I lock gazes with Jed, and his is just as wide as mine feels.
“Why would we be weirded out?” Jed’s question is gentle.
Graham frowns and glances between the two of us. “Because it’s not okay. We’re supposed to be straight.”
Okay. Well,thatwas fucking telling. Pretty sure my little brother of two days just came out to me without even realizing it.
“You’re not supposed to be anyone but who you are,” Jed says firmly. “No one issupposedto be straight. That’s the same kind of bullshit that says a woman’s place is at home or men aren’t allowed to express anything but anger. It’s toxic. Made up by small-minded people who want to make themselves feel powerful. They know the only way they can stay on top is by shrinking others.”
Jed leans forward and taps the table. “No one’s idea of who they want you to be is important. The only version that matters is the one you truly are.”
Graham nods, but he’s glaring pretty fiercely at his beer.
“It’s prejudice, Graham. Plain and simple,” I say. “When people believe you’re not up to their standards, it’s called prejudice. Whether it’s your sexuality, the color ofyour skin, your gender, your income level.” Sometimes you’ll never know why you’re not enough for them.
Jed clears his throat, and my stare flicks to his. “Those people…” His warm brown eyes bore into me. “The people who believe that. They’re the ones who fall short. Not you.”
I swallow hard, look away, and take a swig of my beer.
“The best thing you can do,” Jed says to Graham. “Is surround yourself with people who don’t hold that kind of hate in their hearts. I’m relatively open about my bisexuality?—”
My gaze snaps to him, but all his attention is on Graham. Who’s now following Jed’s every word.
“—but some days are really hard. Being queer in professional sports automatically puts a target on your back, and many in our organization still hold old beliefs. One of the things that has helped me immensely this year is finding a support system. Shane,”—his eyes flick to me for a heartbeat before falling back on Graham—“The rest of the guys here. Shelby. Having people in your corner who love you without condition…that makes all the difference.”
The label on my beer blurs, and I force steady breaths past my tight lungs. He’s right. He’s so fucking right.
The doorbell rings, and I jolt. I throw back a quick swig and jump up. “I’ll get it!”
I turn and wince. That had come out way too chipper. Not me being slightly overwhelmed and wanting to run away for a second to breathe. So much changed for me when I picked up Easton at the airport all those years ago when we got drafted. It was the start of something I’d never had before. Community. People who wanted me outside my mom. My father might not want me, but I’ve found a family who does.
I swing open the door, a greeting on the tip of my tongue?—
And freeze.
Déjà vu.
Familiar hazel eyes.
Only this time they’re not my little brother’s.
Thunder crashes, but I don’t even flinch. His gaze sweeps over me, neat black hair swept back and threaded with gray, Rolex glinting.
Recognition flickers in his eyes—so quickly I almost miss it—then it vanishes behind a blank expression.
“I’m looking for my son.” His voice is matter-of-fact as his gaze slips past me. “Graham Ackerman. I was informed he’d be here.”
His stare lands back on mine, but I don’t respond. He says something, but it’s nothing but white noise.
A sharp ringing echoes through my brain.
I’m being dragged under.
My limbs won’t move.
I’m shackled and sinking.
Everything fades further and further away.
