L. A. Witt - Rules 1 - Rules of Engagement (28 page)

He shrugged. “Not much different than before we were married.” “That bad, huh?”
He laughed, but it was forced. “Something like that.” The silence set my teeth on edge. Part of me wanted to just cut to

the chase and discuss what I knew we’d come to discuss. Part of me really didn’t want to talk about it.

 

“So how’s work going?” he asked.

I sighed and folded my hands on the table. At least that kept me from searching for my wedding band for the thousandth time. “Look, Rick, we both—”

“A
boyfriend
, Dustin?”
“I don’t know if I’d call him—”
He gestured sharply. “Whatever you want to call him. Just,

seriously. A guy?”
I sat back in my chair. “Yes. A guy.”
“But why?”

“Do you want the details, or do you just want me to say ‘it just happened’ so you can get into lecturing me about why I shouldn’t be with him?”

He glared at me and let out a breath. “Dustin, when I said I was surprised you hadn’t sworn off women, I didn’t actually mean it as a suggestion.”

“I was already seeing Brandon when you said that.”

 

He paused. “Guess that explains why you looked so surprised when I said it.”

“You could say that.”
“Even still, I was kidding.”

“And, when I say I’m seeing a man—” I shrugged. “I’m not kidding.”

 

He leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. “Dustin, I know things got ugly with Stephanie, but—”

“This has nothing to do with her.”
A skeptical eyebrow lift. “So you’ve been gay all this time?”

I rolled my eyes. “No. Brandon’s the first guy I’ve ever been attracted to.”

 

“And that little epiphany just coincidentally occurred six months after your marriage to the Wicked Witch of the West went south?” “Rick—”

 

“Look, Dustin, I just want to make sure you’re not getting involved in something like this—”

 

“You mean a relationship between two consenting adults who happen to be male?”

 

He glared at me. “I mean suddenly deciding you’re gay to keep from getting hurt like that again.”

 

“That’s not what this is.”

 

“Sure about that?”

I gritted my teeth. “What? Do you know something about me that I don’t?”
“I just know that every woman I’ve seen you date since Stephanie has been as different from her as you can get.”

I folded my arms across my chest. “So that couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the fact that I’m no longer interested in manipulative, controlling, cheating bitches?”

“That’s exactly my concern.”
“What? You think I
should
be with someone like her again?”

“Good God, no,” he said. “I’m concerned that you’re so hellbent on keeping yourself from getting hurt that you’re just looking for anything that isn’t Stephanie, regardless of how much
that
person could hurt you too.”

My stomach flipped. Wasn’t that what I had worried about from the very beginning? As much as I’d tried to convince myself that I wasn’t with Brandon to get as far from Stephanie as possible, how could I be sure?

“Listen, I’m sure he’s a good guy,” he said, probably hoping I didn’t catch the thinly veiled disgust and disapproval in his voice. “But have you really thought about this?”

“Honestly?”
“Yes.”

I swallowed. “I’ve thought about it a lot. I’ve asked myself the same thing.”

 

“And?”

“I think about it all the time,” I paused. “
Except
when I’m with him.”
He flinched, the slight wrinkling of his nose irritating me.

Rolling my eyes, I drummed my fingers on the table. “Just say it, Rick.”

 

“Say what?”

 

“Regardless of what happened with Stephanie, you can’t stand the idea of two men dating.”

His lips tightened into a grimace. “I just don’t want to see my brother get hurt again.”
“Funny, you didn’t seem so vocal about that over the last ten years.”

He dropped his eyes. “Would you have listened?”
“Do you expect me to listen to you now?”
“Dustin, I’m doing this—”
“Because you can’t stand the idea of your brother being gay.” “No, it’s not that.”

“Then why are you disapproving of him when you haven’t even met him? You met Stephanie and kept your mouth shut when I married her. When I could have seriously used a smack upside the head before I made the biggest mistake of my life.”

“Dustin, that—”

“You knew what she was like but didn’t lift a finger. But here you are, trying to talk me out of this for no other reason than the fact that Brandon’s a man.”

My brother cringed at the mention of Brandon’s name, as if knowing it forced him to accept his existence as a real person instead of “that guy.” Letting out a breath, he said, “You’re right. I should have done it then, and I’m doing it now.”

