Page 83 of Hard Check
Dawson didn't look up. He couldn't, not yet. He'd spent twenty years braced for the wrong reaction — disgust, distance, a brother who'd pull back a careful inch. Not for this. Not for Ethan being hurt that he'd been shut out of it.
"Every time I said bring a date to dinner, every time I asked and you shut down, I thought you were just private. I wasn't going to push. But this whole time—" Ethan stopped, pulled his cap off,dragged a hand through his hair, put it back on. "You didn't trust me."
"It wasn't about trust."
"Then what?"
Dawson looked up. His brother’s face was stripped open, the gruff exterior gone, and what sat underneath was a man who loved him and had been locked out without knowing it.
“I didn’t know how to start,” Dawson said. “Justin knew. He figured it out on his own a long time ago. But I’ve never said the words to family. You’re the first. You hear all these horror stories about families cutting someone off for being gay. Logically, I think I knew that wouldn’t happen, but it’s still scary as hell to jump off that cliff.”
Ethan went quiet. Words had always come easy to him; he'd never had to think twice about speaking his mind. Dawson could see him working out that it had never been that simple on the other side of the table.
After a while, Ethan spoke. "So are you going to do something about it, or are you just going to sit here and be miserable until he forgets you exist?"
Dawson didn't have an answer. He'd been asking himself the same question for a week and a half. “I have no clue. I just know I can’t ask him to give me another chance while I’m still pretending to be someone I’m not. He deserves better than that.”
“You’re right, he does. But you just told me," Ethan said. "You did the thing you've been afraid of your whole life and the ceiling didn't cave in." He held Dawson's gaze. "So maybe stop assuming the worst about everyone and go talk to him. Heprobably understands that it’s going to take time for you to tell everyone, but you’re trying.”
Dawson's hands were shaking, a fine tremor he couldn't stop. He pressed his palms flat against his jeans and breathed until they went still. “Maybe you’re right.”
“You’re going to have to tell Wyatt,” Ethan said.
“I know.”
“Not tonight. But soon. He’ll be weird about it for a while. You know how he is.” Ethan paused. “But he’ll come around. And if he doesn’t, I’ll handle it.”
The TV played. The kitchen light hummed. The house was the same house it had been an hour ago, yet everything in it was different.
“You hungry?” Ethan asked again.
This time Dawson was. “Yeah. Starving, actually.”
He went to the kitchen, heated the chili, and brought two bowls to the living room. He handed one to Ethan, who took it without comment and turned up the TV.
They ate on the couch. Ethan poured too much hot sauce, like he always did. The TV played. Neither of them talked, and for the first time in weeks, the silence didn’t feel like it was hiding anything.
The rest of it — telling Wyatt, telling his parents, deciding what to do about Leo — could wait until tomorrow. He’d survived coming out once. That was enough for one night.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
The poster board had been blank on the counter for forty minutes, and Dawson still couldn't make himself pick up the marker.
It wasn't the words. He knew the basic sentiment of what he wanted to say, but nothing felt right. He needed to draw Leo’s attention without making an ass out of both of them. He'd spent his whole life learning how not to be seen. Tonight he was going to make himself the most visible man in the building.
He'd already texted Ethan.I need a ride to the game tonight.Nothing else. Ethan asked what time and hung up, and now he'd be pulling into the driveway any minute. And Dawson was still standing at the counter with his hand not moving.
The strangers weren't the problem. Ten thousand people who didn't know his name could think whatever they wanted. It was the thought of someone recording the moment and posting it to social media. As much as he wanted to do this, he wasn’t thrilled about the possibility of their reconciliation becoming a viral moment.
He thought about Leo's face the last time he'd seen it — shut down and careful, none of the usual light in it. Dawson had done that to him.
He pulled the cap off the Sharpie.
The first letter was the hardest. After that, he just kept moving. Block letters. No frills. He worried his attempt at being clever yet respectful was going to fall flat.
He capped the marker when he was done and stared at the words on the board. His stomach churned harder with every passing minute.
He satin the passenger seat of Ethan’s truck with a piece of poster board on his lap, a Stags hoodie he’d never worn before stiff against his shoulders, the tag scratching the back of his neck. His knee was bouncing again. He pressed his hand against it and held it still, and it started again as soon as he let go. His shirt was already damp, and they weren’t even there yet.
