Hearing Stone being addressed by his last name sends an unexpected pang of longing through my chest. My mom let me keep my dad’s last name when she married James because James never legally adopted me, but everyone else in the family shares Stone’s last name, giving me one more thing that makes me feel like an outsider. It would be weird to change my last name now, but sometimes I think it would be nice to match the rest of my family. But even that comes with feelings of guilt because my dad was an only child, and so am I…plus I’m gay, so my dad’s name will end with me. Which feels like his memory will, too, and even if I don’t have many of those, it’s a tough pill to swallow.
“Leave him alone, Logan,” Stone fires back, making Logan laugh.
“Damn, youreallywoke up on the wrong side of the bed today, didn’t you?” Logan says to Stone before returning his attention to me. “Stone’s always an asshole, so don’t expect that to change, but it’s usually not quitethisbad. I keep telling him he needs to get laid, but the fucker?—”
“ENOUGH!” Stone shouts, cutting Logan off. “Hanlon, let’s go.”
“It was nice to meet you,” I tell Logan, already liking him. Anyone who can get under Stone’s skin like that is a winner in my book. Plus, he reminds me a lot of Chase, and I could definitely use a friend like that while I’m out here.
Speaking of, my phone goes off as soon as I climb into Stone’s Chevy Tahoe.
Chase
Have you seen him? How’s it going? Do you need backup?
I snortand text a quick reply. Before I put my phone away, another text comes in, causing Stone’s phone to chirp as well.
Family Chat
Mom
Did Hanlon make it?
Hanlon
Yeah, Mom. I’m just getting settled in.
Mom
Oh, good. Stone, thank you in advance for taking care of your brother. Dad and I are so happy you boys are finally getting time together.
Hanlon
Mom, I can take care of myself. Stone’s driving. He says hi.
Mom
Of course you can, sweetheart, but you know I worry. About you both. Call me later and tell me everything, okay? Love and hugs.
Hanlon
Love youtoo.
“Don’t read that,”I tell Stone as he focuses on navigating the snowy road into town.
“I’m sure I can already guess what it says,” he replies. I don’t like his tone. He’s always been nice to my mom, but right now it feels like he’s just as annoyed with her as he is with me.
I drop it, though, remembering my resolve to make this arrangement work.
Stone goes back to driving quietly, and I turn up the radio. Unsurprisingly, a Bad Omens song is playing from his Spotify account.
“You still play guitar?” I ask, aiming for neutral ground in an attempt to get him to open up.
“Sometimes.” I think that’s all he’s going to give me, but then he follows it up with, “How about you? Still play the piano?”
My mom got me started playing piano when I was five. The pediatrician told her it would be good for my motor skills, hand-eye coordination, and sensory processing abilities, which were already lagging a little behind by that point. As soon as I met Stone, I wanted to switch to guitar, but the extreme, tightly curled finger positions made my fingers cramp and were too painful. So, instead, I learned every song on the piano that he learned on the guitar.
“Not as much as I’d like. Studying, trying to date, and working out sort of took over my life,” I say with a chuckle.
