Veils of Rivalry Chapter 85

Blaise's POV

Okay, maybe I need help. But in my defense, I thought I’d lost him.

“Try to smile,” Cole says, pulling on the corners of my lips with his forefingers. He tilts his head, his nose scrunching up. “Maybe not. You look like Joker with that psychotic smile.”

I follow behind like a kicked puppy as he walks up the drive and jogs up the stairs. His shorts show the strong muscles in his thighs from training, bunching with each step. If we didn’t have to play nice with our parents, those shorts would be around his ankles now.

He turns and rubs his neck while I ascend the last two steps like a lazy cat. “Just…don’t run your mouth in there, okay?”

“Run my mouth?”

His Adam’s apple bobs on a swallow. “If your dad is against…” He lowers his hand and gestures between us. “…this. If he’s against us. I know you can be protective and⁠—”

“Damn right.” I fist his T-shirt and pull him to me with such force, he crashes against me. “If he says a single bad thing about you, I won’t hesitate to acquaint him with my fist.”

“Blaise,” he chuckles, uncertain. “He’s your dad.”

“I don’t fucking care. I almost lost you. You were bleeding all over me and…” I drift off, needing a moment to rein in my emotions. My heart always aches whenever I think of his pale, blood-smeared face and broken body that day. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you again, and that includes words.”

“I can stand up for myself⁠—”

One moment, he’s giving me his old spiel about how he doesn’t need or want me to defend him, and the next, I have him trapped against the railing with my hand clamped over his mouth to shut him up. “I know you can stand up for yourself, but that’s beside the point. I’m your boyfriend, Cole. Your man. Your battles are my fucking battles. Don’t you dare try to fight alone! Not anymore. Not over my dead body. I love you, for fuck’s sake. You don’t ever have to stand up for yourself anymore, not when I’m here.” I shove away, my body trembling with rage.

Rage at the world for not accepting all types of love, no matter age, race, or gender. I fucking hate that Cole has to worry about our parents’ opinion of us. They wouldn’t bat an eyelid about our union if I were a girl. But I have a dick, and therefore, he spent the day fearing their rejection, and that makes me want to break shit.

I don’t deal well with these emotions. It fucking pains me to witness Cole’s anxiety. Who the fuck cares what our parents think? Fuck them.

Cole cares. He cares a lot.

I rub my eyes vigorously before dropping my hands and meeting my stepbrother’s worried gaze. “C’mon. Let’s see what they have to say.”

He doesn’t object when I reach for his hand, and that makes me feel like I’ve won a trophy. For the past week, Cole has kept his distance from me around my parents, only kissing me or touching me behind closed doors.

I squeeze his damp palm as I pull open the door and enter the house. The rich smell of steak and peppercorn sauce is the first thing that greets us.

Exchanging a look with Cole, we find his mother in the kitchen. The table has been set, and a fresh vase of flowers sits in the middle.

Releasing my hand, Cole walks up to his mom and kisses her cheek. “It smells lovely.”

A pink hue touches her cheeks, and she peers past him at me. “I hope you’re hungry, Blaise.”

Smelling a trap, I walk deeper into the room. What’s with the meal? I expected a much more arctic atmosphere than this. It’s almost as if…his mom is trying to distract us.

“Sit down,” she offers just as my dad enters the room, looking tired. He pulls out the chair beside mine, barely sparing me a glance, and Cole’s mom plops down next to her son.

Red flags. Red fucking flags everywhere.

I pick up my fork and knife for something to occupy my hands with while Dad cuts into his steak without a preamble. Silence falls over the table, and I try to catch Cole’s eyes, but he looks anywhere but at me. I kick him under the table, and he gulps his glass of water.

My teeth gnash.

There’s nothing I hate more than to be ignored. Especially by Cole. It always makes me want to choke him, but since our parents are here, acting weirder than usual, I can’t exactly launch myself across the table, steaks be damned, and choke the daylights out of him to drive home the point not to shut me out.

Instead, I cut a perfectly symmetrical square of steak and eat it like a normal person who isn’t occupied with murderous thoughts. I can do this. I can be normal.

I’m so fucking normal.

Normal. Normal. Normal.

“Gavin and I are divorcing,” Cole’s mom blurts, making me choke on the steak.

Across from me, Cole pales while I hack up a lung. I reach for my glass of water, then down it in one. While I expected this to be an intense talk, I didn’t expect them to announce their divorce.

When I can finally breathe again, Cole asks, “Is it because…?”

“No,” she replies in a soft, reassuring voice. “Not at all. It’s not about you, boys. Gavin and I… Well…”

My father blots his mouth with a napkin. “We talked and decided it’s for the best.”

“But why?” my boyfriend asks.

I love calling him that. My boyfriend.

Mine.

Cole’s mom fidgets, mulling over her words. “Ever since your dad, I’ve existed in survival mode. You’re grown up now, and well…” She lifts a shoulder and lets it fall. “I think I need some time alone to find myself again.”

“And you’re okay with this?” I ask my dad, who is unusually quiet beside me. I would even go as far as to say he looks contemplative.

Tapping his forefinger on the table, he nods. “Yes, I think it’s for the best, too.” He lifts his gaze and looks at Cole. “I love your mom but haven’t been a good husband. I realize that now. I think that…maybe we married for the wrong reasons. And your mom is right. She deserves space away and freedom to find herself again.”

I look over at Cole’s mom, seeing tears cling to her lashes, but she looks…happy.

“What about money?” Cole asks.

“That’s already taken care of. I wouldn’t leave her penniless.”

Silence falls on the table. I wait for someone to mention the elephant. No one does.

I meet Cole’s eyes and address the room. “Cole is my boyfriend. I love him. I have loved him for a very long time. Probably from the first day I met him, even when he was stubborn and decided from day one that he hated me.”

“I love you, too,” he mouths, and we share a small, nervous smile.

“Are you gay?” Dad asks me.

“No, I’m not gay.”