“That’s probably not possible, but…”
“It is. Trust me.” She chuckled as she wiped at the corner of her eyes. “Maybe I can’t be one hundred percent impartial, but I can be honest and tell you that you did the right thing.”
“I did?”
“Blake seems like a smart man. I bet he’s trying to figure out how to make the stars align. If for some reason they don’t, it’s not because you aren’t worthy. Be sure you know that.”
I bit the inside of my cheek so hard it hurt, nodding mutely as my eyes welled. When she tugged at my hand, I slid to the floor like a child and let her hold me, sensing she needed it as much as I did.
Maybe letting go was the right choice, but it wasn’t the easy one. I didn’t know how to put pain in a neat and tidy box. I didn’t know how to protect myself from hurt. I wasn’t perfect. I was a wreck. But I’d be okay…eventually.
I hoped.
12
Blake
Part three—come out.
I read the script Saturday night and Sunday morning. I ignored my cell after bowing out of a night at the bars with Ezra and the boys to celebrate the championship win. I could tell Ez was frustrated with my “I have to prepare for finals” excuse, but I promised to clear my calendar next weekend. Actually, I had no idea what I said. I just didn’t want him to worry about me. Fuck, I was worried enough for both of us.
What I wanted required an effort I’d never put into anything in my life. The things I’d worked for came with tangible rewards…like a better-paying job and opportunities within my sport. I never in a million years would have landed my gig at Westgate if I hadn’t proved myself to be ambitious and hard-working. They hadn’t cared if I was honest. And I knew for a fact that if they knew the real me, they’d appreciate my discretion.
I’d stared into space, numb and unsure of my next move. That was when I remembered Ash’s binder. I read the affirmative stories he’d included as if I were going to be tested on them. One was written by an older man who came out to his grown kids, another was about teenage twins who came out to their parents. Dozens more filled the pages followed by wholesome suggestions, like bake a cake, make a video, write a blog post.
I’d dismissed those ideas a couple of months ago. I was sure I’d figure out a better way to state my truth. But I’d run out of time, and I had nothing to show for it.
Worse…I didn’t have Asher.
But he was right. I had to do this on my own. I didn’t want him to hide for me or lie for me. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t how a real relationship was supposed to work. If I wanted the real thing, I had to act.
The problem was…I couldn’t bake my parents a cake, and if I wrote a blog post or made a video, they’d call and I’d end up having to talk about it anyway.
I dialed home Sunday morning to rip the first bandage off. I got my parents on speakerphone and blurted, “Hey, I have something to tell you.”
They didn’t care. As in…they didn’t sound surprised. At all.
Dad said, “Okay,” and Mom chirped in with, “No wonder you were agitated about Katie.” The conversation quickly turned to yesterday’s win, and that was that.
But I was shaking when I hung up. That was…easy and not easy at the same time. Whatever. I had to do it again. So I scrolled a number I hadn’t called in months. Katie deserved the truth. I hadn’t been unfaithful, but I hadn’t been honest.
“Blake! Oh, wow. How are you? I hope you celebrated last night. That win was amazing,” she gushed.
“Thanks.” I let an uncomfortable silence grow. Then I cleared my throat and went for it. “Um, I don’t know how to do this, but—”
“Don’t say anything.”
“Katie…”
“No, no, no. I’m sorry. I was out of line. I got carried away with that kiss.” She gave an embarrassed laugh and sighed. “I was excited, but I was also…hopeful. That was my bad. You’ve been honest and—”
“Not really,” I intercepted.
“What do you mean?”
Here we go again.
“Katie, I’m bi,” I said in a rush. “I’ve been struggling with talking about it and…I don’t want to struggle anymore. I want to be out and I wanted you to know.”
Silence.
And more silence.
“Oh. That’s…I did not expect that.”
“Yeah, I know. Look, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to be your friend after we broke up. It was just that I didn’t know how to do that without lying about myself. Lying is fucking exhausting. And to be honest, I’d rather be living my best life, like Carly.”