Gunner stalled with his mouth full. This couldn’t be how they worked out he was an impostor, could it? But Fake Dad went on.
“We’re happy to have you back, and I’m sure it will take you a few days to settle in, but consider looking at the courses we talked about. They’re the sensible next step now that you have your degree, and you’ll be able to do them while gaining experience at the firm.”
Oh, so this wasn’t a normal breakfast after all.
Gunner swallowed and was more careful with the next bit he cut, because Caspian surely didn’t gorge on food like a pig. “I’d have to consider how much they cost first,” he uttered, but Fake Mom gave a little chuckle and dug into a pancake of her own on the other side of the counter.
“Nonsense, honey. You know we’ll help you. You need to keep studying if you want to be successful in the future.”
Which in this case clearly meant they’d pay for the course. Caspian had been born into a golden cradle! The proposition was overwhelming, and while this wasn’t his life, and those nice people weren’t his parents, he offered them a smile and continued eating dainty pieces of the dessert-breakfast as his mind entertained what his life could have been if he hadn’t been born to Leo Russo of the Rabid Hogs MC and a woman who disappeared from their lives so early Gunner had no recollection of her.
“Of course. I met some of my high school friends at the gym, but today might be the day to read up on the courses.” He had no idea what degree Caspian had, but there would be clues to find in his bedroom.
Fake Mom groaned, taking off her apron. “Why would you waste time going to that dirty place when we have machines at home?”
“Or is there some high school sweetheart you left behind, hm?” Fake Dad tapped Gunner with his elbow. “We wouldn’t be offended if you brought her here. You’re an adult now. Just make sure you give us notice—”
Fake Mom shook her head. “Only if it’s serious.”
Gunner felt the food rise in his throat from a surge of anxiety. Oh. So Caspian wasn’t out. Come to think of it, Caspian might be straight. Nobody had seen him with a guy, and all the rumors started because he was so small, pretty, and quiet. Gunner’s dirty mind did the rest, creating a guy who might have very little in common with the real Caspian Brady.
“N-no, there’s no girl,” he muttered, realizing in frustration that after eating only three pancakes he was so full even the caramel sauce had lost its appeal.
“Better to wait than date the first girl that comes along,” Fake Mom said and reached across the counter to pat Gunner’s cheek. Maybe he should’ve been offended by the gesture, but it felt nice to be in someone’s care for once, so he smiled back at her and put down his cutlery, so very sated he feared walking might be an issue.
“There’s a perfect person for everyone,” Fake Dad said and gave his wife a kiss on the cheek.
Gunner rarely met couples who actually got along, and his disastrous on-off relationship with Sandy was just the tip of the iceberg. He hadn’t noticed when she’d moved in, and didn’t know how to get rid of her, because when he got drunk enough, her blowjobs did take the edge off. She was a glimpse of possibility that he might be bisexual not gay.
Caspian’s family would probably accept him as a gay man, even if it created a bump in their dynamic. Could Gunner hijack this life and start over? His existence would have been as full of joy as his plate had been of carbs.
Fake Dad walked out first, but Fake Mom wasn’t far behind and grabbed a pair of nude high heels on the way. “Remember to get your car washed, and practice the piano. Usus est magister optimus.”
Gunner nodded slowly, even though he had no idea what language she’d just used, let alone what the expression meant.
“Have a good day, Cas. Put the dishes into the washer, will you?” Fake Dad asked, and moments later Gunner was alone in the huge, beautiful house, staring at a stack of pancakes this new body couldn’t fit in.
The silence was disturbed by a bird trilling outside, but it was oh-so-quiet otherwise. No children shouting. No arguments. The cooking enthusiast from the trailer on the left of his wasn’t here to disturb his peace with her hand mixer, and Mad Madge wasn’t playing her TV too loudly.
Even the constant whizz of the highway was gone.
For once, Gunner was alone with his thoughts.
He knew it would have been best to clean up first, but his stomach might rumble in an hour, so he left everything on the counter, picked up the cooling mug of coffee and headed to the closed door on the side of the kitchen.