“It’s not what you think,” I say—then stop, because it absolutely is. “Okay, it is what you think, but can we maybe not have this conversation?”
Jason uncrosses his arms and drags a hand through his hair, clearly trying to wake himself up from whatever nightmare he’s found himself in. “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. Then he looks at Thomas. “Can I talk to you for a minute? Alone?”
“No, you cannot,” I cut in before Thomas can answer. “Whatever you need to say, you can say in front of me. I’m thirty-three, Jason—not sixteen. You don’t get to pull some weird shovel-talk-in-the-garage move on my boyfriend.”
“It’s fine,” Thomas says, resting a hand on my arm.
“It’s not,” I shoot back, already wound up.
“Boyfriend,” Jason echoes, like he’s testing the word for stability. “So this is serious?”
Thomas’s hand tightens gently on my arm. “It is. We’re dating,” he says—and somehow that simple answer turns my insides upside down.
Jason watches him for a beat, then says, “Alright.”
He drags out one of the kitchen chairs, spins it around, and straddles it with his arms on the backrest. It’s such a dramatic power move I have to actively stop myself from rolling my eyes. I love my brother, but sometimes he forgets he’s not auditioning for a crime procedural.
“Was your car actually broken down last night,” Jason asks, now laser-focused on Thomas like I’ve ceased to exist, “or was that just an excuse to get some alone time with my brother?”
“Jesus,” I mutter, exasperated. “How can you even think that?”
Jason shrugs. “I don’t know what to think. You two barely saw each other last year, then you get snowed in and now you’re dating? It’s weird.”
Thomas clears his throat. “It’s true—both our cars broke down last night,” he says. “And Carter and I didn’t just fall into something. We’ve had feelings for each other for a long time. We just finally admitted it yesterday.”
“How long is ‘a long time’?” Jason says, sounding suddenly more focused, like he’s trying to confirm a hunch.
Thomas doesn’t miss a beat. “Sixteen years for me.” And hearing him say it—to my brother, out loud—somehow makes it feel even more real.
Sixteen years. That’s basically half my life. I still can’t fully wrap my head around it.
“Twenty for me,” I say, trying not to meet Thomas’s eyes, even though I can feel him watching me.
Jason’s jaw actually drops. I feel a flicker of satisfaction—followed immediately by the urge to crawl under the fridge.
“Sixteen? Twenty?” he says, looking between us. “Are you being serious right now?”
Thomas nods.
Jason narrows his eyes. “But you always said you were straight. So what, now you’re suddenly bi?”
Heat rises in my face. “Jesus, Jason, that’s not—”
“I’ve always been bi,” Thomas says, cutting in calmly. “I just didn’t want to admit it. Not to myself, not to Carter, and definitely not to anyone else.”
A beat of silence stretches out. I watch Jason’s expression shift—his skepticism softening into something more thoughtful. Like he’s rewinding, replaying old moments, starting to see them in a different light. I’ve been doing the same thing since last night—since Thomas told me he loved me.
“And you’re sure about this?” Jason asks finally, his anger mostly gone, voice low, like he’s run out of things to say. “About Carter? This isn’t just some phase?”
I’m about to say he’s being a dick, but Thomas speaks first.
“I’m more sure about Carter than I’ve ever been about anything in my life,” he says, and the way he says it knocks the air out of my lungs.
Jason studies him, clearly checking for cracks. Then he looks at me, that big-brother protectiveness written all over his face.
“And you?” he says. “You sure about this?”
“Can you chill, please?” I sigh, my embarrassment curdling into frustration. “It just started. But yeah, I’m sure.”
