by DJ Jamison
Avery felt a niggle of envy. Tyrone wasn’t even Rory’s father, and he gifted him with more acceptance than Avery’s father would give him. It wasn’t fair, but then, what in the world was?
“What did he mean about that comment regarding his father’s tolerance? Did Tyrone have some sort of falling out with his dad?”
Rory pulled back the covers. “Get in bed. I’ll tell you the story. I think you should hear it, but it’s not a happy one.”
Avery had already washed his face, taking one last look at the remaining makeup, so he now stripped off his shirt and jeans. He thought for half a second about wearing something sexy to bed, but they were in a house full of Rory’s family. Sex wasn’t on the agenda, so he settled for a pair of pajama bottoms and climbed under the blankets. Rory wore a pair of tight boxer briefs, his trim body on display. Avery might know sex wasn’t in the plans, but that didn’t stop his eyes from appreciating all that skin.
Rory slipped under the covers, hiding his tempting body, and turned on his side to face Avery.
“So, I don’t think I told you exactly how my mom met Tyrone.”
“You mentioned it was online?” Avery said.
“It was through an LGBTQ support chat. Tyrone’s younger brother, Michael, was gay. Not just gay, maybe. Tyrone thinks now he was trans. But back then, they didn’t understand that.”
“You’re using past tense…”
Rory nodded. “Mom was helping moderate a support group. Some people were there to come to terms with their son, or daughter, or sister, or whatever coming out as gay or bi or trans. Some of them, though, were there for other reasons. Tyrone was there to try to make sense of his brother’s suicide after he was disowned by their family. They didn’t like how he talked, how he moved, how he dressed. Who he loved.”
Avery felt a sick churn in his stomach. “So, he…”
Rory nodded once, looking concerned. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard to hear. I just wanted you to understand why Tyrone would never judge you, would never say a single word to make you feel wrong. He knows what damage it can do, and he knows that sometimes, there’s no taking it back. He left his parents behind, became active in LGBTQ organizations, particularly those engaged with the black community, and he’s been fighting to change hearts and minds ever since. Mom is right there beside him, of course. She helped recruit him to his first volunteer position, and they fell hard for one another.”
“I guess you and your mom are cut from the same cloth, huh?” Avery said, feeling a little overwhelmed. Rory, his mom, Tyrone—they were all such good people, fighting for justice. What was Avery fighting for? He couldn’t even find the courage to fight his own fears.
“I like to think my best traits all come from her,” Rory said. “Hey, hey.”
Avery realized he was trembling, his skin hot and sweaty. Rory drew him close. “That will never happen to you,” he murmured, seeming to understand how Avery was affected. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped it all on you like that.”
Avery cleared his throat. “I’m just being silly.”
Rory drew back, meeting his eyes. “I doubt that. But you’re not him, Avery. And you’re not alone. My family is your family, and it’s a pretty good one, if I do say so myself.”
Avery smiled weakly. He didn’t doubt it. He was sure they’d treat him like family while they were here for Christmas break, but that was temporary. Would he and Rory even last beyond the fundraising gala? His father had agreed to work on killing the bill. There was still hope they could reconcile. But Avery knew it would never be a close, warm relationship. It would always revolve around politics and image.
Still, it was what he’d always known. And his father hadn’t disowned him for being gay.
But he might for dressing too femme. Who knows?
He pushed away the thought. Drake Kinkaid didn’t deserve his concern. He knew that much. He was more invested in his political career, in his business networking, than he’d ever been in Avery’s well-being. Avery didn’t want him to have any influence over his decisions anymore, even if by some miracle, they regained some semblance of a father-son relationship.
Avery had come so far in getting past his hang-ups. He’d finally had the kind of sex he’d always craved, and it’d been spectacular. Anything with Rory was amazing, but he’d felt so close to him. So connected.
There was only this…irrational fear hovering over Avery, suffocating him, making him feel like a man in a costume. He didn’t need to dress pretty all the time, but sometimes…he wanted to let out that side of himself, a side he’d shoved deep, tried to smother, but which always found its way to the surface again.