“Would you have said something if Stephanie had been a man?” He opened his mouth to speak but paused, looking away. “That’s what I thought.” I pushed my coffee cup away and started

to stand.
“Dustin, wait.”
I paused. “What?”

He gestured for me to sit. I hesitated, then did as he asked. He ran a hand through his hair and looked anywhere but at me. “Look, maybe I do have some preconceived notions about this, but you have to admit, it came out of left field.”

Resting my elbows on the table, I steepled my fingers, nodding. “Fair enough.”
“I mean, have you ever had any inkling of something like this before?”

“About being with a man?”
He nodded.
I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. “Never.” “Never even been curious?”
“Nope.”
“Not even during those communal showers in boot camp?” I laughed. “No.”
“So it doesn’t strike you as even remotely odd—”

I put my hand up. “I get it.” I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck and staring into my empty coffee cup. “And I’ve wondered about it myself, but….”

“But what?”

The knot sank even lower into the pit of my stomach. Wondering who I was trying to convince, I said, “But I don’t think this has anything to do with Stephanie.”

“Or Mom?”
“What?”

“Come on, between Mom and Stephanie, women have made your life hell, especially for the last ten years. I’m not saying every guy who figures out he’s gay later in life is doing it because he’s surrounded by harpies, but….” He shrugged. “The fact is, you
were
surrounded by harpies, and now you’re suddenly attracted to men?”

I chewed my thumbnail, avoiding his eyes. I understood where he was coming from, but he didn’t know Brandon. He didn’t get it. This was different.

Wasn’t it?

 

“Dustin, talk to me. I just want to make sure you’re not setting yourself up to get hurt again.”

I exhaled. “Fuck.”
“Just give it some thought.”
“I have. Believe me.”

Neither of us spoke for a few minutes. Then he said, “So how much has Mom been on your back about it?”

I laughed bitterly. “Remember how she flipped out when she thought you knocked that girl up in high school?”
He grimaced, then laughed. “Wasn’t that the time Dad almost brought in an exorcist to calm her down?”

“Yep. That was
nothing
compared to this.”
“Ouch.”
“Tell me about it.”

For the rest of lunch, we tried to talk about anything but my relationship with Brandon, though the tension still lingered. It was like trying to ignore someone who was sitting right there with us: not speaking about them, but eyes and conversation occasionally darting in their direction before quickly returning to the safety of mundane topics.

Eventually, Rick had to leave to meet Lisa elsewhere in town, so that was as good an excuse as any to leave. We paid, walked out to the parking lot, and exchange goodbyes, pretending everything was fine.

I watched him pull out of the parking lot as I got into my own car. Once he was gone, I closed my eyes and let my head fall against the headrest. Tapping my thumbs on the steering wheel, I relived our conversation over and over again.

For as much as I’d tried to convince him that my relationship with Brandon had nothing to do with Stephanie, I couldn’t deny that the conversation had chipped away at my own confidence about that very thing. I thought I had pushed the doubts out of my mind, but now, I wasn’t so sure.

Whatever I felt for Brandon—sexually or otherwise—was intense. It was incredible. Still, I couldn’t escape that nagging worry that what attracted me was not who he was, but who he wasn’t.
T
HE
knot in my gut refused to loosen even hours after my conversation with Rick. All the doubts I’d had in the beginning resurfaced.
Was
I just trying to avoid dating someone like Stephanie?
Was
this just a phase, a fluke?

Brandon was on his way over when my phone rang for the seventy millionth time in the last forty-eight hours. I groaned and looked a the caller ID. I didn’t recognize the number, but the area code was familiar.

“Hello?” I said, reclining on the couch with a hand over my eyes. “Dustin, it’s your Uncle Bill.”

I blew out a breath, not sure if I was happy to hear from him or not. We’d always had a good relationship, but it dawned on me that I never knew how he felt about homosexuality. “Hey Bill. How’s it going?”

“Not bad here.” He paused. “But I understand things with you have been….” He paused. “Interesting.”

“You could say that.”
“Look, kid, I’m gonna cut to the chase,” he said. “Are you gay?”

I rubbed my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. “I’m seeing another man, if that’s what you want to know.”

 

“Well, that half answers my question,” he said. “I asked if you’re gay.”

