Hard Truths

by Alex Whitehall

  “Ow! Hey! I only mean it’s a depressing movie!”

  She paused, hand raised for a second smack, then lowered it and shrugged. “Yeah, it is.”

  I shifted in Logan’s arm and glanced around at my friends. It was a shame Jackson and Emmett hadn’t been able to make it, but getting a babysitter for a movie night wasn’t worth it. Sometimes we’d take it to their place, but the kid had been crankier than usual today, and they’d requested to sit this one out. “Has anyone heard the weather forecast for this weekend?”

  “Why, want to get snowed in?” Mark waggled his bushy red eyebrows in the most ridiculous manner, in case we didn’t get the gist.

  “Need to stock up on eggs, milk, and bread first,” Logan said.

  “Oooh, gonna make me French toast?” I teased, but as soon as the idea was out there, it was appealing.

  “You were the one asking about the weather. I thought you were going to make it for me.”

  “Well, no one actually said if we were getting any snow.” I glanced around. Roe already had their phone out.

  “Two to three inches on Sunday, but nothing that would trap you inside. Unless, of course, you want to be trapped inside.”

  “Two to three inches sounds like a good time for French toast.”

  Mark whispered, “That’s a super weird euphemism.”

  I snickered. “Oh, trust me, Mark, it’s way bigger than three inches.”

  As everyone had a chuckle, Logan’s cheeks darkened, so I kissed one of them. “And he knows how to use it.”

  Logan turned and caught my mouth in a quick peck. “You’re terrible.”

  “They bring out the worst in me.”

  “Mostly Mark,” Roe interjected. “He only has sex on the brain.”

  “’Cause I’m carrying your portion. Someone had to take it!”

  Roe grabbed a pillow off the couch and swung it; Mark leaped up with a pillow in his hands to block the strike.

  I watched for a moment, then focused on Logan as the two of them had their pillow fight. “So, what do you think of my friends?”

  “Pretty sure they can hear us.” Logan squeezed my shoulders. “They’re a lot like you, so a good bunch. Though you’re the most handsome.”

  I laughed and kissed his chin. “Well played.”

  “Roe,” Jenna whined, “they’re being cute again. Make it stop.”

  Roe paused in the middle of pummeling Mark and glanced over their shoulder. “Why is that my job? As long as they aren’t fucking on my couch, I don’t care.”

  “Note: no fucking on Roe’s couch,” Logan said. “Wait, does that mean we can fuck—”

  “No.” Roe’s flat tone left no room for argument, not that I thought Logan had had actual plans to fuck anywhere in Roe’s house.

  “Darn.”

  I shook my head and dragged the conversation back to my original idea. “So Saturday is gonna be nice?”

  Roe snorted. “If three-degree temps are ‘nice,’ then sure. Oh, and twenty-mile-per-hour winds.”

  “That won’t be a problem. Wasn’t exactly planning on hiking or anything,” I said.

  “Yeah? And what were you planning?”

  “To go visit Jackson and Emmett if they’re free.” I looked to Logan. “If you’d like to meet them tomorrow?”

  “I’m totally up for that.”

  “Wow. Making plans right in front of us. Rude,” Laura muttered.

  I glanced at her. “Well, I was going to invite you all to join us, but I changed my mind, now.”

  Jenna elbowed her girlfriend. “We have plans anyway, remember?”

  “Oh yeah. Your family is such a pai—”

  “Payload of delight?”

  “Yes. A giant payload of delight.”

  Jenna grinned. “Mom’s making her apple coffee cakes.”

  Laura’s eyes lit up. “All is forgiven.”

  Beside me, Logan tensed, and I stretched my arm across his torso to give him a comforting squeeze. Mentions of family didn’t always bother him, but sometimes the small things hurt the most—because they were the most unexpected. Like papercuts under a fingernail.

  “So you guys are all out to your families?” Logan asked, and I had to reassess my conclusion on why he’d tensed.

  “I am,” Jenna said. “Laura is to her immediate family, and they’re . . . coping still.”

  Laura made a face, scrunching her freckled nose. “My extended family is pretty conservative, so we’re not rushing to tell them. Plus I never see them except at the yearly family reunion that I want to get out of anyway.”

