Chase’s mouth curved slightly.
“That’s the performance.”
Tommy blinked.
“Performance?”
Chase nodded once, gaze fixed out into the yard.
“Smile. Shake hands. Be impressive. Be agreeable.”
Tommy studied him more closely.
Up close, the seams showed clearer.
“You don’t like it?” Tommy asked.
Chase hesitated, then exhaled slowly.
“I don’t dislike it,” he said. “I just never chose it.”
That landed heavier than Tommy expected.
“My dad picked every sport I played,” Chase continued quietly. “My mom picked how I dressed. Every decision was… pre-approved.”
Tommy leaned back against the railing.
“I always thought you had it easy,” he admitted.
Chase turned toward him fully.
“I always envied that you had freedom.”
Tommy laughed under his breath.
“Freedom?” he echoed.
“You wore what you wanted. Said what you wanted. You didn’t care if people approved.”
Tommy looked down at the deck boards.
“I cared,” he said quietly. “I just didn’t know how to fake it.”
The sliding door opened behind them.
Tommy tensed automatically.
An older woman stepped halfway out, drink in hand, scanning the patio until she spotted Chase.
“There you are,” she said warmly.
Then her gaze shifted between them.
Her smile brightened instantly.
“Oh! And you must be the boyfriend.”
The word dropped between them like glass.
