“Yeah.” I rub my thumb over his knuckles. “You know I have you. I’m right here. Two things you can hear.”
Swallowing, “You,” he says. “And… the fridge.”
The fridge hums in the background, steady and mundane. “Perfect,” I say. “One thing you can smell.”
His nose wrinkles. “Your cologne. It’s a little strong today.”
“Okay, rude. I smell great.”
A tiny, hiccuping laugh escapes him.
“There he is,” I murmur. “That’s my baby.”
His breathing slows another notch. It’s not perfect, but less like he’s about to launch out of his body.
“Okay,” I say after a minute, when color has started coming back into his face. “Now. Tell me what your brain is screaming at you.”
Then he let out another humorless laugh. “That this is temporary,” he says. “That Dad’s just… being calm for now. That in a week, he’ll call back and tell me he changed his mind and that if I don’t break up with you, then… that’s it. No contact, no nothing.”
My jaw tightens. “Okay,” I say. “And then what’s the next part?”
He looks at me, eyes raw. “That if that happens, I’ll have to choose,” he whispers. “And that choosing you means I lose him. And choosing him means I lose you. And I can’t lose either of you, Miggy. I can’t. I don’t have enough people to spare.”
The words land like a punch. He’s not wrong. I know on the outside he’s a popular basketball star, but inside I’m all he’s got. The guys on the team aren’t real friendships because Caleb never lets anyone get close enough to care.
I’ve been his best friend since we were kids.
And in reality, while I have “friends,” he’s been my best friend too. Caleb is who I would turn to for anything. I take a breath, slow and deliberate, because the first thing that wants to come out of my mouth is, “If he makes you choose, fuck him, I’ll burn his office down.”
Which, while emotionally satisfying, is not the most helpful thought when Caleb is hanging by a thread.
“Jumping straight to arson,” rolling his eyes. “How very you.”
“Okay,” I say again, because that word is a bridge. “First thing? There is absolutely no decision on the table right now. None. He didn’t tell you to choose. He said he needs time and that he doesn’t want to lose you. You told me that.”
Caleb’s mouth twists. “Yeah, but?—”
“No,” I interrupt gently. “We’re not going to bleed out over hypothetical knives, baby. If he does come back later with some bullshit ultimatum, we’ll deal with it then. Together. Not alone. Not you in your dorm with a loaded brain and a phone. You hear me?”
His eyes shine. “Yeah.”
“Good,” I say. “Second thing: even if—if—he flips on us? Fuck him.”
His eyebrows shoot up despite himself.
“There it is,” he says weakly, rolling his eyes. “I was waiting for it.”
“I mean it,” I say, steady. “If he decides that you being honest about who you are and who you love is a deal-breaker, that’s on him, not you. That’s his failure as a father, not your failure as a son. You don’t need his approval to live your life out in the open, Caleb. You don’t need his approval to love me.”
“How do you just… say that like it’s simple?” He whispers. “He’s my dad. He’s the only biological parent I’ve got left.”
“I know,” I say softly. “And I’m not pretending it is simple. I watched you for ten years waiting for that man to say, “Good job.” I know how deep it goes, Caleb. I’m not saying it won’t hurt like hell if he handles this the wrong way.”
I tilt his chin so he can’t look away.
“I’m saying your worth does not belong to him,” I continue. “Your father doesn’t get to stamp ‘valid’ or ‘invalid’ on your forehead like some customs officer at the border of your own life. You are not a project he either passes or fails. You’re a person.My person.His kid. Those are not conditional titles.”
His face crumples, just a little.
