Page 62 of Every Hidden Truth

“Silas.” His somber stare weighed on my shoulders, and I curled in on myself, guilty even if I didn’t know exactly what I was guilty of. “Son, I’ve never needed to worry about you being home on your own; I know I can trust you.”

My throat felt tight. Disappointing him was abundantly worse than pissing him off. I would rather he yelled at me than explain his misplaced trust.

“You’ve always had a good head on your shoulders and been mature for your age. I trust you to make decisions that are right for you.” He cleared his throat as the skin beneath his five o’clock shadow darkened. “Of course, I don’t enjoy walking in onmy sons, but, uh, as long as you’re being smart and safe, using protection—”

As the direction of his statement became clear, I physically recoiled, fresh humiliation smothering me. “Oh my God, Dad! We’re not sleeping together.”

He cocked a disbelieving eyebrow at me. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m aware of what I interrupted.”

Pinching the bridge of my nose, I accepted the horrifying circumstances with resignation. “Dad, we aren’t sleeping together likethat. And if we were, you’re off the hook anyway, because we totally had the sex talk already, and I’ve been through sex ed.”

“I’m not going to be one of those parents who sticks their head in the sand and believes their children aren’t sexually active.” I gagged at his choice of words, but he ignored me. “And I wasn’t walking in on you and your boyfriend when we first had the talk. You’re minutes away from being an adult, and you need to be prepared.”

“Please, stop.”

He ignored my pleas. “Trust me, this is just as awkward for me—”

“I really don’t think it is, though.”

“Besides,” he continued valiantly as I hid my face in my hands and prayed for death. “When you’re young and your emotions get involved, it’s difficult to keep a level head. But it’s important for you and your partner to always use a condom.”

“This is the worst moment of my life,” I moaned, praying for the apocalypse to hit. I waited hopefully for fire and brimstone to rain down from heaven. Nothing but soft snow fluttered past the window.

“Dad, for the love of God, please stop,” I interrupted his blushed stammering. “Listen, I’ve never had unprotected sex, and I don’t plan to, okay? Ben and I aren’t sleeping together, andif we ever do, I’m wrapping it up. Or he’s wrapping it up—we’re both wrapping it up!”

“Oh, sweet Lord.” Dad covered his face with his hand, and a pathetic squeaking sound escaped my throat.

My eyes bored holes into the kitchen floor as I gritted my teeth. “So, like, we’re all good. There’s no need to ever speak of this again. So, for the sake of my sanity, can we just pretend this didn’t happen?”

“Well, I suppose.” Neither of us raised our mortified stares from the floor. “Good, uh, good talk, son.”

“No! Not good talk. Terrible talk. Worst talk in the history of all talks ever!” My voice cracked like a prepubescent tween, and Dad met my horrified gaze, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline.

The embarrassment was too much, and a hysterical laugh bubbled up my throat and burst through my lips. Once it started, I couldn’t stop it. After a split second of astonishment, Dad joined me. He bent at the waist, hands on his knees, as I used the counter as a crutch, roaring with laughter.

As the uncomfortable atmosphere dissipated, we wiped humored tears from our eyes and straightened. “Oh, shit, worst birthday ever.” I snickered as the edges of Dad’s eyes crinkled.

“Don’t be dramatic. You think I never caught Will with one of his girls?” He rubbed his neck with a chuckle.

I covered my ears. “La, la, la, I don’t wanna know!”

“Like you never tried to cover for him.”

I shrugged sheepishly. “That’s what brothers do, right?”

Sighing, Dad scrubbed a hand through his thinning hair. “You always did team up against me.”

“We’re your children. It’s in the job description.” I grinned as the last of my blush faded, and he laughed, clapping my shoulder hard enough to rattle my bones.

“That it is, that it is.” With a glance at the ever-present watch on his wrist, a gift from my grandfather when my dad had turned eighteen, he squeezed my shoulder. “Well, would you look at that. Looks like congratulations is in order. Happy birthday, Silas.”

Sure enough, it was midnight, and I scuffed the linoleum as my smile stretched until my cheeks ached. “Thanks, Dad.”

“I have something for you, but I forgot it in the car. Hold on.” He lumbered from the room, and the front door opened and shut a minute later.

Hopping onto the counter, I checked my phone and warmth overflowed my veins and flooded my extremities as Ben’s name flashed on the screen.

Ben: Made it home.

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