He leaned forward, his expression serious but not unkind. “Are you going through something right now? Something personal that’s affecting how you’re showing up to work, to these social situations?”
The question was so direct, so unexpectedly compassionate, that for a moment I couldn’t speak. I’d been prepared for anger, for a lecture about professionalism, maybe even a warning about my job performance. I hadn’t been prepared for genuine concern.
“I...” I started, then stopped. What could I possibly say? Yes, Derek, I’m going through something. I’m sleeping with my stepbrother and I think I might be in love with him, and it’s turning my entire understanding of who I am upside down.
“You don’t have to give me details,” Derek continued when I didn’t respond. “But I’ve known you for years, Kent. You’re a good worker, reliable, and you’ve never caused problems before. So, when you storm out of a bar after defending your stepbrother like your life depends on it, I notice. When you come into work looking like you haven’t slept in days, I notice that too.”
I rubbed my face with both hands, trying to buy myself time to think. Through my fingers, I could see Derek waiting patiently, his expression open and non-judgmental.
“I’m figuring some stuff out,” I finally admitted. “About myself. And it’s... complicated.”
“Does this have to do with your sexuality?”
The question hit me like a punch to the gut. My hands dropped from my face and I stared at him, unable to hide my shock. Derek held up a hand before I could panic.
“I’m not trying to put you on the spot,” he said quickly. “And I’m not asking you to come out to me or label yourself or anything like that. But I’ve been around the block, Kent. I recognize the signs of someone wrestling with something they’ve been taught to be ashamed of.”
My throat felt tight. “How did you?—”
“The way you reacted last night wasn’t just about defending your stepbrother. It was personal. Like Tyler’s words were hitting you directly.” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “And for what it’s worth, I don’t care who you’re attracted to. You do good work, you show up on time, and you treat people with respect. That’s what matters to me.”
The relief that flooded through me was so intense I felt dizzy. I’d been so terrified of this conversation, convinced that admitting anything would mean losing my job, my reputation, everything I’d worked for. But here was Derek, offering me understanding instead of judgment.
“I’m still figuring it out,” I said quietly. “I don’t have all the answers yet.”
“Nobody does,” Derek said with a slight smile. “But here’s what I need from you as your boss. Whatever you’re going through personally, I need you to keep it professional at work. That means you need to get some sleep and take better care of yourself. Can you do that?”
I nodded. “Yeah. I can do that.”
“Good. And I’ll talk to the guys and tell them they need to tone down the jokes a bit. They could stand to be a bit more professional, anyway.” He pulled a folder from the stack on his desk, effectively signaling that the serious part of theconversation was over. “Now, about the Jackson project. I need you to run point on the electrical inspection next week...”
We spent the next twenty minutes going over project details, and I was grateful for the return to normalcy. But as I left his office and headed back to my desk, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted. Derek knew. Maybe not the specifics, maybe not about James, but he knew enough. And he didn’t care.
The thought was both terrifying and liberating.
I pulled out my phone, seeing a text from James that had come through while I was in Derek’s office.
James: How’s work going? Everything okay?
I stared at the message, my thumb hovering over the keyboard. I thought about last night—both the disaster with Trevor and the incredible intimacy that had come after. The way James had refused to let me pull away, had demanded that I stay and face what was happening between us. The way he’d felt underneath me, around me, the sounds he’d made...
Me: Better than expected. Tell you about it tonight.
Three dots appeared immediately.
James: Can’t wait. Also, I’m making dinner. Real food, not takeout.
Me: You cook now?
James: Don’t sound so surprised. I know how to use Google.
Heat crept up my neck and I quickly locked my phone, glancing around to make sure nobody was reading over my shoulder. The last thing I needed was someone seeing that message.
But I was smiling as I turned back to my computer, and for the first time all day, the knot of anxiety in my chest had loosened slightly.
Maybe we could actually do this. Maybe it didn’t have to be the disaster I’d been convinced it would be. Derek’s acceptancehad shown me that not everyone would react with disgust or judgment. Some people—the right people—would understand.
The rest of the day passed in a blur of paperwork and phone calls. Tyler avoided me, which was fine by me. Marcus gave me a sympathetic nod when our paths crossed in the break room but didn’t bring up the previous night. By the time five o’clock rolled around, I was exhausted but in good spirits.
