“That's helpful.”
“Troy.” His voice carried a warning. “I'm serious. Last night happened. This morning happened. And I still think it's wrong even though it doesn't feel wrong when we're doing it.”
I set my fork down too. “What part do you think is wrong? The fucking? The wanting? Or the fact that you're my stepfather?”
“All of it. None of it. I don't know.” He looked at me across the table and I could see the conflict in his eyes, the way he was trying to work through years of assumptions that didn't fitanymore. “You're my stepson. I was supposed to protect you. Not—not do this.”
“And yet here we are.” I leaned back in my chair, trying to sound casual even though my chest felt tight. “So what are you going to do about it? Pretend it didn't happen? Go back to avoiding me?”
He flinched at that, and part of me was glad. He should feel that one.
“I don't understand why my mind keeps going here. Why I can't stop thinking about you this way. Why I wanted it. Why I still want it even though everything about this feels like it should be wrong.” His voice stayed low and rough, like the admission cost him to make.
“Maybe because you're attracted to men and you just never realized it before.” The suggestion came out more gentle than I'd intended. “Or attracted to me specifically. Either way, beating yourself up over it isn't going to change anything.”
Declan went very still. “What?”
“You heard me.” I took a drink of coffee. “Maybe you're bisexual. Or just into men. Maybe you've been into men your whole life and never let yourself notice because you were busy being married and raising me and building a life that didn't leave room for that kind of self-examination.”
“I've never been attracted to men before.”
“Or you never let yourself notice.” I shrugged, trying to keep my voice steady even though this conversation felt like walking through a minefield. “How many times have you looked at a guy and thought he was attractive but told yourself it didn't mean anything? How many times have you noticed someone and then immediately shut it down because that's not who you thought you were supposed to be?”
He turned that over in his head. I could see the gears working, processing and reevaluating years of assumptions he'd never questioned.
“I was married to your mother. Like that proved anything.”
“And? Bisexual people exist. Plenty of men like women and men. It's not that fucking complicated.”
“It feels complicated.”
“That's because you're making it complicated.” I stood up, carried my plate to the sink because I needed to move, needed to do anything other than sit there and watch him try to logic his way out of wanting me. “Look, I'm not saying I have all the answers. But maybe instead of torturing yourself over why you want me, you just accept that you do and figure out what that means.”
Declan didn't respond. He just sat there staring at his coffee like it held answers he couldn't find anywhere else.
The silence stretched between us and got heavier.
“Say something.”
“I don't know what to say.” He looked up at me and the vulnerability in his expression made my chest ache. “This changes everything, Troy. You get that, right? We can't go back to how things were before.”
“I don't want to go back to how things were before.”
“Neither do I. But I don't know how to move forward either.” He pushed his plate away, food half-eaten. “What if this is just—what if it's just proximity? What if we're both fucked up from trauma and loneliness and we latched onto each other because we were available?”
“Is that what you think this is?”
“I don't know what to think.” His hands were shaking slightly where they rested on the table. “All I know is that I wanted you. I still want you. And that scares the shit out of me because I don't know if that makes me?—”
“Makes you what? Gay? Bisexual? A bad person?” I crossed back to the table, leaned against it. “Declan, wanting me doesn't make you broken. It makes you human.”
“It makes me your stepfather who crossed a line he should never have crossed.”
“I crossed it too. I wanted this just as much as you did. Maybe more.” I grabbed his hand before I could stop myself. “So either we're both fucked up, or maybe this is just what it is. Two people who care about each other finally admitting they want more than they're supposed to have.”
His fingers tightened around mine. “This is still wrong, Troy.”
“Maybe.” I pulled him to his feet, got close enough that I could feel the heat coming off him. “But it also feels right. And I don't know about you, but I'm tired of pretending it doesn't.”
