“You can tell me.”
“I have nothing to tell you,” I spit out. “My life is my business.”
“Well, we all know that’s not true.” Logan chuckles like he’s not sitting there peeling away layers of my defenses like they’re as flimsy as the skin of an orange. “Our family is always up in each other’s business. It’s what we do. Because we love each other and we can’t help or defend or support each other if we keep secrets. Or don’t trust each other.”
“I don’t have secrets,” I reply and the coffee in my belly is turning to bile. I storm over to the sink and toss the remaining beverage into the sink and then rinse the mug for way longer the necessary. The sound of the rushing water blocks out anything Logan might want to say.
When I finally turn it off and turn to face him, he’s still sitting there with a serene but curious look on his rugged face. His whole demeanor is exactly like our dad, calm, patient, and jovial. I never realized we never really got to see the real Logan because he was in the throes of addiction for so long, and then recovery and crippling guilt.
“Deck… are you dating Abbott?”
I want to kick him out. I want to scream. Because I can’t answer that for a few reasons, like it’s not my place to out Abbott to my brother. Also, drunk Abbott was going to kick me out last night and I don’t know yet if sober Abbott feels that way too. So I don’t answer. I turn away from my brother and stare out the window above the kitchen sink. The rain has started, it’s slow and easy, unlike my life. I can’t remember the last time my life felt slow or easy. It feels like a car with a manual transmission being driven up a hill by someone who can’t drive a stick.
“Okay, let me ask you something else. Something just about you. Something I promise you, you can trust me with,” Logan says and pauses for a moment. “Deck, are you in love with Abbott?”
I close my eyes and, with my heart pounding in my chest, I nod. A short, sharp admission of a truth I’ve hidden so deep in my heart that I never thought I would find it again, let alone share it.
“I can do more than nod.” Abbott’s voice fills the room “I can tell you I’ve loved your brother my whole life.”
I open my eyes. It’s still raining, big fat drops smacking the window pane. The world did not end or even mildly implode at my confession. Logan is still sitting on the stool at the island, but his head is turned to look at Abbott. He’s standing at the foot of the back stairs in nothing but a pair of pajama bottoms. His dirty blond hair is askew. His eyes have bags under them and are a little blood shot.
“I had this grand idea we’d just be together, at the Cup Day. In front of everyone,” Abbott tells Logan. “We’d come out there. I mean,Iwould come out. Better late than never, right?”
I stare at Abbott. He gives me a small, tired, and guilty smile. The pain, stress, and intolerable awkwardness coursing through my veins evaporates as his lips curve upward. “So, I don’t need to pack?”
“No. I’m sorry,” Abbott says.
“Me too,” I reply, my voice rough.
“I feel like this is my cue to exit stage left,” Logan says, and he starts to move toward the back door.
“We’re going to tell your family,” Abbott explains. “And you. I hate that I’m making Declan hide, even for a second.”
“To be honest, I can’t believe we didn’t figure it out sooner,” Logan replies, and he turns to look at me. “I mean, now that I know it makes perfect sense. You two, together, makes perfect sense.”
His blue eyes lock onto mine. I smile. “I’m not even going to ask you if you can keep this to yourself, because I trust you.”
His smile grows. “Good bye, big brother.”
“Bye, little brother,” I reply as he heads out the back door.
I watch him go, jogging lightly to his car as the rain falls on him. My eyes finally leave the window when I hear the floorboards creek. I turn to see Abbott walking towards me. He doesn’t stop until we’re pressed against each other and his head is curled into my shoulder, his arms around my waist. His skin is warm and taut and smells like soap and I realize he must have had a shower.
My lips ghost over his shoulder before I rest my chin on it. “So you’ve always loved me, huh?”
“Even when I was hurting you.”
“I hurt you too. Break-ups are a two-way street,” I whisper back. “Didn’t I tell you that I hoped your career was all you ever had because you didn’t deserve anything more.”
“You did, but you were lashing out because you asked me to come with you to tell your parents and I wouldn’t,” Abbott’s voice lifts to my ears despite how soft and hoarse it is. “Because I wasn’t coming out to anyone but my parents. I didn’t want to lose my career before it started. I was a selfish, self-centered asshole.”
“You were a scared kid who didn’t want to lose his dream,” I correct. “And I was drowning in undiagnosed depression which made me overbearing and clingy.”
He shifts, bringing his head up so he can kiss me. And kiss me he does, long and slow and with all the emotions of the last twenty-four hours. It’s not like any kiss we’ve ever shared. We’re always rough and needy with each other, fighting for dominance. But this is less a struggle for control and more about showing each other vulnerability. And as much as it’s soothing my entire being, especially my soul, I have to break the kiss, because something about last night still needs to be talked about.
I pull back enough to look into his eyes again. “Last night you said you had hurt me so badly I tried to kill myself.”
“I was drunk. I shouldn’t have said that,” Abbott replies quickly.
