Page 49 of Shut Up and Jingle Me
My laugh comes out softer than I mean it to, edged with something I don’t usually let slip. “Weird, huh? First time in my life I won’t be crammed into a house full of family, trying to keep my uncle from burning the rolls. And my nephew from sneaking cookies before dinner. Although let’s face it, I help him sneak cookies.”
I glance up, meeting Max’s eyes. He’s quiet, steady, unreadable as ever, but he’s listening. Really listening. And somehow, that makes my chest ache less.
Max breaks his silence after a long pause, his voice low but steady. “Your family…they know you’re gay?”
I blink at him, caught off guard by the question, then grin, leaning back in the booth. “Oh yeah. Not really the kind ofthing I could keep quiet. I mean, me? Living in a closet? Please. There’s not enough glitter in there for me.”
One corner of his mouth twitches, but he doesn’t quite smile. I keep going, because if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s filling quiet spaces.
“Honestly, I didn’t even plan it. I was sitting on the couch Christmas morning—gifts ripped open, pancakes demolished, everyone half-comatose from sugar—and I just…blurted it.I think I’m gay.”
Max’s eyes sharpen, like he’s waiting for the punchline.
“No one even blinked,” I say, laughing. “Dad goes,oh, we’re supposed to announce what we prefer? Okay. I’m straight.Mom just pats my knee and says,We knew already, sweetheart.And then my sister demanded the last piece of bacon before I could grab it.”
I spread my hands, cookie crumbs scattering. “That was it. Non-issue. Like I’d said the sky was blue or it was sunny outside. But they didn’t make me feel bad about it. And any guy I bring home is treated exactly the same as a girl would have been.”
For a second, Max just stares at me, unreadable. Then his gaze drops to the table, jaw tight, and I wonder if I’ve said too much.
“You bring a lot of guys home?”
“A few.” I shrug and pop the last bite of cookie into my mouth, chewing slowly, then glance across the table. “What about you?”
Max’s head lifts just a fraction, as though he didn’t expect me to ask.
“Does your family know?” I press gently. “About you?”
For a long moment, the only sound is the hum of the soda machine and the scrape of a chair across the floor on the far side of the shop. His jaw ticks, muscles working like he’s chewing glass.
Finally, he exhales. “Yeah. They know.”
I wait, giving him space, and to my surprise, he keeps going.
“Right after I graduated high school. I thought I was being careful, but they caught me. With a guy. In my room.” His mouth twists, humorless. “Didn’t go well.”
My stomach knots.
“They kicked me out that night,” he says flatly. “Told me not to come back. My dad…made sure I got the message. He pounded it into me until I was pretty sure he was trying to kill me.” His hand clenches on the table, knuckles white, but he doesn’t look at me. “Haven’t spoken to any of them since.”
The words hang heavy between us, nothing like the playful banter we’ve been trading. I feel the ache of it deep in my chest.
And suddenly, so many things click into place. The way he goes stiff whenever I touch him in public. The clipped tone around crowds. The reservation, the distance, as if he’s always bracing for someone to look too close. Or confront him for liking boys.
It’s not that he doesn’t want this. Doesn’t want me. It’s that he’s been taught to believe it’ll cost him everything.
I swallow hard, forcing my voice light even though the weight of what he just shared presses down on me. “Well… that explains why you glare every time I eventhinkabout holding your hand in public.”
His eyes flick up, green and sharp, but softer than before. Like he knows I see him now, maybe more than he wanted.
I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Max…” He stiffens at his name, as though he already regrets opening his mouth. I lower my voice, softer now. “You know…you really could come home with me for Christmas. My mom—she’d just…she’dbeyour mom. That’s just how she is. Instant adoption policy. You wouldn’t even have a choice in it.”
His head snaps up, eyes flashing. I know he wants to argue, but I hold his gaze, steady and sure. “I mean it. She wouldn’t care about anything except making sure you ate too much pie and took home cookies you’d never finish. That’s who she is. That’s home for me. And it could be for you too, if you wanted. No strings. I can introduce you as a friend.”
Max’s jaw works, like he’s grinding down a hundred responses into silence. I see the tension in his shoulders, the way his fingers curl tight against his cup, but I also see the flicker in his eyes, as if the idea is one he’s never let himself want before.
I grin, a little crooked, trying to lighten the edges. “Besides, if you don’t come with me, who’s gonna stop me from stealing all the turkey bacon on Christmas morning? My dad’s powerless against me.”
Max shakes his head, a faint scoff escaping. “You don’t know what you’re offering, Starling.” His tone is hard, shutting the door on the idea before it can even form.
