The Air That I Breathe (The Game 3.5)

Damn.

The other two looked like they’d been gift-wrapped in store by clerks.

I focused on my breakfast for a moment and groaned as the taste of cheese, egg, and sausage melted in my mouth. “Have I mentioned how much I love your cookin’?”

“A few times,” he chuckled. “If it were up to me, I’d prepare every damn meal.”

I laughed and took a swig of my cocoa. “Harsh. You don’t even trust Nana?”

She cooked like an angel and had shown us that the true essence of family came from the dinner table. At seven every evening, we had supper at home.

“No, she’s good,” Reese conceded. “But as soon as we move to our own place, I’ll do the cooking, and you can do laundry.”

I was very okay with that. I’d even clean. I was tidier than him.

“Deal,” I said, cramming the last of my sandwich into my mouth. “I want my gifftth now.”

He shook his head in amusement and fake disgust. “Fuckin’ heathen. Swallow before you talk.”

I chewed, then swallowed. “What if I wanna gargle first?”

He barked out a laugh and reached for the stack of gifts. “Open the envelope last.”

I already knew what the envelope was. Every Christmas, he gave me a gift card to Bass Pro Shops. It came in handy for when we went fishing in the summer, and it happened to be one of my favorite gifts.

I went with the shoebox-sized gift he’d brought from home first, and I ripped off the paper. It actually was an old shoebox. I lifted the lid and dug out a bunch of silk paper, and then I grinned widely. It was a new wallet. Black leather. He must’ve noticed that my old one was coming apart. I opened it just to check the pockets, and apparently there was more.

“Dude, this—damn.” I chuckled as I flipped through the cards. Six in total, all five-dollar gift cards from fast-food joints. Wendy’s—I fucking loved Wendy’s. There were two of them. “Thank you, brother. You really don’t want me to go hungry.”

“What gave you that idea?” He smirked and picked up the next one.

It was a flat box with red wrapping and a bow that looked nothing like the cheap ones I’d bought at Walmart.

But wait—huh? It was a gift card. I grabbed it from the box and scratched my head. Twenty-five bucks to Bass Pro Shops.

“I was so sure…”

“Glad I can still surprise you,” he replied smugly. “Go on, I know you love it. Check the last one.”

Why the hurry?

But I was as curious as he was impatient, so I went for the envelope that I’d thought would have the gift card, and I tore off the silvery wrapping.

I furrowed my brow and plucked two tickets from the envelope. “What’s…” I mean, I knew what they were. Our plane tickets home. He’d changed the date. He’d changed our tickets. Shit, we were flying home tomorrow.

“The gift is the upgrade,” he said.

Yeah, I’ll say. Christ. He’d upgraded us to business.

But why…

I looked to him, confused.

His humor from before faded, and he cleared his throat. There was some vulnerability in his eyes that I didn’t miss either. “I wanna go home too, Riv,” he murmured. “I’m done here. I’m done pretending Pop’s gonna come around. I’m done acting like we don’t know that we lost him the day we came out. I’m sick of the awkward dinners. I’m tired of maintaining some fucked-up charade just for the sake of it. And let’s be honest, he’s done too.”

I nodded. And obviously, I agreed with him. I’d been thinking the same for years.

Maybe it was because Reese and I had each other that we’d never felt ashamed of being gay. Between the two of us, it’d always been there, and Ma had picked up on it. By the time we were twelve, Pop knew too, but it took him a couple years to acknowledge that it wasn’t some “dumb idea kids got into their heads sometimes.”

“Then we go home tomorrow,” I replied firmly. “No more games. We stick to people who care for real.”

We’d always have two layers, so to speak. One layer that we wouldn’t share with anyone anytime soon—and definitely not with Nana or our friends. But it was time to weed out the ones who couldn’t even accept our sexuality and the fact that Reese and I would always be a package deal.

“That’s all I want.” He leaned in and kissed me, and I cupped his cheek before he could pull away.

“I love you,” I told him.

The next smile reached his eyes. “Love you too. My turn to open gifts.”

“I don’t think they’ll top the ones you gave me,” I chuckled uncomfortably.

“They already did,” he responded. “All this…” He gestured to the tree and the fire and the decorations. “I love that you did this for me.”