Strong Enough

Gage nearly choked on his beer. “Are you kidding me? How am I so dense?”

“Don’t feel bad. I worked really hard not to let it show. I worked really hard not to feel it at all.”

“Did you?” He looked at me sympathetically. “That’s got to be hard.”

“Yeah.” I shook my head. “But it didn’t work. I still feel it.”

“Does he?”

“He did a couple weeks ago. But I fucked it up.”

“How?”

“I told him we had to stay a secret. It hurt him.”

“I get it. That would hurt.”

It felt like he punched me. “Yeah. But I wasn’t ready to accept it yet—the fact that I wanted to be with a guy.”

Gage thought for a moment, took another drink. “Have you always felt like that? Attracted to guys?”

The back of my neck got hot. “Sort of. From the time I was young, I had the occasional feeling for someone. But I was always able to ignore it.”

His expression turned guilty. “I feel kind of bad that I never knew or guessed this about you. We’ve been best friends forever.”

“Don’t feel bad. I did everything I could to hide it. And I liked girls too. It wasn’t really that big of an issue.”

“I was just going to ask that. If you’d been faking it with women.”

“Not necessarily. But it’s been a really long time since I’ve had good chemistry with a woman. And I’ve never had chemistry with anyone like I do with Maxim.”

“Wow. So what now?”

I took a deep breath. “Now I try to figure out where to go from here, I guess. How to be honest about my feelings. How to accept this about myself. How to convince Maxim to give me another chance.”

“Tell me what to do to help you,” he said seriously, setting his beer bottle down. “Lanie and I will do everything we can.”

“Can I bring a guest to the birthday party Sunday?”

He grinned. “Absolutely.”

I was tempted to go right from there to The Blind Pig, but I didn’t want to say what I had to say to Maxim in public. I texted my sister.

Need to talk. Can you meet me for breakfast tomorrow?

She replied within ten minutes. Sure!

We set the time and place, and I drove home, feeling hopeful for the first time in weeks. I’d done it—I’d told the truth about myself to someone, and he’d been supportive.

I could breathe.

“So what’s up?” Ellen pulled her hair into a ponytail, then picked up her coffee cup.

My stomach was jittery. Telling Gage had felt easier, for some reason. I opened my mouth to speak, closed it, took a sip of coffee, fussed with my napkin in my lap. “I have to tell you something, but it’s difficult to say.”

“Let me help. You and Maxim.”

I stared at her. “Yeah. How’d you know?”