My cheeks are fucking scorching with embarrassment. “‘Kay.”
I guess that’s confirmation that Johnny is Daddy McSnack. Obviously, I’ve known, but I’m really happy to finally know for sure.
“I hear you’re a psychic,” he says, as I tuck myself away.
“Yeah. I thought that was implied when I invited you to the reading tonight.”
“You’re sassy. I like that.” There’s a strange look in his eyes, maybe like he likes what he sees when he looks at me. It’s flattering, but I’m pretty sure I’m taken.
I swallow. “Okay. Thank you for sharing. I’ll make sure to file that under my list of worst come-ons of all time.”
His mouth quirks into a smile. “I’m not really sure how the sex would work, considering I’m a bottom, and judging by your overall vibe, I would assume you are too. We’ve got mouths, so at least there’s that.” I have no words, because how does one even begin to respond to that? He passes by me and steps in front of the toilet, his back to me, but he’s looking over his shoulder, smiling cheerfully as his stream begins. I turn the tap and lather my hands with soap. “I really hope I can get to know you better. You’re really funny all the time.”
“I am?”
He nods. “Even if the sex stuff doesn’t work, I think I want to be friends. I’ve got a lot of queer friends back home, and I’m going to miss them terribly now that I’m moving in.” I have to take a deep breath.Moving in. Will Faith move in too? “So, I’m not going to have any friends anymore. You, Austin, and I can be besties.” He stares down at my crotch. “Maybe more.”
“We can be friends,” I spit out quickly, washing my hands, then turning off the faucet. This poor man is going to be absolutely horrified when he realizes who I am to his father. “I’ll see you downstairs.” With a racing heart and shaky legs, I rush downstairs, toward the kitchen, my eyes bulging when I round the corner.
I’m going to be sick. I’m going to fucking vomit right here, right now.
That motherfucker.
That goddamn son of a bitch.
Johnny’s back is pressed against the wall, and Faith is in front of him, her hands cupping his cheeks, her tongue probably plundering his mouth, because their stupid fucking lips are smashed together, and now she’s sliding her hand up, and she slowly rubs his bald head. I think that’s what hurts most, because I love that bald head. It’s my favorite thing about him.
He doesn’t see me, thank God, because if he saw me now, he’d probably laugh. A heartbroken twink staring at the man he’s starting to care for, kissing a woman like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
I don’t stay long, quickly whirling around on my heels and rushing upstairs as quietly as I can, not wanting him to hear and realize I caught him giving her the tongue.
As I hurry up the stairs, Bubba calls my name, but I don’t stop. I can’t. “I’ll be down in a minute,” I holler, trying to make my voice sound stronger than it actually is. “I have to finish getting ready.”
I’m losing them. Johnny and Bubba. I’ve only just got them, and now Faith seems hellbent on inviting both Johnny and Bubba into some polyamorous pack, complete with her boyfriend back in California, I’m sure.
Why would he kiss her? Faith is Johnny’s best friend’s ex. Not to mention the fact that he’s literally just came out as homo—not bi—sexual. Did he change his mind? Did he realize he was wrong about his supposed sexuality? Is it because of me?
All valid questions, none of which I have time to ponder, because I have a reading to perform, and I have a feeling it’s going to be a bloodbath. My heart is breaking. Time to break theirs back.
The lights are dim and the overall mood is low. My son is home. This ought to be a special day, but Ezzy ain’t talking to me or Johnny, and Johnny’s been walking around looking like a ghost for the last hour. I don’t know what the hell happened in the kitchen earlier, but Faith must have said something. She’s the only one who was in there with him. Ezra went to check on themat one point, but just as soon as he entered, he left, rushing upstairs, his face redder than one of those shitty MAGA hats.
I’ll give Ezzy credit, the atmosphere around the dinner table is like something out of a movie. I don’t know where the hell he got floor-to-ceiling purple tapestries with stitched-on silver moons and golden stars, but he’s got at least twelve of them hanging down the walls. On the table, blood-red tea candles have been placed with precision, and Ezra’s got everyone’s name written on purple note cards, indicating where we’re supposed to sit. Ezra is seated at the end of the table, and Johnny and I are sitting next to him, across from one another. At the other end of the table, Faith is sitting opposite Ezra’s spot at the end, and Dallas and Austin are next to her. Jaden is at my side, his head resting on my shoulder like he might fall asleep at any second, and Clint keeps staring across the table at him, smiling. I don't think Clint is queer, but I never thought of myself as queer until Johnny. Dallas didn't think he was either, and then he fell for his stepson. Dallas always seemed to be as straight as they come, but now he's coming inside his stepson on a regular basis, probably finger-fucking his hole into oblivion.
Now my head is spinning with mental images of Clint seducing my boy the way Aussie seduced his stepfather. Jacking off while they talk on the phone. Constant, completely unnecessary lap sitting. And those looks they give each other. My God, half the time, Aussie looks like he’s ready to bend Dallas over the dinner table and shove a tongue up his asshole. Would Clint do that to Jaden? I already see the way he looks at Faith when he thinks I’m not looking. Surely, he wouldn’t sink so low as fucking my only son in the ass. Surely, he would never.
I’ll rip his goddamn tongue out if he tries.
I bang the table with the side of my fist and point my finger at Clint. He’s lucky there ain’t a steak knife at this table or I’d be pointing it athis heart. “Don’t you ever bend my boy over this table. Do you fuckin’ hear me, bro? You keep your tongue away from his you-know-what.”
Clint looks up from his phone long enough to arch an eyebrow at me. “I’m straight.”
“A likely story,” Ezra calls out from behind the living room archway. He must be doing his makeup in the mirror by the thermostat again. I swear to God, the guy stares at it more than he stares at me, and my boy stares at his Daddy a lot.
Clint just sighs and shakes his head. “How the fuck did I end up in a living situation where I’m the voice of reason? I’m an atheist. I don’t even believe in this shit.”
“But you believe in our little family,” I remind him. “And you believe in having a good job that allows you to financially support yourself. Keep talking back to my boy, and that may not be the case for long.”
Clint just groans and turns his attention back to his phone. “Fine. But I want six days of PTO for this. There’s this girl down in Florida I’ve been sexting. I think we might make it Facebook official soon. She asked me to meet her somewhere called Lauderdale-by-the-sea, wherever the fuck that is.”