“I—” A knock at the door interrupted my thought. “Hold on, Bill.” I covered the phone with my hand as I sat up. “It’s open.” Brandon came in, and I gestured with one finger to give me a minute. He nodded, smiled at me, and joined me on the couch.

“You still there, kid?” Bill asked.

“Yeah, yeah, I’m here, sorry, someone came to the door,” I said, quickly covering the phone again as Brandon kissed me. To Bill, I said, “Yeah, I guess I am. Or bisexual. Or something. But yes, I am seeing a man.”

“I see.”

I still couldn’t tell if there was disapproval in his voice, or if he were simply trying to process what he’d learned.
He cleared his throat. “Oh. Well, listen, is this whole thing with your, um, your guy, is he going to be around for a while?”

I let out a breath. “It’s not that big of a deal, Bill. It’s nothing. It’s just a….” Brandon shifted beside me. I pursed my lips, then said, “It’s just, you know, nothing serious.”

“You might’ve wanted to keep that cat in the bag, then,” he said. “Your mother is about to have heart failure. She called me at damn near three in the morning to tell me about it.”

“I know, she’s flipping out about it,” I said. “She thinks the whole thing is the end of the world.”
“Everything is the end of the world to her.”

“No shit.”

 

“So it’s not serious? You’re not going to be dragging us all to Canada for a wedding?”

I laughed, but there wasn’t a lot of humor behind it. “It’s not serious, Bill. It’s nothing.” Brandon fidgeted next to me. I put my hand on his knee and gave him a quick smile. He returned it but didn’t seem to feel it.

“Well,” Bill said, “don’t expect your mother to calm down about it anytime soon, but you’re no idiot, so I have faith that you know what you’re doing.”

Wish I felt the same
. “Thanks.” We wrapped up the call with small talk, and I hung up. “Sorry about that,” I said to Brandon. “Still getting calls from everyone in my mother’s grapevine.”

He nodded, but his mood seemed darker than when he arrived. “It’ll probably go on like that for a while.” The change in his demeanor unnerved me, but maybe I just hadn’t paid close enough attention when he came through the door.

“I could go for a beer,” I said. “Want one?”

 

“Sure.”

We went into the kitchen and I pulled two bottles out of the refrigerator. For a long moment, we drank in silence. Brandon’s eyes focused anywhere but on me, his expression neutral except for the subtle furrow between his eyebrows.

I couldn’t stand the silence anymore. “What’s wrong?” He shook his head, sipping his beer. “Nothing.”

“I could be wrong….” I tapped my own beer against the counter. “But that sounded an awful lot like the ‘nothing’ that women use to mean ‘something’s wrong’.”

He laughed, but there wasn’t a lot of humor in it. “You’re getting good at this.”

I couldn’t even fake amusement. “What’s wrong, Brandon?” Sighing, he looked at the floor between us. “Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush,” he said. With what seemed like a great deal of effort, he met my eyes. “Is this relationship, you know, is this something you want?”

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. I quickly took a sip of beer. “Of course. Why wouldn’t it be?”

He shrugged, running his thumb up and down the neck of his beer bottle and avoiding my eyes again. This kind of nervousness was alarmingly out of character for him. “I just, if you want some space—”

“Brandon, what are you talking about?” I set my beer down and crossed the kitchen to him, putting my hand on his hip. “That’s the last thing I want.”

He looked at me, searching my eyes.

“What brought this on?” I asked. “I think I’m missing something.”
Taking a breath, he said, “When I came in tonight, you were on the phone, and you told the person that this was nothing.”

My lips parted. “Brandon, that didn’t mean anything.”

An eyebrow lifted. “Which is more or less what you told
them
about
us
.”
I touched his arm. “I didn’t mean that, I swear.”
He looked at me quietly for a moment, then said, “Okay.” He didn’t seem convinced.
“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he said with a smile that was even less convincing than his resigned tone. He sipped his beer. “How did things go with your brother?”

I hesitated. He obviously wasn’t satisfied that things were resolved, and I didn’t want to let the subject drop, but I followed his lead. “Okay, I guess.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

I shrugged. “He’s just concerned that this is all because of my ex, that I’m attracted to you because you’re not her.”
“Are you?”

“Brandon, we’ve talked about this.”
“I know. And I want you to say it again.”