That night, he’d worn makeup, even if it was just for a little girl’s game. He’d worn a subtle but pretty shirt, something that made him feel good inside. They were just baby steps, but he treasured them. Because for the first time, he could acknowledge in his head that dressing for himself, alone, wasn’t enough.
Pretending to fit the world’s expectations wasn’t enough.
The story about Tyrone’s brother unsettled him. It scared the shit out of him, actually. It was tempting to let it be one more reason to fight his nature, to hide and try to conform. But he knew that way led to his ruin. Their situations weren’t even remotely the same, but there were some parallels he couldn’t ignore.
He had to accept himself, fully. Accept all his desires and let go of his fears, regardless of what other people thought, before it destroyed him.
19
Rory woke early and slipped out of bed, careful not to disturb Avery. He’d woken more than once to find Avery tossing and turning—and once—to find the bed empty beside him. He’d sat up, worried, until Avery had turned from the window to reassure him he was fine. He’d returned to bed, kissing Rory softly, and urging him back to the pillows. Soothing him to sleep.
Now, fully awake, Rory wanted to kick himself. Avery was the one who’d needed the soothing, and Rory had been too out of it to comfort him. The least he could do was let Avery sleep in a while. He had no doubt he’d been the cause of his restless night, with that sad story about Michael. He’d wanted Avery to know he would be unconditionally accepted in this family, but it wasn’t something easy to hear. Rory had been disturbed by it, and he didn’t relate in the way Avery must.
He hoped it wasn’t all too much for Avery. Being here, meeting Rory’s family, cutting himself away from a toxic relationship with his father, finally exploring his true sexual desires. It had to be a lot to process.
Rory showered, shaved, slipped into jeans and a gray Henley, and pulled his hair back in a messy knot. Before he reached the bedroom door, Avery levered up on an elbow. “Time to get up?”
Rory turned. “You can sleep a while longer.”
Avery scrubbed at his eyes, sitting up straight. “It’s okay. I’m good.”
Rory returned to the bedside, sitting on the edge near Avery’s hip. “You didn’t get much sleep last night.”
Avery flashed a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Guess I was a little restless, but I’m fine.”
Rory hesitated. This is the moment he’d normally push Avery to talk. But Rory had been pushing so much lately. Instead, he ran a hand through Avery’s hair and dropped a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
“Take your time getting ready. There’s no rush.”
“Okay.” Avery yawned, stretching his arms over his head. The blankets pooled in his lap, exposing his smooth chest, and Rory was tempted to climb back into bed and make Avery feel good. The clatter of pans and murmur of voices drifted from the kitchen, putting an end to that idea.
“I’ll save you a cup of coffee.”
Rory made a beeline to the kitchen, ready to start his day with his usual caffeine injection. Tyrone was in there, manning the pancake griddle while his mom managed sausage and eggs.
“You guys didn’t have to do all this,” Rory said.
Rory had visited enough times to know they usually ate cer
eal, oatmeal, or fruit in the morning. His mom reeled him in, smacking a kiss to his cheek. “It’s not every day my favorite son brings home the man he loves.”
Rory rolled his eyes. “I’m your only son.”
“Hmm. Lucky you. No competition for my love.”
“It smells great,” Rory said, mouth watering as he backed up to give them room to work. “I can’t wait to eat.”
“It should be ready any minute now,” Tyrone said, adding a couple of more pancakes to the finished stack he had beside him. He and Rory’s mom moved in a sort of synchronized chaos, stepping around each other to grab plates and silverware, taking pans off burners.
Rory took his coffee and escaped to the dining room where Keisha sat with her eyes glued to her cellphone. Monique wasn’t there, but Rory could hear the television playing in the next room. She’d come running once food was on the table, no doubt.
“Morning, Key.”
Keisha barely looked up. “Hey, Rory.”
“Chatting with a boyfriend?” She didn’t answer. “Girlfriend?” Still nothing. “Boyfriend and girlfriend?”
“Yeah, Rory,” she deadpanned. “I’m in a poly relationship in high school.”
