Page 13 of New Year in Kentbury
I want to believe they’ll support me. That they’ll see me for who I’ve always been, not who I pretended to be. But the fear is paralyzing.
As if summoned by my thoughts, McKay steps into the barn, her presence as easy and unrelenting as always. “Finally found you,” she says, her tone light but curious. She leans against theworkbench, arms crossed, her gaze sharp and assessing. “You’ve been hiding, Paul.”
I keep my focus on the wrench, twisting it needlessly. “Just been busy,” I say, my voice even, practiced.
She drags out the word, skeptical. “Busy, huh? Festival’s over, and you were gone for two weeks. Twice. And now you’re back, but you’re still… somewhere else. What’s going on?”
“Nothing’s going on. I’m fine,” I lie, shrugging as I set the wrench down like I’ve suddenly lost interest.
McKay scoffs, tilting her head as she studies me. “Biggest lie I’ve heard all week. Try again.”
I glance at her, trying to deflect, but she’s relentless. She always has been. “I’m just tired,” I sigh, the words a shield I know won’t hold.
Her gaze softens, but it doesn’t waver. “Paul, you’re not tired. You’re carrying something, and it’s dragging you down. You’ve been off since January. What’s really going on?”
January.The knot in my stomach tightens, but I force myself to stay neutral. “People grieve,” I say, keeping my voice casual. “It takes time. I’ll be fine.”
She doesn’t buy it. She never does. But she doesn’t push, and for that, I’m grateful. Because the truth? I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending I’ll be fine.
“It is a big deal,” McKay presses, stepping closer, her voice unwavering in a way that feels like she’s trying to shake the truth out of me. “You’ve always been the one who holds it all together. You’re the first to show up, the last to leave. You’re there for everyone, no matter what. But you haven’t been yourself for months, Paul. Don’t think we haven’t noticed. I’ve noticed. Lou’s noticed. Even Bishop’s been asking about you. So stop pretending and tell me—what’s going on?”
My fingers grip the wrench so tightly that the strain shoots up my arm. Her words land like blows, one after the other, until the air around me feels suffocating. The truth is right there, clawing at my throat, begging to be let out. But how can I? How do I take years of hiding and distill it into a single moment?
“McKay,” I say finally, my voice low and tight, “it’s not something you can fix.”
Her expression softens, but she doesn’t retreat. She’s never been the type to back down. “Maybe not,” she says, her tone quieter now, carrying a warmth that digs past my defenses. “But you don’t have to carry it alone. Paul, you’ve always been there for us. For everyone. And we love you. No matter what. We want to be here for you, too.”
The words hit me right in the chest, stealing the breath I didn’t realize I was holding. My jaw clenches as I try to force the emotions down, but her gaze is unwavering, pulling me closer to the edge of honesty. “You love me,” I manage, my voice barely more than a whisper, “no matter what?”
“No matter what,” she says, firm and certain.
I risk a small, shaky smile. “Even if I push an old lady instead of helping her cross the street?”
She snorts, a laugh breaking through the tension. “Even then. I loved you when you were an asshole, remember?”
“I wasn’t exactly an asshole,” I reply, a faint chuckle escaping me. “Just . . . oblivious. Out of touch with life and myself.”
“Maybe,” she says, her smile softening. “But even then, I loved you. Because you’re my big brother.”
My throat tightens. “Even if I were gay? Would you still love me?”
Her eyes search mine, something tender and knowing settling in her expression. “Are you finally coming out to us? Or are you still figuring it out?”
The question startles me. “What do you mean?” My voice wavers, my heart pounding in my chest.
“We love you. All of us—the McFolley siblings,” she says. “We’ve been waiting for you to feel ready. To be open about yourself.”
“How do you know?” The words feel raw, scraping against my throat as I push them out.
She shrugs one shoulder, her smile turning wry. “Someone might’ve seen you kissing someone.”
My stomach plummets. “The entire town knows?”
“No,” she says quickly. “Just Lavender. She saw you and Damian a couple of summers ago.”
I let out a disbelieving laugh, the sound hollow and thin. Damian and I had been careful. So damn careful. Then panic blooms, sharp and insistent. “Did you tell Bishop?”
“Bishop confirmed it,” she admits. “But he said his brother is so deep in the closet, he probably wouldn’t ever come out. He told me he hoped Damian wouldn’t break your heart.”
