dad.”
I bit my cheek hard, immediately pissed at myself for bringing up the past. From the moment we were seated in our romantic hideaway, I’d been wracking my brain for conversational tidbits to keep from reminiscing about high school glory days. Letting him know I remembered his past career goals was not a smart move. When he didn’t answer, I looked up, hoping he hadn’t heard me. He tilted his head to the side and gave me a sad smile.
“Things changed. I don’t have a family anymore, Bran.”
Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask.
“What happened?” I heard someone who sounded a lot like me ask.
Jake pursed his lips together thoughtfully and picked up his glass, swirling the contents lazily. I was convinced he wasn’t going to answer my question when he finally spoke.
“I came out and got kicked out when I was nineteen. It was ugly. I didn’t know how to survive at first. I had a hard time coming to terms with being cut off from what I thought was a loving family.” He gave a humorless snort and set his wine aside. “Mentally, physically, financially… I was a mess.”
“I’m sor—”
“Don’t be. I told you I’d been through my share of less-than-ideal times. It sucked. But it happened a long time ago—” He let out a burst of laughter that had me squinting at him in concern.
“You unraveling?” I asked in a theatrically low tone. I widened my eyes comically and was relieved when he chuckled less maniacally.
“No. I unraveled and re-raveled years ago. I’m relatively sane nowadays.”
His grin was self-depreciating and fucking adorable. I returned his smile but fidgeted when the moment took on a charged quality. Thankfully, our waiter came by to take our order and save the exchange from becoming awkward.
“You like veal?” I asked incredulously when the waiter left us with a promise to return with fresh bread.
“Sure. Does your ‘that’s yucky’ face mean you don’t want a bite?”
“My ‘yucky fa—’ You’re hysterical, and no, I do not want a bite! That is vile. Eating a cute lit—”
“Shh. Let’s not go there. You’d probably make a pet out of a Thanksgiving turkey, Bran. Will you feel better if I tell you I eat more vegetables and pasta than meat?”
“Slightly better. I’m not a vegetarian, but I honestly think I could be. And you’re right about the turkey. I would save the poor bird if I could. I am all about the trimmings, not the turkey. Bring on the stuffing, cranberries, and green beans with a twist, and I’m happy as can be.”
“A twist?”
“Yes, I’m not fond of traditional recipes. Or traditional anything, really.”
“Do you cook?”
“A little. I like having small dinner parties and trying new recipes. Nothing fancy. Do you?” I took a sip of wine, pleased we’d skirted the potentially strained dysfunctional family topic. I could happily chat about food and entertaining all night.
“Yes. We take turns at the station. When you’re cooking for a crowd, pasta is the most efficient way to please the masses.”
“How did you become a firefighter?” So much for skirting the awkward. I was too curious to be annoyed with myself though. And the wine had loosened my lips. “Do you like it? How long have you been one? Do they know you’re gay? Are you out to the general public? My curiosity is piqued.”
Jake chuckled, his pretty eyes crinkling at the corners. He raised his brows expressively before speaking.
“O-kay. When I was twenty-one, I was in an accident and uh… that’s not important. I met this firefighter who… whatever. He was ten years older than me, confident and had his shit together. He suggested I think about getting my EMT certification and go into paramedics or firefighting, and I listened. Honestly, if he’d told me robbing banks wasn’t such a bad gig, I may have gone along with him. I was a little infatuated and hell, it was the first time anyone had given a shit about my future in a while. So I went for
I bit my cheek hard, immediately pissed at myself for bringing up the past. From the moment we were seated in our romantic hideaway, I’d been wracking my brain for conversational tidbits to keep from reminiscing about high school glory days. Letting him know I remembered his past career goals was not a smart move. When he didn’t answer, I looked up, hoping he hadn’t heard me. He tilted his head to the side and gave me a sad smile.
“Things changed. I don’t have a family anymore, Bran.”
Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask.
“What happened?” I heard someone who sounded a lot like me ask.
Jake pursed his lips together thoughtfully and picked up his glass, swirling the contents lazily. I was convinced he wasn’t going to answer my question when he finally spoke.
“I came out and got kicked out when I was nineteen. It was ugly. I didn’t know how to survive at first. I had a hard time coming to terms with being cut off from what I thought was a loving family.” He gave a humorless snort and set his wine aside. “Mentally, physically, financially… I was a mess.”
“I’m sor—”
“Don’t be. I told you I’d been through my share of less-than-ideal times. It sucked. But it happened a long time ago—” He let out a burst of laughter that had me squinting at him in concern.
“You unraveling?” I asked in a theatrically low tone. I widened my eyes comically and was relieved when he chuckled less maniacally.
“No. I unraveled and re-raveled years ago. I’m relatively sane nowadays.”
His grin was self-depreciating and fucking adorable. I returned his smile but fidgeted when the moment took on a charged quality. Thankfully, our waiter came by to take our order and save the exchange from becoming awkward.
“You like veal?” I asked incredulously when the waiter left us with a promise to return with fresh bread.
“Sure. Does your ‘that’s yucky’ face mean you don’t want a bite?”
“My ‘yucky fa—’ You’re hysterical, and no, I do not want a bite! That is vile. Eating a cute lit—”
“Shh. Let’s not go there. You’d probably make a pet out of a Thanksgiving turkey, Bran. Will you feel better if I tell you I eat more vegetables and pasta than meat?”
“Slightly better. I’m not a vegetarian, but I honestly think I could be. And you’re right about the turkey. I would save the poor bird if I could. I am all about the trimmings, not the turkey. Bring on the stuffing, cranberries, and green beans with a twist, and I’m happy as can be.”
“A twist?”
“Yes, I’m not fond of traditional recipes. Or traditional anything, really.”
“Do you cook?”
“A little. I like having small dinner parties and trying new recipes. Nothing fancy. Do you?” I took a sip of wine, pleased we’d skirted the potentially strained dysfunctional family topic. I could happily chat about food and entertaining all night.
“Yes. We take turns at the station. When you’re cooking for a crowd, pasta is the most efficient way to please the masses.”
“How did you become a firefighter?” So much for skirting the awkward. I was too curious to be annoyed with myself though. And the wine had loosened my lips. “Do you like it? How long have you been one? Do they know you’re gay? Are you out to the general public? My curiosity is piqued.”
Jake chuckled, his pretty eyes crinkling at the corners. He raised his brows expressively before speaking.
“O-kay. When I was twenty-one, I was in an accident and uh… that’s not important. I met this firefighter who… whatever. He was ten years older than me, confident and had his shit together. He suggested I think about getting my EMT certification and go into paramedics or firefighting, and I listened. Honestly, if he’d told me robbing banks wasn’t such a bad gig, I may have gone along with him. I was a little infatuated and hell, it was the first time anyone had given a shit about my future in a while. So I went for
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