He sighed. “You used to be such a sweet little girl.”
She lowered the phone, smiling. “I was chatting with my friend, Tara. She’s having a party on New Year’s Eve.”
“Oh, I see. Will you be attending this party?”
She started to answer but Tyrone interjected, “Only if there will be parents present at this party and no alcohol.”
She huffed. “Duh, Dad. It’s Tara. Her parents are even stricter than you.”
He snorted. “Baby girl, we are not strict,” he said. “You don’t know the meaning of strict. When I was your age—”
“Yeah, yeah. You worked a job, and your dad made you pay for your share of groceries. I know. I’ve heard the story three dozen times.”
Tyrone just grinned. “Then one more won’t hurt you.”
“Daaad.”
“Fine, you can go to the party, if you’re a charming daughter for the rest of Christmas week.”
She beamed, hopping up to kiss his cheek. “Thanks, Daddy! I’m gonna go look through my clothes. Is it too late to get something new for Christmas?”
She didn’t wait for Tyrone to answer, and he sighed with exasperation. “It’s time for breakfast,” he grumbled. “Girl wants to go look through all her clothes for a party a week away.”
Rory laughed. “So, how’s life raising a teenage girl?”
Tyrone looked skyward. “I ask God for help each and every day.”
Rory’s mom joined him at the table with a pitcher of orange juice and a plate piled with sausage.
Avery entered just as Tyrone bellowed for the girls. He looked good in jeans and a dark polo, but Rory thought it a rather stark contrast to the pale pink, rose-patterned shirt and makeup of the evening before. Did Avery think he had to compensate for that with dark, masculine colors? Maybe, maybe not. It’s not as if he had to dress in pretty colors or fabrics all the time, even if Rory loved it when he did.
“Morning, handsome,” Rory’s mom said as Avery took a seat.
“Morning,” Avery said, smiling brightly. “This looks great.”
Rory leaned in. “They don’t do breakfast like this all the time. It’s for you.”
Avery turned, blue eyes wide. “Oh, I would have been fine with coffee.”
Rory rested a hand on his thigh, squeezing. “Relax,” he murmured. “It means they want to impress you.”
“I am impressed, but I don’t deserve all this.”
Rory pecked a kiss to his lips because he was irresistible. This Avery seemed far removed from the guy who’d been bitching about the buffet at the gala earlier that fall. Rory never would have expected that guy to appreciate a home-cooked breakfast with family. But then again, galas were a dime a dozen for Avery. Breakfast with a family? That had to be a novelty.
Keisha and Monique took their places at the table, and Tyrone began passing around plates. Rory took eggs and pancakes, passing over the sausage. Avery took some of everything. “You don’t eat much meat,” Avery observed.
“Not this kind anyway,” Rory said with a wink.
Avery looked scandalized, nudging him in the ribs. “We’re eating breakfast with your family.”
Rory chuckled, confident no one else had heard. “I’ve tried to go vegetarian. Can’t quite swing it. But I have cut back a lot. Raising meat is just so hard on the environment, not to mention the animals.”
Avery glanced at his sausage guiltily. “Oh.”
Rory nudged his shoulder. “Oh, eat. I’m not judging.”
Rory couldn’t totally go without it himself. But he also figured it didn’t hurt to consume only as much as his body truly demanded of him.
Avery snorted. “That’s a first.”
Rory’s mom laughed. “He’s got your number.”
“Only because he was a spoiled rich boy in school who learned firsthand that Rory Fisher doesn’t put up with entitled jerks,” Rory teased.
Keisha perked up. “You went to school together?”
Breakfast passed as Rory filled in Keisha about their high school romance, and how they’d been waiting for the right time to be together. As much as it was a fiction, it was starting to feel true. Avery wasn’t in the right place to commit to Rory, and Rory hadn’t been in a place to wait. But they’d both missed one another and longed for the connection they’d had. It had clicked into place quickly when they reconnected.
“What are your plans for today?” Tyrone said. “You can’t go all the way into the mountains, but you can go partway, if you want to take a scenic drive.”
