Page 79 of The Callahan Effect

"The fact I'd spent the whole flight worrying about losing my best friend when in reality, I might have gained another."

Emotion settled heavily in my chest again.

"I should've trusted you."

"You needed to trust yourself first." He shrugged. "Everything happened when you were ready."

"I still hate the way I kept it from you and the way I told you."

"You mean telling me you’re gay by introducing me to your boyfriend over a video call?"

"When you put it like that..."

"It wasn't exactly subtle."

"No, it wasn't, and I can't deny it hurt. But if I'm being honest..." He leaned back in the chair. "Getting a phone call from Jack telling me you were lying unconscious in hospital helped me put everything into perspective real fast."

"Were you angry during the flight?"

"No."

"What then?"

"Scared. More fucking scared than I’ve been in my entire life."

The few words carried more weight than an entire speech.

"I kept thinking I'd wasted the chance to tell you none of it mattered." His gaze drifted toward the window before returning to me. "You were still Mason. The guy who'd had my back since middle school. The guy who nearly got suspended for punching a senior because he thought I was being bullied."

"He was bullying you."

"He borrowed my calculator."

"He threw it in the lake."

"That's beside the point."

"I disagree."

Corey laughed for the first time since arriving.

"I'd forgotten how stubborn you are."

"I've had a concussion. I'm entitled."

"You've been stubborn since we met."

"I prefer determined."

"I know you do."

The easy banter we'd always shared slipped naturally back into place, and for the first time since I'd told him about Jack, it felt as though the distance between Florida and Spokane had finally disappeared.

A quiet knock interrupted us before we could continue.

Jack appeared around the partly open door first, balancing a cardboard tray carrying four coffees while Dad followed with another tray loaded with muffins and fruit. Mom smiled the moment she saw Corey and me talking comfortably, the relief on her face impossible to miss.

"I'll take it that means we don't have to play mediator," Dad observed.