And somehow, that broke something deep inside Riley.
“I spent so long, trying to get them to notice. My dad’s big into appearances—country club, community boards, all that shit. He play-acted the loving father just as long as I fit the mold of his son.” He felt his lips twist. Felt it, but couldn’t stop it. “Turns out, getting caught with your tongue down another guy’s throat in high school? Not exactly an approved look for the family Christmas card.”
Jason sucked in a breath, loud enough for Riley to hear.
He should stop. But it was like whatever had cracked open in him had words spilling out, and the words had teeth. “My mom told me I was the problem, not him. Different generation, you know—I needed to understand. That it would be easier if I’d find a nice girl, give them grandkids. That I could fix the problem if I’d justtry.”
His fingers dug into the dirt. What thehellwas he doing?
“That was one thing I couldn’t do, but the rest? Tick the rest of those fucking boxes? That, I could do, I thought. And I did things…” He faltered, clawing into the dirt, desperate to ground himself. “I did so many things I’m not proud of, Jason. Things Ihadto do to get ahead, to be the son he wanted. Turns out that none of them count if I’m not the straight son they can produce like a rabbit out of a fucking hat when they want to impress someone.”
Jason’s jaw was tight, his shoulders hunched. He looked like he wanted to do something, but he didn’t know what. And now thatRiley hadfinallystopped his torrent of broken, self-pitying words, he waited for the inevitable. For Jason to walk away or to pity him.
There was silence, except for the rustling of the breeze through the leaves above them and the sound of the stream beside them. Then Jason moved closer, his knee brushing Riley’s, staying there, steady and secure. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around Riley’s wrist, anchoring him.
“You don’t have to be anything you’re not, not with me,” he said, quiet but sure.
That, more than anything, had Riley’s throat tightening. His heartbeat thudded in his ears and he swallowed, masking it with an attempt at a smile.
“Good,” he managed, his voice rough. “Cause right now, I’m all out of charm, and you’re stuck with me for the rest of the day.”
Jason looked down at their knees, still brushing. “You know,” he said slowly, “I used to think it was just me who had to change to be wanted.” He looked back up at Riley, gaze steady. “But maybe it’s not about changing. Maybe it’s about finding someone who wants you as you are. Funny how it’s easier to see that in someone else than in yourself.”
Riley blinked at him, throat too thick to speak. But the words landed, real and heavy and good.
Before the situation became awkward—moreawkward—Jason gave Riley’s wrist a squeeze and removed his hand. Not like he was letting go of Riley. More like he knew not to crowd him.
Riley let himself breathe, filling his lungs with fresh, clean air. The quiet of this place slowly settled over him.
Eventually, Jason stood up, brushing his hands down his jeans. “Come on,” he said casually, his voice light. “I think maybe we deserve lunch after all that hiking.”
Riley huffed a laugh, grateful for the out Jason was giving him. “Told you, you should have gotten that bag of trail mix.”
Jason shot him a sidelong glance. “Yeah, not gonna happen,” he said. “Let’s go find somerealfood.”
Then he paused for an instant, furrowing his brow worriedly. “Do I talk about food all the time?”
Riley blinked at him. The question seemed casual, but there was anxiety under it.
“No,” he said slowly. “Just when it’s appropriate. Like, right the hell now, when it’slunchtimeyet we’re stuck in the middle of nowhere.”
Jason didn’t say anything for a second, then nodded once, like that was all he needed to hear.
They fell into step, moving back down the trail, pine needles crunching under their feet. The breeze was picking up, and the path was dappled with moving shadows. A squirrel darted up a tree just ahead of them, and Riley concentrated on the rhythm of their footfalls and the sound of Jason’s breathing beside him.
By the time they reached the trailhead, things felt looser between them, easy once more—the way they’d been before Riley had voided his emotional baggage all over Jason.
As Jason opened the passenger door of Riley’s rental, Riley leaned on the roof for a second, squinting at him. “Hey,” he said. “Thanks.”
Jason tilted his head. “For what?”
Riley shrugged, glancing away. Not sure how to say it. For being there. For listening and not judging. Forcaring. “For not telling me how to fix things, I guess.”
Jason’s smile was a little shy, but steady, reflected in his eyes as he looked at Riley. “It’s not you who needs fixing.”
How could Jason have seen right to the heart of him and still say that? Riley slid into the driver’s seat, his heart thudding unevenly in a way that had nothing to do with their hike.
Chapter Seventeen
