Sebastian exhaled loudly, followed by a wet-sounding chuckle. “One identity crisis at a time, Tay.”
We fell silent then for a long beat, though I could hear that his breathing had become steadier, less erratic.
“I did something today,” he whispered eventually.
Through the phone, I heard the rustle of sheets and the creak of a mattress—Sebastian shifting in bed.
“What’s that?”
“I came out to the team.”
The phone nearly slipped out of my hand, but my grip tightened on it just in time. “Say that again.”
“At work. I came out.”
What the ...
“And how did that go?”
I was proud of myself for having the emotional intelligence to askthat, rather than blurting out a hundred other inappropriate questions.
Questions like, “What were you thinking?” And “Was it terrible?” Or “Was it amazing?” and “Again, what were you thinking?”
Mostly, what I really wanted to know was “Why now? Whythesepeople?”
Through the line, I heard him chuckle. “Maya was doing her usual Monday bit—you know the thing where she introduces everyone on the team, calling me the straight white guy. This time, I corrected her.”
“You corrected her? Just like that?”
“Just like that,” Sebastian confirmed with a small huff. “I mean, I planned it. Sort of. Turns out, it was surprisingly easy.”
“Seb,” I breathed out. “That’s … I don’t even know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. I just … I needed you to know that I’m really trying.”
I was moving through the kitchen and down the hall before I'd even registered that I was no longer on the floor, grabbing my keys off the hook by the door. I scooped my jacket up, wrestling my arms into it one at a time while I pinned the phone between my ear and shoulder. I locked the front door behind me and practically ran to my car. When I started the engine, I transferred the call to my speakers.
“Tell me everything,” I said, my voice steady despite how badly my hands were shaking.
Sebastian described Maya’s reaction to his announcement and how David later brought him pizza. He even told me that Wyatt had been blowing up his phone, but he’d ignored every call and text.
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel on instinct—Wyatt’s name would probably always trigger this territorial feeling in me that I wasn’t proud of. But Sebastian was volunteering this information unprompted. He wasn’t deflecting or minimizing the situation. He was offering up the truth, handed over freely.
That was new.
And it mattered more than I knew how to say.
“Are you still at the office?”
I turned onto the highway and pointed my car toward downtown.
“My apartment. Why?”
“Just wondering,” I said, pressing my foot on the gas. I was well over the speed limit, but the road was empty at this timeof night, so I probably wouldn’t get pulled over. If I did, I just hoped the officer was a hockey fan. “Keep talking. I missed your voice.”
“About what?”
“Anything. I don’t care.”
