Page 70 of In Step

“Don’t you fucking dare,” I warned, getting up in his face. “I have almost twenty years on your arse. I don’t answer to you, and I never will. And those twenty years have taught me a few things, first and foremost being that peoplecanchange.I’vechanged.You’vechanged. You’re not the mouthy little shit you were the first time I choreographed a piece for your company—the aspiring principal who thought he knew everything and would argue black was white just to hear the sound of his own voice.”

Judah’s mouth quirked at the corner. “I wasn’t that bad.”

“You fucking were. But once I heard your story, I understood. You needed that arrogance and unshakeable self-belief to get you where you were, to fuel that fight for the top. Which brings me to the second thing my advanced years have taught me—there are reasons why people do what they do. It doesn’t excuse appalling behaviour like what happened to you, not that Kane’s ever asked for that, right?”

A flush spread up Judah’s neck. “That means nothing.”

I huffed. “Doesn’t it? Are you sure about that? Believe me, I get why you feel like you do. It was a shitty thing to live through. And if you want to hold on to your righteous anger, you’re absolutely entitled to do that, because you are right, I wasn’t there.”

“Damn right.” Judah’s eyes filled and I wanted to just fucking hug him, but I had things to say first.

“But the Kane I met, the Kane I’ve come to know and really like, is so far removed from that teenage boy you describe, I can barely get my head around it. You must’ve seen that. You’re too perceptive not to. But I know you’ve never talked to him about it, never once asked him. Trust me when I say that Kane has been nothing but brutally honest about what happened and his shame about it.”

Judah snorted. “Shame? It’s a pity he didn’t feel any of that at the time. Those arseholes made my teenage years a fucking nightmare. I spent every day looking over my shoulder, wondering where the next taunt, shove, or slur was going to come from. You have no idea.”

“But I do. I didn’t get it as bad as you, but I grew up a gay dancer too, remember?” I reminded him. “And here’s a question for you. Was Kane part ofallthat happened?”

Judah faltered and I could tell he wanted to lie, to put me in my place. To his credit, he didn’t. “No, not much of it, to be honest. He was mostly on the sidelines until that day. But he waswiththem, watching, listening, doing nothing to stop it.”

“Was he? Was hereally withthem?”

Judah chewed his lip and his gaze danced away. “Well, he was there. He knew what they did.” He gave a broken sigh. “All the kids knew. It wasn’t a big school. Making fun of the gay kid kept the bullies off everyone else’s back.”

“What happened after that day he kicked you?”

Judah scowled. “I know what you’re doing. But the fact Kane backed off after that doesn’t excuse what he did. I pissed blood for a week, Abe.”

“Of course, it doesn’t excuse it.” I gave a frustrated sigh. The man was stubborn as hell. “But from what I’ve heard, he hasn’t once tried to shift responsibility from himself, either.”

Judah said nothing. These were his demons, and I had no right to tell him how to feel. He had to decide that for himself.

But I could give him a nudge. “Has it ever occurred to you what it must’ve taken for him to come here like he did, living in his car, desperate for work but knowing how you and Leroy felt about him and what he’d done? Cap in hand to the last person and place he’d want to be—the humiliation of that? And yet he’s done his job and done it well, from what Leroy says. He’s quiet, trustworthy, goes the extra mile, keeps to himself. But you’ve made sure to remind him every day of what he did—keeping him on the fringes, always looking in from the outside, never really part of the group. Keeping him exactly whereyouwere for all those years.”

“Fuck off.” Judah’s eyes flashed with anger. “You don’t know me as well as you think.”

“Maybe not, and I’m done here anyway. But you better find a way to explain to Leroy why his employee is leaving.” I sat on the bench and pulled on my socks and shoes.

Judah hovered in front of me. “You think he’s really going to leave?”

I looked up at him. “What do you think? Would you stay? And I’ll tell you something. I’m gonna miss him.”

Judah’s gaze narrowed. “So, he really is gay?”

I rolled my eyes. “No, I’m fooling around with a straight guy. Really, Judah? If you want to know, talk to Kane. And while we’re on it, you know damn well why we kept things quiet. Because based on tonight, why the fuck would Kaneeverrisk coming out to you? Yes, he was going to tell Leroy, and how fucking brave is that? But you? Jesus, I doubt evenI’dhave had the courage to do that. And between two gay men, that’s just plain fucking sad.”

I snatched my jacket from the bench and headed for the door, jolting at the sight of Morgan leaning on the wall by the coat rack. He nodded sadly as I passed, patting me on the shoulder, which told me all I needed to know about just how much he’d heard.

Pretty much all of it.

The wind caught the door as I left, slamming it shut, and I headed up the hill, wondering if my friendship with Judah was strong enough to survive this or if I’d even have a job tomorrow, unpaid or not.

And as I walked, I pulled out my phone and sent a text to Kane.Please don’t decide anything until we talk. I don’t regret a thing.

I didn’t get a reply.

CHAPTERNINETEEN

Kane

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