“Something like that.” Michael pulled a credit card out of his wallet and slid it into the folder.

Nick couldn’t stop the disappointment tightening his chest. As much as he’d hated thinking Michael would be such an idiot as to believe sexuality was a choice, there’d been a measure of relief in not having to tell him.

Now they were back to square one. And they were leaving. In half an hour, he’d be at home, feeling more alone than ever.

The waitress took the leather folder and zipped away.

And Michael just seemed relieved. Quinn wasn’t pregnant, nothing else could be wrong. Reliable Nick always had a handle on everything, and wasn’t an unplanned pregnancy like the worst thing he could possibly face?

Nick didn’t want to look at his brother anymore. Being wrong wasn’t Michael’s fault—but it felt like it. “Why would you think that?” he asked, his voice quiet.

“Actually, it was Hannah’s guess.”

“Hmm.”

Michael centered on him. “It wouldn’t have been a bad thing. I just—I didn’t want you to think you couldn’t tell me.”

Nick didn’t say anything to that.

Then the waitress was back and Michael was signing his name, and this little moment was ending.

Nick didn’t move. He couldn’t. He felt like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, looking down at water far below. A short flight through air, with an impact that might kill him.

Michael hesitated at the edge of his booth. “You ready?”

“No.”

Say it. Tell him.

Two words. He couldn’t even get two words out of his mouth.

You care more about what other people think than you care about me.

Adam had faced a lot worse than this.

Nick looked at his older brother, then shoved the empty beer glass toward him. He felt dizzy, like the air was too thin to breathe. His voice came out wispy. “You might want another one.”

“Why?”

“Because you guessed wrong.” He laughed shortly. “Way wrong.”

Michael studied him but didn’t say anything.

Nick took a breath and forced himself to look up. “Michael. I’m gay.”

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 23

Three feet of wooden table stretched between them, but it might as well have been three miles. This moment between words and reaction seemed to stretch into infinity.

Nick had leapt off that cliff, and now he was waiting to see what he’d hit at the bottom.

Michael eased back into the booth and leaned his forearms on the table. He edged Nick’s half-empty soda glass toward him. “Here. You look like you’re going to pass out.”

Nick couldn’t move. He worried he would pass out if Michael didn’t say something more substantial than that.

The waitress came to the table again, obviously noting that they hadn’t left. She fidgeted, clearly unsettled by the tension.