“Oh, that.” Dunn waved a hand negligently. “Jenn’s getting antsy again. You know how she can be. ‘When are we gonna get serious, Dunn? You gotta fish or cut bait.’” His face twisted up, and I knew it was because he hated that expression with a passion. “She went out on a couple dates with Kevin Barker—Monster from the Devoted Dogs?—and it didn’t work out, so now she’s telling her friends it was just so I’d get jealous and wanna commit, when anyone who knows me knows I’ve never been jealous over a woman a day in my life, and the only person I’m committed to is you.” He grinned. “Buuuut my mom caught wind of it, so I had to sit through one of those ‘Dunn Johnson, I love you, but you drive me crazy’ speeches of hers—”
I felt a sudden, painful kinship with Cindy Ann Johnson.
“—where she talked about the beauty of partnership and respect, and opening my eyes to what was right in front of me before it all passed me by, and blah blah, which I could only assume was her way of saying she wanted me to lock Jenn down.” He shrugged. “I hate to disappoint her, but in the end I told her I wasn’t ready to make any commitments, and if Jenn wanted to find someone who’d offer her that, I understood.” His green eyes clouded over with genuine worry. “But I don’t get what’s so wrong with keeping things just as they are. I’m not hurting anyone, am I, Tuck?”
I rolled my lips together. Was he?
The deep ache in my chest suggested yes.
But I felt pretty confident answering this one for me and for Jenn. Life hurt. Circumstances hurt. Silly, senseless hearts that insisted on hoping for things hurt. People who rejected you because of who you were, like I’d seen with some of the LGBTQ folks I volunteered with, hurt. People who didn’t love you back the way you wished they did hurt.
None of that was Dunn’s fault.
“No. As long as you’re being honest with yourself and everyone involved, you’re good.” I forced myself to smile and add lightly, “But hear me now, Dunn Johnson: there is no way on this earth I’m letting you find me a date, you understand?”
That would be beyond humiliating.
It wasn’t Dunn’s fault he couldn’t love me the way I wanted him to. I needed to accept that we’d never be anything more than friends, because allowing myself to think otherwise was a recipe for disaster.
And for my own sanity, it was time I learned to draw some healthy boundaries between us.
How hard could it be?
2
Dunn
13-Down: A person who is not very bright (4 letters)
“Now hear me out,” I said to my brother, who I could tell was giving me some serious side-eye. I couldn’t blame him. This situation of me trying to find Tuck a man had been going on for months now.
“This sounds like the setup of a plucky sitcom from the eighties. Except gay,” Brooks said before tossing his line in the water with a soft plunk.
I reached over and grabbed my insulated coffee mug before leaning back in my chair. The weather was warming up on a particularly sunny March day, and I was happy to see the first signs of spring. Daffodils sprouted up here and there under the trees at the edges of the lake, and the warm light of sunrise glowed on the water. It was a gorgeous morning that would have been downright perfect if not for Tucker’s last-minute cancellation on account of his moody ass being pissed at me.
“I made a list, and did you know there are twenty-six eligible gay or bisexual bachelors in the Licking Thicket area?” I pondered the number, trying to decide why it sounded so large all of a sudden. “Here and I thought you were the only one.”
“Obviously not,” he said in a dry voice. “Seeing as how I live with one, had lunch with two others only yesterday, and—”
I held up a hand to shut him up. “Fine. That’s not what I meant, and you know it. I only meant, growing up it seemed like nobody was gay, and now it seems like everyone is. Not that I have a problem with it, because I don’t. I hope you know that.”
Brooks rolled his eyes out at the water. “I know. Your best friend is gay, your brother is gay. Your soon-to-be brother-in-law is gay too, and you agreed to be my best man at the wedding. I’m pretty sure I already know you’re okay with gay dudes.”
“Have I thanked you again recently for asking me?” I hadn’t been expecting that honor when I knew Brooks had a lot of friends who would have stepped up to the plate instead.
Brooks’s eyes went soft for a second. “Of course, Dunn. You’re my brother and I love you. Now, get back to whatever ridiculousness you were spouting. And, can I just say, how Tucker Wright still puts up with your dumb ass after all this time is beyond me.”
I sighed. Sometimes I wondered that too. “It’s just that I’ve already ripped through eight of them trying to find Tucker’s soul mate, and I can’t make this dog hunt. What am I doing wrong?”
Brooks looked straight up to the sky as if to ask the clouds for help in dealing with his doofus of a brother. It was a sky-daddy plea I was very familiar with.
“Dunn, has it ever occurred to you that the only thing Tucker has in common with Hubbard Weaver is the fact they both like dick?”
“Don’t be crass!” I snapped. Nobody needed to be talking about Tucker’s man parts, especially in my presence. Besides, our mama taught us better than that.
“You’re going about this all wrong,” Brooks suggested.
I leaned forward when I felt a tug on the line. “I don’t think so. It’s just that apparently leading the horse to water does not, in fact, result in a hydrated equine. And, as I have a particular affinity for and talent with animal husbandry—”
“You’re a dairy farmer,” Brooks added in a tone that might as well have said “shit shoveler” which was, I guess, technically true.
“Like I said,” I continued, “I should be able to noodle this situation to a mutually beneficial result. I know how to manage stubborn beasts. It’s a matter of taking charge and showing them who’s the boss.”
“Now we’re back to the eighties sitcoms again,” Brooks muttered under his breath.
I finally reeled in my line to discover I’d hooked a small decrepit twig instead of the trout I’d been hoping for. “Motherfucker,” I said with a sigh, tossing the twig into the woods behind us. “Nothing’s fucking biting today.”
“Well, now I know you’re frustrated. You usually don’t bandy about the f-word with quite such abandon. What’s really bothering you about this situation with Tucker? Why do you care so much?”
He lifted that ridiculously judgy Brooks eyebrow at me. The one that said he already knew the answer but was asking “for the sake of argument.” I hated that shit.
“He’s my best friend. I want him to be happy. Duh.”
“And you don’t trust him to find his own happiness, why?”
I baited my line and cast again before sitting back. “He’s shit at it. There, I said it. The man doesn’t know how to find himself a love… love… lover to save his life.” The word felt icky on my tongue, like I’d accidentally licked a dirty cattle brush. The idea of Tucker with another man always made me feel low-key nauseated. At first, I’d thought maybe I was homophobic, but then I’d rationalized it away. Naw, I just wanted my guy to have the best. He deserved it more than anyone I knew.