Page 108 of Exposing Colorado

“Bullshit,” Devon bites out with barely-contained rage. “You knew. You just didn’t care.”

Mom sobs harder, her shoulders shaking as she hides her face. Dad looks like he’s been punched in the gut, but I can't find it in me to feel sorry for them right now.

“We were just kids, Dev. A couple of teenagers with no clue what they were doing. Your mother and I had planned on keeping the pregnancy quiet until we could marry, but my parents found out and threatened to have us excommunicated from the church unless we signed our rights away. The shame alone of having a child out of wedlock would have been enough, but losing our community was more than we could bear.”

“I was also a kid,” Dev replies through gritted teeth, his grip tightening almost painfully. “Do you have any fucking clue what kind of life you sold me into? They made me feel like the devil lived in me. Every fucking summer, when they'd send me⁠—”

He cuts himself off abruptly. For the first time since I woke up, he drops my hand and bolts from the room.

The door swings shut heavily behind him, slicing through the silence like a blade. I can only sit there in my bed, stunned, watching the space where Devon had been a moment ago while my fingers flex like they're reaching for him.

My hand feels so much colder without his in it.

Dad runs both palms down his face aggressively. “We didn’t know it was that bad.”

“You should have,” I say flatly. “You gave up your firstborn for a God that probably doesn't exist.”

Mom finally lifts her head, gasping with tears streaking down her cheeks. “Logan Joseph Peterson, don't you dare say something like that!”

Ignoring the use of my full name, I drop back onto the pillows and stare at the ceiling in exhaustion. “Where do I even fit into all this? Why did you choose me instead of trying to get Devon back?”

Dad opens and shuts his mouth a few times, mulling over his words without saying anything. Mom just stares at me like a stranger who's taken the shape of her son. Maybe I am.

“We didn’t choose you over him,” she finally says quietly. “The pregnancy was rough. I probably should have gone to a hospital, but Joel's parents were so intent on hiding it that I gave birth in their home. It ruined something inside of me. When we tried again after marriage, the doctors told us there was so much scar tissue that I was unlikely to conceive again, and the adoption papers we signed were closed. They didn't want him to know, that's why they kept him away from us. You were… a second chance.”

“A do-over,” I mutter bitterly. “You adopted a whole baby to ease your guilty conscience.”

“That’s not fair,” Dad barks, but I turn to him with a glare.

“No, what’s not fair is the shit Devon went through because you were too fucking scared to stand up to your parents. What’s not fair is being treated like a second coming when he never even got to be the first.”

They both fall silent, eyes widening at the way I nearly scream those words. It’s then that I realize none of this fucking matters. I don't care about the lies anymore, or the hypocrisy. The fact that they made me propose to Salem because we were living together when they were doing far worse at far younger.

In the grand scheme of things, none of it holds a candle to the fact that I almost died. I did die, holy shit. My heart stopped for four whole minutes.

I've been given another shot at life, and I sure as shit will not waste it crying over things I can't change. Somewhere out there, my wife thinks I'm dead, and I need to get stronger so that I can find her. But first…

First, I need to be honest with myself, my parents and God before I do.

“I like men,” I blurt, feeling both terrified and elated to finally say those words out loud. “Including Devon. And I don’t mean in a way that’ll make you sleep better at night, I mean I like him. The way you taught me not to. The way your church made me hate myself for.”

Mom’s hand flies to her mouth, and Dad takes a shocked step back. “But… but you're married. To Salem!”

“I like her too.” A laugh bubbles up my throat at how ridiculous that sounds—like a grade school crush. What I feel for Salem can’t be quantified into words, and she doesn't even know that I'm alive right now.

Dad looks like he’s buffering—eyes wide, mouth ajar. Mom, meanwhile, sinks slowly into the vinyl chair like all the strength has been zapped out of her.

“You’re… bisexual?” She whispers the word like a slur.

I let it roll around in my head, testing the feel of how it applies to myself. “Yeah, I guess. Sounds right. And no, it’s not because Salem broke my heart. And no, I’m not confused. I’ve always known. I just didn’t feel safe enough to admit it until now.”

Not to anyone.

Jesus Christ, Huck and I are going to have so much to talk about. Out of all the things we have in common, I never thought nearly dying and liking men would be two of them.

Both of my parents stare at me as if I’ve sprouted a second head, utterly speechless. Floundering like a bunch of guppies.

Shit, my fish. Where the hell is Sitka?