“Of course it was,” I murmur, silently begging Hollis to drop it. I probably should’ve been more prepared coming over here. If you’re going to fool around with your best friend’s dad, you should be better at hiding it. Must’ve missed that lesson in the forbidden handbook.
“But for real,” he goes on, and I hold my breath, waiting for him to call me out. “I’m glad things are goin’ okay.”
Phew.
Thank you, Hollis, for changing the subject.
I pause for a moment, thinking about it. “Yeah. I mean, it’s definitely a change, but I don’t know. I like havin’ him there. I like knowin’ that I relate to what he’s goin’ through, and that I can be there for him in a way that others who haven’t lost a parent to the force can’t. I never saw myself havin’ kids before, but it kinda feels like the universe put Lukas in my life for a reason.”
“The universe, huh?”
“Yeah. Or, I guess, the universe putmeinhislife. But he’s adjusting. We both are.”
“You’re good at that stuff,” he says casually. “Showin’ up for people.”
My chest swells. I don’t know what to say back to that, so I don’t say anything at all. Hollis and I have never really struggled with expressing ourselves with each other. We’re not the type of men who are afraid of feelings. But this—what he just said—makes my throat feel tight. I want to be a decent role model and father figure for Lukas, but half the time, I still feel like I’m flying by the seat of my pants.
“Oh, hey,” Hollis says, pulling me from my thoughts. “That motorcycle show is comin’ up. You still wanna go?”
“Fuck yeah, I do.” Finishing the rest of my beer, I toss the empty can into the box we’ve designated as the trash bin for the night before reaching for another.
Hollis and I bought bikes several years back. We used to ride together almost every week, but after he wrecked his last year, neither of us has been too eager to hop back on them.
As far as injuries go, Hollis got lucky. But it was still terrifying to see my best friend banged up like that. I still have my motorcycle, but I’d be lying if I said there weren’t times I thought about getting rid of it all together. It’s one of those risks you always know is a possibility, but knowing it and seeing it happen to someone you love is a whole different story.
“Cool. Should be fun.”
We fall into easy silence, music humming low behind us. This is what we’ve always done—trash talk, complain about work, debate whether pineapple belongs on pizza like it’s a moral issue. My friendship with Hollis has always come easily. We get each other. Both understand how consuming work is and never hold it against each other if one of us gets too busy to hang out.
We’ve seen each other through some shit over the years.
Since that night at the studio, I’ve thought about what Hollis would do if I told him. Because why not? We tell each other everything else. I mean, hell, he was secretly dating my boss, andthat turned out all right, so maybe wanting to kiss his dad—and more—wouldn’t be so bad.
But no, I can’t tell him.
Not only was it technically nothing and, knowing Gentry, it’ll probably never happen again, but it’s also not just my story to tell. As far as I know, Gentry has never outright told his kids that he’s into men. Shit, I wasn’t even sure until he looked at me like he wanted to ravage my mouth. No matter how much I hate keeping things from Hollis, I would never out somebody before they’re ready.
Hollis nudges the cooler with his boot. “My dad’s actin’ weird lately.”
Hisdad.
The word lands like a dropped wrench in my gut.
“Yeah?” Keeping my face neutral, I take a slow sip.
“Yeah. Keeps ‘runnin’ errands’ at night.” He air-quotes the two words dramatically. “Or at least that’s what he told me when I asked why his truck wasn’t parked in front of his house the other night when I drove past it on my way home.”
Yeah. He was running errands, alright.
“He’s bein’ all mysterious and secretive. Honestly, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was seein’ someone.”
The beer goes down the wrong pipe, and I cough. Hard.
“You good?” he asks, his brow furrowed.
“Fine,” I rasp, sucking in a lungful of air. “Just swallowed wrong.”
Hollis chuckles and tosses me a rag. “You’re a fuckin’ mess.”