  Mark nodded. “And my parents told me when I was ten that if I was gay or straight or whatever, it was ‘fine by them’ and they’d always love me. So it wasn’t so much coming out to them as it was telling them who I was dating.”

  Roe shrugged. “My parents are hella confused and don’t get it, but yeah, I’m out.”

  Logan’s arm tightened around my shoulders, and suddenly it felt constrictive, not supportive. But he didn’t question why I wasn’t out to mine when everyone else was. Maybe he knew it was none of his damn business. Maybe he knew I wasn’t ready for the fallout that seemed almost inevitable.

  “What about you?” Mark asked, and for a moment I thought he was asking me, like he didn’t know.

  “My parents knew, but my grandparents passed early, and my aunt and uncle were mostly estranged from us.” Logan’s shrug was a taut jerk. “Now it’s just me.”

  “Oh.” Mark winced. “Sorry.”

  Another tight shrug.

  “So,” I said, overly loud, “if people want to invite themselves over to Jackson’s tomorrow, I’ll let you know if we’re going.” In fact, I pulled out my phone and shot off a text to the Jackson and Emmett chat thread.

  A few minutes—and a conversation switch—later, and Jackson replied.

  We’re free. If you come over for lunch, afterward we can put Rosa down for her nap and actually converse like adults.

  I grinned. Sounds good. Mark and Roe might “stop by” too.

  Okay. They going to bring eye candy too?

  I glanced up at them and interrupted, “Hey, Jackson wants to know if you two are bringing eye candy tomorrow.”

  “If I had any,” Mark grumbled.

  “Skittles?” Roe offered, gray eyes lit with teasing.

  I wouldn’t expect much from them, I texted.

  When I slid my phone back into my pocket, Logan said, “So I’m eye candy, now, am I?”

  I gave him a dry glare. “My sister seems to think so.”

  He grinned. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

  “It does have the makings of a sitcom. But I’m glad she brought you.” I tried for a sultry leer, but it was probably more sap than sult.

  “So am I,” he whispered, and closed the distance to kiss me.

  It was soft and sweet, and the voices around us faded to a murmur that hummed indistinctly through my body. I couldn’t pay attention to that insignificant buzz when Logan’s fingers were trailing electricity along my neck. He cupped the back, but he didn’t pull me forward. Just held me there. Maybe he remembered that we were in a room full of people—one of us should—or maybe he wanted to tease my lips with his tongue and keep me from diving in for more.

  He drew back slowly, and when I opened my eyes, his met mine. They seemed darker, deeper, than ever before. They made promises—not only the ones that would be fulfilled later tonight in bed, but ones beyond that, into tomorrow and the weeks to come. We hadn’t said the words, but in his eyes I saw them: I love you.

  I wanted to whisper them back, but here among my friends in this absolutely ordinary moment didn’t seem the right time. So I tilted my lips and held his gaze as I brushed a kiss against his mouth. I hoped he could read the same words in my eyes.

  “So are we ready for another movie?” Roe’s voice broke through the moment.

  I blinked and glanced over to them. Then to the clock on the wall. “Um, maybe we
could order dinner first?”

  When I checked back, Roe had their neatly sculpted brow raised, silently chiding me for getting lost in Logan. But they didn’t say anything about it. “Sounds good. What are folks in the mood for?”

  Everyone broke out in discussion, and I turned to Logan.

  He was staring at me, his devilish grin gone. He looked besotted. I leaned my head on his shoulder and tilted my face so I could still sort of see him. “So, what are you in the mood for?”

  A deep chuckle vibrated his chest, and the sweetness melted back to sexiness. “I think Roe already said I couldn’t have that until later.”

  The kiss was awkward with how our heads were positioned, but that made it more fun. “Fine, then, what do you want to eat?”

  Another chuckle, and I didn’t even need him to say something.

  “For dinner,” I added.

  “Pizza’s good for me,” he said, loud enough for the group to hear.

  I grinned. “Yeah, it’ll do for now.”

