Page 94 of The Prodigal Son

We said we would hide it, so that’s what we’ll do.

But things are different now, aren’t they? Because we’re not just hooking up anymore. We’ve established that this is the real thing. This could be…a forever thing. It feels wrong to hide it now. This relationship deserves better.

I watch as Jensen rushes to get dressed and I stare at him with doubts brewing in my mind. He said he loved me. Hemeantit. But was I filling in the blanks? Was I imagining that this could be a real relationship, even after he made it very clear that he could not, and would not, ever come out?

Does being in love make a difference?

What is wrong with me?

“What if we…don’t?” I ask.

“What?” He stands up and stares at me with confusion.

“You said it yourself last night. You said what if this doesn’t ruin my career? We have an opportunity to come out and just get it over with before someone else outs us first.”

His shoulders slump and he wets his lips as he readies his reply, although I know what he’s going to say already.

“I was talking about you, Isaac. Not me.”

“What’s the difference? Do itwithme,” I say, moving to my knees. “You said you would be here for everything, so be here, Jensen.”

He wants to shoot me down. I can see it in his eyes, but he doesn’t, not like that night at Luke’s house. He won’t run again. I know it.

“Let’s talk about it later, okay? Don’t make any rash decisions today. We’ll…figure something out.”

I swallow down the rising discomfort, and I remind myself that this is not his fault. It’s not his fault that someone conditioned him for so long to be so afraid of coming out. I was too, but not like that.

“Okay,” I reply.

We stare at each other for a moment before he quickly crosses the room toward me and pulls me into his arms. Holding me in a tight embrace, he whispers into my neck, “Everything is going to be okay.”

I don’t believe him, but I try.

Twenty-Eight

Jensen

Isaac and I leave the hotel room separately to avoid suspicion. I go first to check for fans or paparazzi in the lobby, but we’re safe. It’s mostly just the normal comings and goings of a downtown hotel.

Lingering outside, I wait for him. When he eventually emerges fifteen minutes later, he has on a ball cap and dark sunglasses, so he’s almost unrecognizable. It throws me that this is his life. This is what he has to do to have a private life, and it’s not fair.

The public’s attention is fickle. They will obsess over him for the moment before they move on to the next hot topic of interest. I just hope he can get through this phase before anyone leaks anything damning against him.

I know he wants to come out, but at the same time, he’s scared. I don’t want some momentary nuclear situation to force him into something that should take time and thought.

As Isaac and I ride over to the local office where he’s meeting with his tour manager, the voices in my head are louder thanever. Except it’s not just voices. It’s a familiar sentiment deep in my gut that’s spreading like a parasite. It’s a lot of things, but mostly shame.

I have to remind myself to keep breathing. He and I don’t speak on the drive. He keeps his head down and stares at his phone. I don’t have the guts to text anyone in the organization back home. I can’t text the publicity manager and ask what to do if my name has been leaked as a lover of a famous country singer. I can’t have this conversation with my colleagues. It’s unfathomable.

So my leg bounces as I stare out the window on the drive.

The office is down an old street in an old part of the city that’s been renovated. Various labels and companies have remodeled old brick houses into recording studios and galleries. Tall oak and magnolia trees line the street as our SUV pulls up to one of the brick buildings.

“Why don’t I get a ride to the airport?” I say quietly, with regret.

Isaac looks up at me with surprise. “You’re not supposed to go home until tomorrow.”

“I know, but…”

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