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“Not love, just lust. The relationship ran its course, and I got back on the road. I thought I’d drift a bit, but I landed a great job for a lumber company in Oregon and lived there for a few years. I liked it. I bought a condo, dated an investment analyst who helped me build a portfolio. I felt stable, like I finally had my shit together. I hooked up with women…and men. Probably more men, though. These weren’t quick fucks in the dark either. They were nice, cool guys who were fun to talk to, fun to be with, but they weren’t my boyfriends. It was the connection I liked. The freedom of choosing to be with whoever felt right. Of course, it was easy to be out in Oregon. Not so much in Clearwater.”

“But you came out anyway.”

“Sort of. I’m more like you,” he hedged. “Only my family and a few close friends know. I never came out at work. You know how it is. You’re from a lumber town. Toxic masculinity comes with the territory.”

“I do know. Wood Hollow wasn’t an easy place for a queer kid to grow up.” I shook my head. “It’s not like that anymore. Things have changed for the better.”

“Well, they haven’t changed in Clearwater. It’s a very conservative town. I doubt they’d have fired me outright, but I might have gotten pushed into a lesser-paying job. The economy did that anyway, which is how I ended up in Wood Hollow.” He nudged his plate aside and reached for his beer.

I frowned. “If you liked Oregon, why’d you go home?”

“My sister got pregnant.”

“Oh. Emmett.”

“Yeah. What about you? When did you figure out you batted for both teams?”

I made a funny face. “High school. I had a crush on my best friend.”

Waylon froze, his mouth opened in a wide O. “Your best—isn’t that⁠—”

“Cooper,” I supplied, enjoying his surprise.

He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward. “So…were you two a couple or⁠—”

“No, no, no.” I held up a hand. “We were more like…”

“Secret boyfriends.”

“Not even. We experimented.” I rubbed my nape awkwardly. “But we were teenagers, and it was high-stakes subterfuge.”

“Subterfuge,” he repeated, letting out a low whistle. “I love that word. Deceit, evasion, trickery.”

“Yes to all. I can’t remember how it started. Coop and his mom and sister lived with his aunt and uncle, who’re my parents’ neighbors. We were tight from the day we met. We were goofy kids, riding our bikes all over town, climbing trees, playing catch, fishing at the lake. I don’t know when it changed. A wrestling match in Coop’s aunt and uncle’s basement, I think. One of us popped a boner and Cooper got up in a hurry. I should have let it go, but…I showed him mine instead.”

“I see.”

“You might say, I de-escalated a panic attack,” I said. “No reason to freak out. We were just guys being guys. So the next time it happened, we let it go a little longer. Before we knew it, we were humping and grinding regularly.”

“And coming?”

“Yeah. Fuck, we made a mess.” I laughed. “And we had weird rules. We never kissed. That was—ew. And even though I saw his dick plenty in the locker room, we kept our clothes on if we were alone. The most scandalous thing we did was stick our hands in each other’s boxer briefs for hand jobs. But trust me…that was risky fucking business.”

“I bet.”

“I’m serious. We were star football players in a town that took the sport very seriously. Coop was the quarterback, and I was his favorite target on the field. Oh, yeah…and my dad was a cop. If anyone had ever found out…Christ, I don’t know what I would have done.” I took a swig of beer and shivered. “But it didn’t stop us.”

“So, all through high school you and Coop were⁠—”

“No. A year…more or less. It ended the day Coop’s Aunt Rhona walked in on us. I dove even deeper into the closet and stayed there for another twenty years.”

The O was back. “What did she do?”

I grinned. “Have you met Rhona and Harry?”

“Uh…no.”

“I think they’re in Florida till springtime, but you’ll meet them eventually. Rhona and Harry are the best. I’ve known them my whole life. They’re hippies—flower power, love not war, everything’s groovy, man types. My mom always thought they were a hoot, and my dad thought they were a bad example. But if anyone was going to walk in on us, we were lucky it was Rhona. Not that I took it well. I didn’t. I rushed out of that basement like a cat with its tail on fire…and I didn’t speak to Coop for a whole week. That still ranks as one of the worst weeks of my life. No joke. I lived in absolute blinding fear that she’d say something. Not out of malice—Rhona’s not like that. More like…in passing.” I modulated my voice to a woman’s falsetto. “ ‘Coop and Reg are taking wrestling to a new extreme! I couldn’t get a sheet of paper between them the way they were slipping and sliding on my sofa.’ ”