  Within twenty minutes of arriving at Jackson and Emmett’s the next day, Logan had his hands full of Rosa while I helped Jackson with the dishes and Emmett made another sippy cup for her.

  “Sorry,” I said, although Logan didn’t seem at all bothered by the whimpering child. “I didn’t expect we’d get here and be put to work.”

  Logan laughed. “Hey, I’ve got no siblings, so this is the closest I’ve been to being an uncle so far. My friends need to get on the ball.”

  Jackson smiled, all innocence. “Maybe they’re waiting for you to start them off.”

  I glared at him.

  “Oh please,” Logan said, seemingly oblivious to the looks I was casting. “Not that you have to get hitched before having a kid, but it sure does make it easier to have an extra set of hands around. And until recently it was only me.”

  I cleared my throat. “Do you want kids?”

  He must have heard the reluctance in my voice, because he brought Rosa to stand beside me where I was drying a pot. “I could take them or leave them. I’m a little sad that my family will pretty much be dying out if I don’t, but I do admit being the uncle has a lot more appeal.”

  “That’s . . . good to hear.”

  He bumped my shoulder with his. “Not into kids?”

  “Oh, I love other people’s kids. Rosa is a delight. Because I give her back and go home. I . . . I don’t want to do it. I don’t want to fu—um, mess up and I don’t want them to hate me and I don’t want to be a bad parent.” I sighed. “It sounds stupid.”

  “No!” Rosa shouted.

  It was pretty much the only word in her vocabulary at the moment. The shout was probably because Logan had shifted her to his other arm and she was cranky. But the timing made me smile.

  “Like this wise little child said,” Logan said once we’d all stopped being stupidly awed by her, “there’s no bad reason to not want a kid. Maybe if we were in the zombie apocalypse—or, well, any apocalypse, I guess—but there are plenty of kids and parents to go around as it is. Reluctant parents are not going to make good parents.”

  I smirked. “I think you implied I’d be a bad parent.”

  He rolled his eyes. “But a great uncle.”

  Emmett arrived and took Rosa and her sippy cup to the table, and Jackson and I finished the dishes. Eventually we all migrated to the table with father and daughter.

  “So,” Jackson said to Logan, “I’m totally not going to point out that it’s been like two months and we’re only meeting you now.”

  “Oh my god,” I groaned, although this had definitely been expected.

  Logan smiled, like Jackson was teasing. Maybe Jackson was. I never could be sure. “I apologize profusely. The one downside of working for yourself is you’re the only person to get a job done. I do hope Isaac told you this and didn’t let you think that I didn’t want to meet everyone.”

  “I did,” I said. “He’s being a bastard.”

  “Language,” Emmett reminded, the hypocritical so-and-so.

  “He’s being a disgruntled illegitimate child,” I amended.

  Jackson sighed, as if I were a burden he had to put up with. “I’m glad we finally got to meet you. You seem to make Isaac happy.” He thumped his fist into his left hand, which probably would have seemed more threatening coming from Emmett, but I wasn’t going to tell him. “Make sure you don’t hurt him.”

  “I have no intention of doing that.”

  “Is my virtue safe now?” I grumbled.

  “Oh, something tells me your virtue has long since been marred.”

  Logan smirked, and I smacked him. “Virtue besmircher.”

  “You loved it.”

  The warmth flooded my chest, much like it had the night before when I’d first wanted to whisper those three words. Who cared if the moment wasn’t special and romantic? I leaned close, lips brushing his ear as I said, “Because I love you.”

  He turned, his lips meeting mine in a kiss as he whispered back, “I love you too.”

  My friends had the decency to not call us on being disgustingly cute and fussed with Rosa instead. I couldn’t remember if we’d afforded them the same courtesy when they’d been in the new-love stage.

  “Well,” Jackson said, “I’m glad you finally got to meet Isaac’s family.”

  I stiffened, and Jackson must have seen it, because he added, “His chosen family, that is. The most important kind.”

  “Absolutely.” Logan slid an arm around my shoulders as if nothing awkward had passed across the table. “I’m sorry it took so long.”

  “Meeting the family is a big step.”

  “Yeah,” Emmett scoffed, “next comes the marriage proposal.”

