Brad rolled his eyes. “Fuck off. Don’t make it sound like that. It wasn’t some big plot against our oldest brother. You don’t want to be here, just like Will didn’t want to be here. So if you want to take a break, or whatever, you can. We can handle it. That’s all we’re saying. If you decide you want to come back, there’s always a place for you.”
It felt like they’d injected ice into my veins, but at the same time, a soft voice in the back of my head whispered, Finally. Not that I didn’t like construction. I enjoyed working with my hands and building things, but working here, working with them in the company my father built, felt like I was living my life as the Jonathan he’d wanted me to be. Like he’d worked his magic, had constructed the perfect son in his image, exactly the way he’d wanted me, and I was still doing that, being that, even after he was gone.
That was always when the guilt tackled me because he was my dad and I’d loved him and I knew he’d loved me too.
For some reason, that only made me angrier. “So what, both Will and I like dick, so we’re not ‘man enough’ to work construction anymore?”
Nolan shoved out of the back of the truck and to the ground. “Fuck you, Jonathan. We didn’t say that shit. You did.”
“You didn’t have to say it. I can’t believe you guys went behind my back, talking about me and the company Dad wanted me to run.”
“That’s so like you—throwing it in our faces that you were always Dad’s favorite. Do you think you still would be?” Brad sneered.
My whole body went hot, my hands tightened into fists, and I saw red.
“Hey. Cut that shit out. Both of you,” Nolan said, but it was hard to process through the buzzing in my ears.
“Fuck. You.” I turned and climbed into the driver’s seat of my truck.
“Shit. I didn’t mean that,” Brad said.
“Just get in the truck.”
They stalled for a minute, then both did as I said. We drove back to the office in silence. As soon as I pulled in, Brad said, “It’s just…different now, ya know?”
Because I was gay.
“We’re not trying to get rid of you,” Nolan added. “We just thought…you don’t seem happy.”
And I wasn’t. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever been happy. I’d talked with my therapist about that a lot, but then stopped going. The truth was, I wanted to try something new. I wanted out. I wanted to work through who the fuck I was…and maybe I’d decide this was it. Maybe I’d realize I did love running Carson Construction, working with two of my brothers, and doing that as an out gay man. I’d just never had any options before, never considered anything else. “I’m not…happy, and I don’t know what I want,” I admitted.
“We’re, um…not going anywhere, ya know? Maybe you should figure your shit out.” Brad didn’t look at me. Neither of them did. It was as if two words—I’m gay—had built a wall between us. I didn’t know how to tear it down or what would remain of my old life when I did.
CHAPTER TWO
Danny
“I don’t wanna get my blood drawn.” The little boy buried his face into the pillow on his hospital bed.
“I know you don’t, sweetie, but you have to.” His mom brushed his hair back from his forehead as he peeked out, his blue eyes wide, then nuzzled in again.
“Can I tell you a secret, Stanley?” I asked softly. “It’s a really embarrassing secret, so you can’t tell anyone.”
This piqued his interest, making him look up at me and nod.
“I used to be really scared to get my blood drawn when I was a kid. I actually fainted one time. Another one, I knew we had to go to the doctor, and I hid in my closet so we were late for our appointment. My mom was super mad at me, and I got grounded for two whole weeks.” All true. I had a lot of fears when I was younger, and needles were one of them. It was something I’d hidden well from kids at school. I’d worked hard to conquer them before heading into high school because, well, high school. I’d gone into it expecting to make them the best four years of my life until that point, and I’d done that. I was nothing if not determined.
“Boys aren’t scared of stuff like needles,” he countered.
“Boys can be afraid of anything. There are no rules on how to be a boy. I’m one, and believe me, I’m scared of a lot of things. When I was your age, blood draws were on that list.”
He looked up at his mom as if waiting for confirmation. She nodded.
“But Daddy said boys aren’t supposed to cry,” he said, making my blood boil. Shit like that really pissed me off. I hated it when people decided what or who someone was supposed to be and made others feel bad for who they were, for things like having feelings or being afraid. For simply being human.
“I’m a boy and I cry,” I said, hoping Stanley’s mom didn’t get upset with me, but it was more important for me that he knew it was okay to be scared.
“Boys can cry, sweetheart,” she told him and kissed his forehead, then turned to me and gave me a sad smile.
“So…” I said, “back to my secret. I was super afraid, and that’s okay—”
“Wait,” he interrupted. “Why do you do this if you hate needles?”
“Because I knew it would make me better at my job because I know what it feels like. I knew I wanted to be really good so I could make it as quick and easy as possible, since I know it sucks being on the other side of it. I’ve even worked hard to learn some tricks along the way. My coworkers always send me to the rooms of patients who are afraid because I’m the best around.” I grinned, and Stanley did too. “I have a feeling you’re gonna be the best patient as well. I’ll work my magic on you real quick, and hopefully, you won’t feel a thing. If you do, then I’ll have to work on perfecting my process even more, but I’ll do that if you ask. You just have to tell me. It would really help me out to know if my trick is working. Do we have a deal?”
Stanley looked at his mom, then back at me and to his mom again before saying, “I’m gonna help him out, I think. I wanna make sure his trick works.”
“I think that’s a good idea, sweetie,” she replied.
“Seriously, you’re amazing. Such a lifesaver.”
Now the pressure was on for this to basically be the greatest blood draw in the history of the world.
I confirmed Stanley’s name and date of birth, then began going through the process of putting on my gloves, opening a new needle, applying the tourniquet, and cleaning the area on his arm. As I worked, I talked to him, asked him questions—what his favorite candy was and if he could be any superhero, who would he be. He faced his mom, away from the needle.
“All done!”
He looked at me with wide eyes. “I didn’t even feel it!”
“See? I told you I had tricks. But remember, even if you had and if it hurt and you shed some tears, it would have been okay. I still cry sometimes.”
“With getting your blood drawn?”
“No, with other things. Sometimes my bestie and I, we’ll be in a certain mood, and we watch movies we know will make us cry because it’s a good way to let out emotions.” Again that was true. It wasn’t often Elijah and I got in those moods, but we did from time to time.