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Chapter 5 - Oliver

15 YEARS OLD

H unter and I are sitting on the bed when we hear them start arguing. Our parents. They're yelling at each other, back and forth in disagreement about…me. A hand comes to mine, and he holds it tightly as we collectively hold our breaths and listen in. If they wanted it to be a secret, maybe they shouldn't be screaming at each other. Except now I wish I had never listened in.

"I don't know what I'm going to do now!" my dad yells. "I don't know what to do with him!"

"How about you just love him the way he is?" Lucy yells back.

"I've tried to put him in sports, tried to bond with him over soccer?—"

"You know he doesn't give a fuck about soccer anymore, Conrad," she snaps, and my spine straightens. So they're definitely talking about me. Hunter's hand squeezes mine painfully, and I gasp. "He likes to paint and draw?—"

"He's fucking gay," my dad growls, and I flinch. "What do I even do with that?"

"You love him!"

I breathe in deeply to keep myself from crying, and Hunter lies me down on his pillow and holds me close from behind.

He's spooning me again, not that it's unusual. Except this time I notice more than I should. Like his dick against my ass. Being fifteen…well, I've started getting these urges. And I don't know how to get rid of them. Morning wood and wet dreams are definitely a thing, and Hunter tells me it's normal and I shouldn't be ashamed. But I'm not ashamed of that, I'm ashamed that those dreams are about him.

"You accept him," Lucy says a little more softly this time. "Con, he's your son."

"So is Hunter," he tells her, and one lone tear falls this time. "And he would never let me down this way."

Hunter's arms tighten around me, pulling me in impossibly closer. His lips brush against my ear, and he says, "Don't listen to him. You're perfect the way you are. I love you, just like this."

"But he doesn't," I reply sadly. "My own dad doesn't want me." Just like my mom didn't want me. She chose the drugs over me.

"He's just being stupid right now."

"How did he know?" I gasp out. "How would he even know I'm gay?"

"I think it's harder for you to hide it now, Ollie." He runs his fingers through my hair, soothing me. "But you shouldn't have to. Not with me, not with Dad. We're family."

My throat is tight as tears soak the pillow, and I sniffle. Hunter wraps himself around me even closer, kissing my cheek from behind. I close my eyes to keep myself from crying. With his arms around me and his face buried in the crook of my neck, I feel safe. Only I realize this isn't normal anymore. Fifteen-year-old brothers don't act like this, and it's messing with my head.

I'm noticing more and more how pretty Hunter is. How much I like him— more than a brother should. Yet, because I value my life, I would never act on it.

Instead, I enjoy whatever he gives me—which is a lot.

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