Page 41 of Just This Once

“Neither,” I say, blinking the sting out of my eyes as I step away from him. “It’s…something with Jake.”

Dante’s brow furrows. “He okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, he’s fine. I’m fine. We’re all fine.”

He presses his lips together, fighting a grin as he nods seriously. “Of course.”

I swipe my hand over my forehead. “I’m…not sure what to do. There’s…” I sigh and meet Dante’s steady gaze. “Promise me you won’t breathe a word of this to Jake, because I haven’t talked about it with him and I have no idea how he’s feeling about anything and I’m so afraid to fuck this all up. I don’t want to fuck up.”

I don’t realize I’ve started crying until Dante takes off his bandanna to wipe it over my cheeks. My breath hiccups. “I don’t want to fuck up.”

Dante soothes me, once again taking me into his arms, tucking my head against his neck. “You’re not going to fuck itup. You never could, and I know you love your kids more than anything. Your kids know it too. They feel it. Everything’s going to be okay.”

He hands me his bandanna to use as a tissue then cups the back of my head, his fingertips making soft circles against my scalp, tangling in strands of my hair, lulling me into a state of quiet. In myself and in the world around us. I don’t hear the rustle of leaves or the squirrel skittering off somewhere in the distance. There is only him and me and this sense of rightness.

“What happened?” he asks, drawing my attention to his eyes, solemn and captivating in how dark they are, almost black. Makes every quirk of his mouth all the more playful, although he’s not smiling now. I place my hands on his sides, curling my fingers into the cotton of his hoodie, partly for heat but mostly for solace. He’s not going anywhere.

“Jake had his best friend over, and I went upstairs to ask if he was staying for dinner, but I interrupted them.”

At first, he frowns then tips his chin up as it dawns on him. “Inter—ohh.”

“I didn’t know what to say, but I feel bad because I probably embarrassed both of them. Holden couldn’t run out of the house fast enough, and I don’t know if he’s okay. Jake was… He seemed shocked and mad and mortified. I mean, if my mom ever walked in on me with someone when I was in high school, I would have been scarred for life.”

Dante agrees. “My mom did walk in on me once. With Annalise Schaffer. I had my hand up her shirt.”

“What happened?”

He chuckles with a shrug. “My mom told Annalise to go home and then smacked me upside the head.”

“That’s it?”

“Basically. And not to make her a grandmother that young.”

I had Griffin and Ian talk to Jake after Craig and I agreed he would give our son “the talk.” I came to find out he’d tossed Jake a box of condoms and said, “Use them,” and that was it. I’ve also had conversations with Jake, reminding him to treat girls how he would want his own sister to be treated and harped on consent and consequences, though I’ve never thought about it in terms of same-sex relationships.

“I told Jake we’d talk later,” I explain to Dante, “but I’m not sure what to say to him. Like, first of all, do I need to put rules in place now about Holden in his room? Or other boys? Do we need to have more talks about sex and health? I don’t know.”

Now that I’ve started talking, I can’t stop, spitting out every thought that’s been swirling in my mind for the last few minutes. “As much as I know no one in my family will treat him differently, I can’t say the rest of the world won’t. I think of Marianne and her journey of coming out, but Jake’s will be different. He’s an athletic white kid, and does it make me a terrible person for being glad about that?” I shake my head, eyes on the ground. “It does, doesn’t it? That he can move through the world easier because of what he looks like than other queer people. I’m such an asshole. The worst kind of person.”

“No.” Dante stops me from backing away from him with my shame. “You’re not an asshole. You’re a person who knows we have certain privileges, and, yeah, guys who look like me and Jake sometimes do have an easier time with everything. I’m sure every mom wants their kid to avoid pain at all costs, and I think all me and you and Jake can do is try to make the road easier for other people.”

I nod, sniffling, letting out the last of it. “I just want him to be safe and happy, and I’m afraid he might be hurt for being who he is.”

Dante kisses my forehead. “I’m not sure anything I say cantake that worry away, but I’m really happy Jake has you as his mother. He’s a lucky kid.”

I blow out a breath, tucking my hair behind my ears, hoping I don’t look too raccoonish. Dante’s hands follow, his fingers tracing the same trail with my hair and under my eyes. I like it better when he does it anyway. He’s more careful about it. More appreciative. Touching me as if he can’t believe I’m allowing him to.

“You know,” he starts with a shrug, “this might all be nothing. Could be a couple of kisses to experiment. He might not know what it is either.”

I tip my head, studying this beautiful yet work-roughened man. He’s coarse but refined, like he’s been carved from a pine tree by the hand of God. And that’s how I know God’s a woman. Because She would make sure her creations understood social justice.

“Why does that sound like it’s coming from experience?” I ask, and he offers me a sheepish smile.

“I may have done a little…experimenting in the past.”

“Yeah?”

He leans against his worktable, tugging me next to him. “It’s not a big deal. I can’t speak for all guys, but I feel like we’re all a little curious. You know? Like if I could suck my own cock, would I? And if I did, what does that say about me?”

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