Page 63 of Zero Confusion

He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. In a few seconds, everything would change.

But that was what he wanted.

“I’m gay,” he said quietly. “And I’m staying in Portland after I graduate.”

She flinched and took a small step back.

“Oh.”

Walking back to the counter, she acted like nothing had happened, carefully picking up a cookie from the baking sheet and setting it down on the platter.

“You should have told us sooner,” she said flatly, repeating the process until the baking sheet was empty. “We could have…done something. Gotten you someone to talk to.”

Zach’s stomach churned. “I don’t need anyone to talk to,” he said in a small voice, almost pleading. “There’s nothing to change. This is who I am.”

She shook her head. “No, it’s not. You’re a good boy. It’s that city! Oh, I should never have let you go so far away.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but she sagged onto a stool, and tears filled her eyes, shock and fear mingling into something that felt like a slap in the face. “I don’t understand,” she whispered. “This isn’t how you were raised, Zachariah. I don’t know what I did wrong.”

And that, that was the part that broke him. She blamed herself, as though his being gay meant she’d failed as a parent. She was crying for him like he was already lost.

He’d expected this, known it was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier to see the pain in her eyes. The disappointment. The misplaced hope that he might yet be fixed.

“I don’t—”

“No!” Her voice went up a few octaves as she slapped her hand on the counter. “You don’t understand what you’re saying. You’re too young. You’re confused. Please, Zach, please think about what this will do to your father. To all of us. What will the neighbors say?”

There it was. Proof of his mother’s priorities.

His body was numb. Whatever shred of hope he’d been holding onto—somewhere deep, deep inside his soul—was lost. He noted the anger on his mother’s face with a detached feeling, as if watching a film, some kind of tragic drama. As if he wasn’t in the middle of the worst moment of his life.

“Mom, I’m an adult. I’ve always known who I am. Whatever nonsense you’re reading online is wrong—who I love is not a choice.” He swallowed hard. “But hiding was a choice, and right now, I’m choosing myself.”

He was proud of getting all of that out without breaking down, and it didn’t matter that she’d been shaking her head through every word. He did it for himself.

“Should I go?” he asked softly. It was a rhetorical question. There was no universe in which she’d listen to reason, calm down, ask him to stay and talk. Because he’d already abandoned any hope of a good outcome, he wasn’t surprised when she pressed her lips together and turned away.

Zach gritted his teeth and cast one final look around the house where he grew up, then grabbed his bag and stepped out the front door, letting it click shut behind him.

There was just one thing left to do.

Most of the guests had parked along the side of the road in a long line, but Miles’s truck was sitting in the driveway, since he’d driven Max. It was unlocked, as always, and Zach gingerly placed the wrinkled note and the horseshoe on the dashboard. Would Miles still want it after tonight? He hoped so, desperately wishing a part of him would always stay with Miles, but it was out of his hands now.

He was done here.

After getting into the rental, he fastened his seatbelt and carefully pulled out of the driveway.

Fireworks lit up the sky behind him as he drove, pops of color blurred by the tears streaming down his face. Every mile he put between himself and his former home felt like an insurmountable distance. He would never go back.

He burned all the bridges tonight.

Chapter 23

MILES

After helping Max limp into the backyard, Miles paused to take in the scene. They’d arrived early, but the air was already buzzing—clusters of neighbors talking early harvest over cans of beer, old country tunes drifting from a small speaker by the entrance. A few people glanced over, curiosity lighting up their faces the moment they spotted Max’s cast.

“Great,” Max muttered. “The audience is here.”