"All the time." The answer comes immediately.
"What did you imagine?"
I think about it. All those nights lying awake in the dark, reciting his information, dreaming about the day I'd finally find him. What did I imagine?
"I imagined you'd be okay," I say slowly. "That was the main thing. I just needed you to be okay, to be alive and safe somewhere. And I imagined—I don't know. That we'd pick up where we left off. That it would feel like no time had passed at all. That we'd fall back into the rhythm we had before, like stepping into old, comfortable clothes."
"Does it?" He's looking at me now. I can feel his eyes on the side of my face. "Feel like no time has passed?"
"In some ways, yeah." I turn to look at him, meet those dark eyes that have haunted my dreams. "But in other ways, we're different people now. We've both changed. You're not the fourteen-year-old boy I remember, and I'm not twelve anymore. And I'm still figuring out who you are now. Who we are now."
"Who we are," Jay repeats, almost sadly.
"Or what we are to each other now. Because we're not—" I struggle to find the words. "We're not foster brothers anymore. Not really. That's not what this feels like."
"What do you mean?"
I don't know how to answer that. How do I explain this pull I feel toward him, this need to be close, this awareness of his body? How do I explain that holding him on the motorcycle felt like the most natural thing in the world? That I wanted to never let go?
Jay just looks at me, and there's something raw in his eyes that makes my breath catch in my throat. I don't understand it, but I sure as hell feel it.
"We should sit," Jay says abruptly. "There's a spot over here, if you want. Where I usually sit when I come up here."
He leads me to a flat rock near the edge of the ridge, big enough for both of us. We sit down side by side. The contact sends a little jolt through me, and I don't move away. I lean into it instead, press my shoulder more firmly against his.
Jay doesn't move away either.
"What are you most afraid of?" I ask, the question coming from somewhere deep inside me. "Right now, in your life? What keeps you up at night?"
Jay is quiet for a long moment. I watch his profile, the way he's staring out at the view, the way his jaw tightens and relaxes. The way his throat works when he swallows. He's thinking, weighing his words, deciding how honest to be.
"I'm scared," he says finally. "All the time. I act like I'm not. I put on this mask of being fine, but I'm terrified. Every day."
"Of what?"
"Of being alone my whole fucking life. Of being hurt. Of—" He stops, shakes his head, dark hair falling into his eyes. "Of a lot of things, I guess."
"Like what?" I press gently. "Tell me. I want to know."
He turns to look at me, and his eyes are serious and full of pain. "Losing you again. I just got you back. And I keep thinking, what happens when this weekend is over? What happens when you go home to your real life? Do we just go back to how things were? Do we pretend this didn't happen? Do you go back to the Reyes house and I go back to my motel room and we try to stay in touch with phone calls that get further and further apart until eventually we just stop talking at all?"
"No. I didn't spend years looking for you just to let you go again."
"But your life is back there. Your family, your job, everything you've built. The Reyes family who loves you. I can't ask you to—"
"You're not asking anything." I shift on the rock so I'm facing him fully, my knee pressing against his thigh. "I don't know what this is. I don't know what we are or what we're going to be. But I know I'm not walking away. I know I'm not losing you again. We'll figure out the logistics, all of it. We'll visit each other. I'll drive down here every weekend if I have to. Or you can come to me."
"You really mean that?" He sounds so hopeful it breaks my heart.
"Of course, I mean it. Every word."
I want to touch him. I want to reach out and put my hand on his face, feel the stubble on his jaw, trace the line of his cheekbone with my fingertips. I want to lean inand—
Jesus Christ!Here I am wanting to kiss him again.
Am I gay?
I don't know. I don't understand what's happening to me. This is Jay, my foster brother. He's not—I'm not—