“That might be fun,” Rory said, and Avery nodded along. He’d tucked into his sausage and eggs with gusto once the conversation moved away from Rory’s feelings about meat. Just as well. He didn’t want Avery to feel self-conscious about anything more than he already did. The man had enough on his metaphoric plate without adding problems with his real plate. “We might do some shopping too. I have some Christmas gifts to buy.”
Keisha perked up. “I need a new dress. Something stylish for a party.”
“Uh-uh, Miss Thing,” Tyrone interjected. “Rory is not buying you clothes for that party. That’s too much.”
She stuck her lip out. “It was just a suggestion.”
Rory fought a smile. Keisha had grown up a lot since his last visit, and it was fun to see how the girls changed from year to year. The dynamic between daddy and daughter had definitely taken on notes of teenage rebellion, but he could tell they still had a good relationship.
“There’s always boarding school,” Avery said.
Everyone at the table looked at him, and he cracked a smile. “Sorry, just a joke.”
“It’s tempting,” Tyrone muttered. “Believe me.”
That evening, Avery waved with Rory as Tyrone, Katie, and the girls headed out for Christmas Eve service at the church. They’d spent the day exploring the mountains—as much as weather allowed—and the quaint shopping district in town, meeting up with the family again for lunch and dinner.
Monique had pleaded to do Rory’s hair and Avery’s makeup again, and Avery had happily agreed, although he steered her away from eye shadow and blush, sticking with eyeliner and a light pink lip gloss. He felt only a flicker of apprehension about wearing the makeup, and then only because he’d guided Monique in what he wanted. This time, he couldn’t pretend he was just humoring a little girl’s game. But that had always been a lie, and after hearing about Michael’s story, he knew intellectually that Tyrone wouldn’t have a problem with him. He could probably waltz out in a dress, and Rory’s family would barely blink.
He felt relaxed, really at ease, for the first time in days.
Rory’s family was lovely. Of course they were. He’d been silly to expect anything else. But the unknown had been a source of anxiety, especially when Avery felt like
he was caught in this constant struggle between who he was and who he should be.
Rory was encouraging—almost too encouraging. Sometimes Avery felt like he must be letting him down. He’d seen the flicker in his eyes when Avery entered the dining room that morning in a black polo and jeans, a bit of scruff on his face. He hadn’t said anything, but Avery knew Rory wanted to see him take his life by the reins and tell anyone who didn’t like it to fuck off. But that just wasn’t Avery, as much as he wished it could be.
But as the family left for the three-hour church service—Rory had refused, saying he didn’t believe in organized religion, and Avery had been relieved to dodge that bullet—Avery felt his nerves take hold of him.
He wasn’t ready to dress for the world, but he wanted to dress for himself—and for Rory.
“What, oh what, could we do with the time alone?” Rory said lightly, the look in his eyes giving away his thoughts. For a moment, Avery was tempted to take the easy way out and fall into bed with Rory. It would be good, really good. It always was. But he wanted to give Rory something more than a great night in bed. He wanted to give him another piece of himself.
Avery licked his lips. “I…might have a Christmas gift for you. A private one.”
Rory raised his eyebrows, looking intrigued. “Oh, yeah?”
“Maybe it’s more for me than you. I don’t know.” Avery felt himself tremble with nerves. “I’m not sure if—”
“Avery.” Rory kissed him gently. “I’m sure I’ll love it.”
Avery took a calming breath and nodded. Rory would love it, he reassured himself. Rory had made that clear on any number of occasions. There was nothing to fear, nothing to fight. “I’ll just…go get it.”
Avery could have invited Rory to the bedroom right then, but he wanted a few minutes to settle his nerves. And he couldn’t handle Rory watching his every move. If he was going to do this, he needed to take a leap of faith.
Pulling open the dresser drawer where he’d unpacked his jeans and boxers, he dug to the very bottom and withdrew a bit of skimpy black lace. He just held it for a moment, feeling the coarseness of the bumpy fabric, so at odds with the smooth slide of silk and yet so sensuous to the touch.
