Stone (Pittsburgh Titans 2)

I can actually see the tension and worry lift from Stone. His shoulders relax, his facial features smooth, and he smiles at me gratefully. “Thank you for that.”

“I’ll answer whatever questions you have,” I say as I pick up my fork.

He takes his in hand and shoots me a sly glance, eyes gleaming with mischief. “I did read about a wet T-shirt contest involving someone who I won’t name but who’s sitting in this room, and it’s not Odin.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “I plead the Fifth on that.”

“Pity,” he quips as he gives his attention to his food. “I’d like to hear more about it.”

And I’m not so sure I won’t tell him at some point.

But not tonight.

Tonight is about sharing a meal and becoming friends again.

CHAPTER 18

Stone

It’s been two weeks since what Harlow has termed “the Hepplewhite Scheme.” She teases me about it because she said the posters, my words, the Chinese food, and the flowers were enough.

I tease her back that I didn’t want to take any chances, and I had it on good authority it had to be a grand gesture.

She rolls her eyes and calls it a manipulation into forgiveness.

Thus dubbed… the Hepplewhite Scheme.

I’m currently sitting on my couch, in my living room, in my condo… waiting for Harlow to come get me. We’re trying out a new pho restaurant in our neighborhood, and she just got off work, so she asked for a few minutes to change clothes.

I look around my living room. Run my hand against the supple butterscotch leather of my couch.

Mine, mine, mine.

I’ve accepted that this is now my home and these are my things. Pittsburgh is now my city. The Titans are now my career.

Gage’s advice for me to seek connection has worked, and I feel more settled. Harlow has been a big part of it, and we’ve hung out a lot in between her work and mine.

I went to another AA meeting with her, and we’ve shared meals together. Sometimes we go out—she introduced me to Primanti’s, and my life has been changed—and sometimes she cooks.

Conversation is easy and originally was focused on Brooks. I learned so much from those journals, but they yielded questions too. Harlow has helped me understand more about my brother than I ever thought possible, and the more I’ve learned, the more I’ve castigated myself for not making a stronger effort to repair things with him. While my heart has healed in spades knowing how well he was doing, that he had good friends like Harlow looking out for him, I was still bothered by the things that were not good in his life.

I hated he couldn’t be his authentic self.

“Why didn’t Brooks tell me he was gay?” I asked Harlow the other night as we dined on her delicious home-cooked salmon and asparagus. I have a temporary truce with Odin—he essentially ignores me and I ignore him.

Harlow shrugged. “He was embarrassed.”

“That’s ridiculous. Brooks knew I didn’t have anything against homosexuality. We’d have conversations about it… you know, in general. There was that football player who’d come out about five years ago, and we talked about it then. He knew I would’ve supported him.”

“I think he was embarrassed that he didn’t have the strength to come out. That he didn’t want the scrutiny. I think he didn’t tell you not because he was embarrassed he was gay, but because he was embarrassed he didn’t have the confidence to be okay with it. He knew you’d want him to do it—to be his authentic self—but he wasn’t brave enough quite yet. He was trying to find the courage, though.”

“I’d have given anything to help him come out. I would have taken great joy in being the one to tell our father, followed by a very real threat of harm if he did anything to make Brooks feel bad about it.”

“You’re a good brother,” Harlow said, and that surprised me so much, I bobbled a bite of salmon and it fell to the floor. She didn’t notice it, but Odin did. He glanced at Harlow, then at me. I knew he wasn’t allowed table food, and he was obedient. He didn’t make a move, although he licked his lips and his eyes yearned for a taste.

While Harlow talked about Brooks, I gave a subtle nod toward the salmon, not expecting Odin to understand me.

But to my surprise, he dropped to his stomach and belly-crawled stealthily toward the food until he was close enough to gobble it down.

“I saw that,” Harlow chastised, her gaze pinned on me and not Odin.

I tried for my most innocent look. “Saw what?”

“Saw you give my dog permission to eat fallen food.”

“Your dog doesn’t even like me. Besides, I didn’t say a word.”

“You nodded,” she accused.

“Your dog is smart enough to understand that?” I threw back at her with a smirk.