Derek had said start small. One honest thing at a time.
One honest thing.
Marcus’ voice echoed in my head.Faggot.
And I’d just stood there. Frozen. Silent. Like I always did. Because speaking up would’ve meant drawing attention. Would’ve meant taking a side. Would’ve meant people asking questions I wasn’t ready to answer.
But staying silent—that meant something too, didn’t it?
It meant I was okay with it and that I agreed. That Marcus could say whatever he wanted because I cared more about keeping the peace than protecting someone who deserved better. I deserved better.
My chest filled with hot anger and embarrassment.
I thought about Liam. How he’d thrown that punch without hesitation. How he’d stood up for Remy instantly, automatically, like there was no other choice.
While I’d just watched. Perfect Alex Harrington, too afraid to make waves, too controlled to let anything slip, and too worried about what people would think to actually stand for anything.
But that wasn’t who I wanted to be anymore.
I couldn’t come out, but I could stop pretending that staying silent was the same as staying safe. I could stop letting Marcus—my supposed best friend—spew hatred while I nodded along because it was easier than confrontation.
I could start being real about what I actually believed in, even if I wasn’t ready to be real about who I was.
The water kept moving, pulling everything forward whether I was ready or not.
I stood up, brushed off my shorts, and turned back toward the boathouse.
Next time I saw Marcus, I wasn’t going to smile and pretend everything was fine. I wasn’t going to let it slide.
My hands were shaking slightly as I walked back toward the boathouse, but this time it wasn’t from fear.
It was from finally deciding to do something about it.
Chapter 11: Liam
“The answer is B. Pavlov’s dog. How do you not know this?” Emily was grinning at me, that teasing spark in her dark eyes that made my chest warm.
“I know it’s Pavlov’s dog,” I said. “I’m just saying—”
“You’re overthinking it.” She reached across the table and squeezed my hand. Her fingers were warm. Soft. “Trust me. It’s B.”
The Grindhouse was packed for trivia night—mostly students, some townies, the smell of espresso and beer mixing in a way that shouldn’t work but did. Our table was in the back corner, covered in empty pint glasses and the wreckage of nachos Noah had demolished in under five minutes.
