“Hey!” I protested.
Heat rose to my cheeks, but I was laughing. A thought struck me then, sobering me just a little.
“So… the topic came up? With the kids?”
I hadn’t really let myself think about that part. The younger brothers, Colin and Vega, they were innocent in all this. I didn’t know how to explain seven years of secrets to a twelve and fourteen-year-old.
Shannon turned around, leaning against the counter as Cal plated the food. “Oh, yeah. They asked why he was here. We just told them he was Silas’s boyfriend. And that sometimes boys date boys.”
I held my breath. “And?”
“And they asked if Cal brought the title belt,” Shannon said with a shrug. “That was it. They don’t care, Si. To them, Cal is just the guy who makes Silas happy. And apparently makes better pancakes than their dad.”
“Hey!” Maverick protested.
Just then, Colin and Vega came sprinting into the kitchen, a blur of energy. They skidded to a halt, looking between me and Cal.
“What’s Deadlock’s actual name again?” Colin, the middle brother, asked, his eyes going wide as he spotted Cal’s tattoos.
“That’s Cal,” I said softly.
Vega, the youngest at twelve, squinted at me with a level of skepticism that only a child could muster. “Does this mean we have to watch you kiss him like you used to kiss Amanda? Because that was gross.”
Cal cut his eyes at me instantly. The moment the name Amanda registered, his face twisted into a look of genuine, visceral disgust. He made a loud, theatrical retching noise that wasn’t entirely fake. “Eugh.”
Shannon shoved Cal’s arm playfully, grinning. “Be nice. She tried.”
“I’m with the boyfriend,” Taylor chimed in, grabbing a fork. “Amanda was boring. She always smelled like hospital sanitizer and asked us if we did our homework. Zero vibes. Cal has vibes.”
“So,” Vega continued, looking at Cal with serious scrutiny. “Wait. Which one of you is the girl?”
The kitchen went silent for one microsecond before Maverick groaned, putting his head in his hands. “Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. Nobody is the girl, Vega. Go away. Go outside. Take a pancake and get out.”
Cal was wheezing with laughter, leaning against the counter for support as the boys grabbed food and sprinted back toward the living room.
“I like them,” Cal said, wiping a tear from his eye. “They’re honest.”
“They’re feral,” I corrected, but I couldn’t stop smiling.
The afternoon bled into evening in that perfect, hazy way that only happens in the Carolina spring. We were hanging out on the back porch when Maverick mentioned the weather was perfect for a bonfire.
Cal blinked. “I’ve never actually been to a real bonfire.”
Thesilence that followed was deafening. Taylor dropped his phone. Maverick looked like someone had just insulted his ancestors.
“Oh my god,” I said. “Okay. We are fixing that immediately.”
It was an all hands on deck situation. I texted Scott, who was there in twenty minutes flat. We spent the afternoon setting up. Scott took Cal out on one of the four wheelers to haul wood, and watching Cal hold on for dear life while Scott did donuts in the field was a core memory I filed away immediately.
By the time the sun began to dip, painting the sky in strokes of bruised purple and burnt orange, the fire was roaring.
It was perfect.
Scott had pulled a grill down near the pit, and Jayme showed up with bags full of s’mores stuff. Colin and Vega were running around with a soccer ball, their screams of laughter echoing into the trees. Josie and Cadence had spread blankets out on the grass and set up a massive speaker that was already blasting Josie’s country playlist.
I sat on a log next to Cal, our thighs pressing together, the heat of the fire warming our fronts while the cool night air nipped at our backs.
Suddenly, Josie and Cadence flopped down on the blanket right in front of us, staring up at Cal with zero shame.