  “Hey! It’s been two months! And I barely got to see him for most of that,” I said.

  Logan smiled. “Don’t worry, babe, I always figured I’d propose on the one-year anniversary of us meeting.”

  “Does that mean on Christmas Day or the day after?”

  “I guess that’ll be the surprise.” He gave me a cheeky grin, and I knew he was joking. Hell, many relationships didn’t last a year. Who knew where we’d be.

  I rolled my eyes and kissed his cheek. “Dork.”

  Jackson and Emmett launched into the standard questions when meeting a new friend: his job, his interests, his favorite anime.

  “Oh god,” Logan said, “you’re all giant nerds.”

  “Pot, kettle,” I reminded him.

  “I wasn’t judging! I was excited. My friends are kind of nerds, but nothing like you guys. I always feel like a dweeb when I’m with them and arguing about inconsistencies in the Star Wars universe.”

  It was hard to imagine Logan—broad-shouldered, rippling-muscles Logan—calling himself a dweeb, but I had long since come to accept and delight in his nerdiness, whether it was reading queer romance novels or spending a weekend rewatching the director’s cut of Lord of the Rings.

  “You do not give the dweeb first impression,” Emmett assured, and they shared a fist bump like two dude-bros would do, which was fitting since Emmett and Logan could totally pass as them. And yet here they were bonding over being giant—literally—nerds.

  Then Rosa threw her peas in the way toddlers do, and we were all directed back to more messy matters.

  Spring was a tricky thing that was made of lies. Supposedly March twentieth was spring, but most years it was cold and rainy, which wasn’t a great welcome for the season. This year had the dubious benefit of heralding in Easter shortly after, which I didn’t give two fucks about, but which my mother had insisted I come home to celebrate with her and Dad.

  “Honey,” she whined into the phone while I chopped up a head of broccoli for dinner. I wanted dinner and this conversation to be done by the time Logan got here, and I definitely had higher hopes for the former.

  “Mom, I love to see you guys”—I only sort of stretched the truth to breaking—“but now’s not a great time.”

  “Your sister’s coming.�
��

  Which was the only reason what I’d said hadn’t been a total lie. “I know.”

  I was a little curious about what trickery Mom had used to get Sue to agree to that again. Maybe she was just a better offspring.

  “And I’m sure she’d like her brother there,” Mom said, “after the recent breakup with her boyfriend.”

  I almost bit my tongue in surprise, thinking of her with Logan at Christmas. But then I remembered that Sue had “broken up” with Logan back in January and had been dating someone else since then. A friend of a friend of Logan who he’d helpfully hooked her up with. As far as I knew from Logan’s reports, the breakup had been amicable and she was staying friends with the guy. Nothing necessitating brotherly support. “She seemed okay when I talked to her.”

  “Oh, so you call her and not your mother?”

  I should have seen that coming. Thankfully I could say, “She called me.” She had. After I texted that she should call me when she had a minute.

  “You should make an effort to stay connected with your family. We’re the only one you’ve got.”

  I sighed. She must have heard my fight weakening, because she went on. “And your father and I won’t be around forever.”

  “You’re both in good health and young.” But thinking about Logan and his parents, already taken from him by a car crash, tripled the guilt Mom was so good at brewing. I wasn’t appreciating what I had while I had it. Logan would give almost anything to have more time with his parents, and here I was doing everything I could to get out of going to see mine. “But I sure do miss your Easter ham.”

  “Oh you! We sure will be happy to see you.”

  “It’ll be good to see you too.” I hoped my sigh didn’t carry over the line. “What time do you want me to be there?”

  It turned out phone calls didn’t take nearly as long when I gave in to all her demands. Five minutes later I was off the phone, tied in to spend Easter Sunday with my folks and bring a lemon meringue pie. Least there would be good food and Sue. On the other hand, it meant that I’d be leaving behind Logan.

  No matter what I chose, I’d be left with an unhealthy dose of guilt.

  I turned my attention to preparing dinner and tried not to think about breaking the news to him. Chop, sauté, mix, batter, season, bake. A dozen or so ingredients that came together beautifully, if I did say so myself.