When they parted, Zane’s heart was pounding and Ty was trying to catch his breath.
“I’ve been thinking,” Ty said as he pressed his nose to Zane’s cheek.
“Not your strong suit.”
“Oh, look who’s funny,” Ty said, though he was smiling against Zane’s skin. He pulled back a step to meet Zane’s eyes. “I’m serious. What would you think of telling my parents about us?”
Zane’s heart leapt into his throat. “You want to come out to your mom and dad?”
Ty licked his lips and nodded. “I want you to be part of the family. You deserve that. We deserve it.”
Zane began to smile.
“I just . . . I don’t know how. I don’t know if I have the guts to do it.”
“Baby, I think deciding you want to is a pretty big step. We’ll figure it out.” He kissed Ty languidly, breathless and distracted by the heat growing between them that wouldn’t be addressed soon enough. “Thank you.”
“What for?”
“I know what a big deal that is. I know what you’ve been through. Thank you for thinking I’m worth it.”
Ty stared at him for a long moment, then kissed him again, harder. They lingered over it, taking their time, letting themselves enjoy the brief moment.
“You better get cleaned up,” Zane finally said as he pushed Ty away and headed for the door. He didn’t look back. If he did, he and Ty would end up screwing in the shower, and that would be so very hard to explain.
He headed for the landing, meeting Deuce at the top of the stairs with a knowing grin and following him down to the kitchen. Ty wasn’t far behind them. It was a glimpse into what it might have been like to grow up here, to have a family that was so close, a mother who hugged at every opportunity, a brother who was more like an accomplice than a sibling. It made Zane’s stomach cramp to think of all the ways life could have been different.
Ty sat next to him at the table and held his hand as they all bowed their heads to offer thanks for the meal. Zane squeezed his fingers, wanting nothing more than to be able to hold Ty’s hand whenever they wanted. The fact that Ty had broached the subject of telling his family had warmed Zane’s soul in ways he hadn’t known he’d needed. It might take time, but maybe they would get there sooner rather than later.
Zane dug into the delicious dinner, surrounded by warmth and laughter, feeling remarkably at home.
It was a good while later, with dessert on the table, that Mara cleared her throat and reached out to put her hand on Ty’s forearm. “By the way, I told the minister and choirmaster you boys would be at the service in the morning.”
Deuce and Ty groaned in unison.
“Hey, I’d get to hear you sing,” Zane said, perking up. “Something besides the national anthem and the Battle Hymn.”
Ty growled at him, then looked at his mother. “They have a perfectly good choir. I’m sure they don’t need us.”
“What’s wrong with him?” Deuce asked with a jerk of his thumb at Earl. “He doesn’t sing with his fingers.”
Mara narrowed her eyes at them both.
“Okay, okay,” Ty conceded, holding up both hands. “We’ll sing.”
Deuce grumbled but didn’t argue. The brothers locked eyes and seemed to communicate silently, devising a way out of it. Mara was too pleased to notice.
“As long as Dad sings with us,” Ty added with a shit-eating grin at his father.
Earl rolled his eyes.
“Whatever it takes,” Mara said. She stood and went to the refrigerator. “All of you shitheads need Jesus so far as I’m concerned.”
Zane almost choked on his tea.
“That includes you,” Mara told him. She sat back down with a dish of whipped cream, and Zane waved a hand in acknowledgment as he tried to clear his throat.
Ty was laughing beside him. He patted Zane’s knee under the table and squeezed, resting his hand there. Zane’s eyes were watering, and his cheeks were warm with a shade of embarrassment, but it was okay. Par for the course with the Gradys.
After dinner, everyone gathered in the living room for coffee. Zane sat on one end of the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. The weather had turned drizzly toward the end of the afternoon and dropped the temperature a little low, even for late June in the mountains. The windows were open, letting in the breeze and the scent of rain.
It was a pretty scene, homey and comfortable. For all that the Gradys had bickered over the construction of the new roof and made fun during dinner, they seemed to enjoy the verbal battles, and there was no tension or malice in the air. Zane could feel weariness encroaching as the breeze and familiar scents seeped into him.
He sat slouched with one arm outstretched off the end of the couch, his fingertip brushing a little cut-glass figurine on the table. It reflected the light as he nudged it, watching it sparkle.
Ty sat on the floor, leaning back against the couch and looking exhausted. Deuce lounged on the other end of the sofa, his feet up on a stool in front of him. Earl and Mara sat on the loveseat across the room. They cuddled together, Mara curled in the crook of Earl’s arm draped over the back of the loveseat. For a couple who’d been together so long and seemed to lack any sentimentality about their marriage, it was an oddly sweet thing. Zane had never seen his parents cuddling.
Deuce groaned. “Ma, what sort of pie was that?” He was rubbing his stomach.
“Bitter cherry. Lucy Hopewell had one at the potluck a week back, and I thought I might try it. It wasn’t good?”
“It was good, Ma,” Ty said, voice flat.
“Where do you get bitter cherries?” Deuce asked.
“Disgruntled trees,” Ty said. He looked over his shoulder with a smirk.
Earl barked a laugh and Mara gave a surprised giggle. Zane studiously kept his eyes on the figurine, biting his lip as laughter shook through him.
Deuce glared at Ty, but Ty returned the look with wide-eyed innocence. “Maybe they need a shrink.”
“I hate you.”
Chester cackled and shook his head. He rocked in his chair, facing the couch from the other side of the fireplace, drinking from a mason jar of clear liquid that Ty had implied was some incredible moonshine. He watched the glass figurine as Zane played with it.
“I gave that to my wife on our fiftieth Christmas together,” he announced, looking at the little angel with a melancholy fondness.
Zane let his head fall to the side as he watched the light play off the glass. “I bet she loved it.”