Chapter 9

9

YORK

W hen I pushed open the door of the Double F bar, a blast of warmth and noise welcomed us into its dimly lit interior. Quillon was right behind me, his hand resting lightly on my lower back—a gesture that guided and reassured me.

"Looks like everyone else is already here." I pointed past the packed dance floor and the rowdy pool players to a table in the back where I spotted my…friends? What should I label them? They'd been Essex's friends, not mine, but ever since I'd told them about Essex bullying me, they'd invited me to hang out with them. Probably out of pity, but I still accepted. Yes, I was that person who accepted crumbs of affection if that was all he could get. Pride was for people who could afford it.

"Ready?" Quillon asked, his voice a steady thrum that matched the bass line pulsing from the speakers.

"Let's do this." I squared my shoulders, the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.

Excited faces turned toward us, and Tiago was the first to stand, his smile broad and genuine. He and Tomás had returned from Brazil that morning.

"York! So glad to see you."

He gave me a hug, which I accepted awkwardly, and as soon as we were done, Tomás took his place. Both Tiago and Tomás were huggers—probably because of their half-Brazilian heritage.

Auden slapped my shoulder, and Marnin sent me a brief, though friendly nod. I waved at Cas, Tiago's boyfriend, and then obliged Fir with another hug. He gave good hugs, squeezing tight enough to make me feel seen and brief enough not to make it too awkward.

"Everyone, this is Quillon." I took Quillon's hand without thinking about it. "My boyfriend."

A collective "Oooh" rippled through the group, followed by playful elbows and knowing looks.

"Hey there," Quillon said with a smile.

"Quillon, meet my friends." God, hopefully, they wouldn't mind me calling them that. "That's Tomás and Tiago, who you probably recognize, and Tiago's boyfriend, Cas. In the corner is Marnin, who also lives in Seattle. And you've already met Auden and Fir."

Had I done that right? My social awkwardness plagued me in general, but even more around these men. I wanted them to like me for me rather than for being Essex's sad little brother, as unlikely as that goal was.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all. And yes, I do recognize you," Quillon said to Tomás and Tiago. "I'd have to turn in my gay card if I didn't."

That got chuckles from everyone. Quillon was so good at socializing. It came so easily and naturally to him. I envied him for that.

"Boyfriend, huh?" Marnin waggled his eyebrows, his grin infectious. "Color me impressed, York. Didn't think you had it in ya."

"Believe it," I said with more confidence than I felt. The word boyfriend tasted strange on my tongue, and I kept my fingers crossed that I was selling it.

We found chairs next to each other and sat.

"Welcome to the chaos, Quillon," Auden said. "You've found yourself one of the good ones."

He was so kind, saying that, even more because he knew it was all fake.

"Thanks. I'm happy to be here and meet York's friends," Quillon said.

As Quillon and I settled into the din of the Double F bar, a server sidled up with the ease of an old pro at avoiding tipsy patrons. "What can I get ya?" she asked, pad poised. Her smile was as bright as the neon sign above the bar.

I ordered a Coke, not trusting myself with alcohol, and I wasn't surprised when Quillon ordered bottled water. And he wasn't the only one. Auden rarely drank as well, a consequence of his job as sheriff. The others chimed in with their orders.

"Coming right up," the server chirped, twirled on her heel, and weaved back to the bar.

Once the drink orders were given, the table erupted into a flurry of conversations, a cacophony of voices that blended into the background hum of country music and clinking glasses. It was the usual banter—a mix of updates and inside jokes that made the air crackle with camaraderie. Most of these men had known each other since kindergarten, which was over forty years. Technically, I'd known them a long time too, but the age difference had made me an outsider, Essex's pesky little brother.

Auden leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking under his bulk, and ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "Violet won an essay contest," he said, his voice carrying a note of pride. "A statewide one, which made her essay the best in the state of Washington."

"I heard about it," Fir said. "That's an amazing accomplishment. What was it about?"

"She argued that kids in middle and high school shouldn't be forced to read only classic literature but should be allowed to read popular fiction if they preferred that. Her point was that reading literature that didn't appeal to them turned kids off from reading and that it was better for kids to read commercial fiction that would make them eager to read more."

"I bet your husband had an opinion on that," Marnin said with a grin.

"Keaton agrees with her, though as an English teacher, he prefers a mix of both."

"Where is he?" I asked.

"Some training on the new state tests that are being introduced next school year." Auden sighed. "Not his favorite thing, but an unavoidable part of his job."

The waitress returned, deftly distributing new drinks and taking away empty glasses. I took a sip from my Coke, the sweetness a welcome refresher, and let myself enjoy the company.

"Our mom's doing much better," Tomás said. "The heart surgery was tough on her, but she's a fighter. Seeing her up and walking…it's like witnessing a little miracle every day."

"We FaceTime a few times a day," Tiago said. "It's so good to see her improving every time we talk."

"I was glad you guys could be there for her," Auden said. "That must've meant a lot to both her and your dad."

What would it be like to have a relationship like that with your parents? I couldn't imagine it. Hell, I wasn't even sure what I would feel if my parents passed away. Sadness, of course, but would it be genuine grief or more pain because of what should have been? Not something I wanted to spend too much time thinking about.

Marnin leaned forward, gesturing between Quillon and me. "I can't help but notice how…polite you two are with each other. If you're trying to sell this boyfriend act, you might want to dial up the affection."

Fuck.

The words hung heavily in the air, a challenge wrapped in casual observation. Next to me, Quillon tensed. Heat crept up my neck, and I sensed the scrutiny from our friends, waiting to see how we'd respond.

I bristled at Marnin's words, the sting making me feel exposed. "We are boyfriends." I struggled to maintain my composure. My voice might have carried a hint more defensiveness than I'd intended. "Maybe we're just private people."

Marnin raised an eyebrow as if he was unconvinced and waved across the table where Tiago and Cas sat so close together you couldn't get a sheet of paper between them and then to Fir and Tomás, who'd been touching each other every few seconds, exchanging those lovey-dovey looks that felt almost too private to witness. "Sure, but look around and note the obvious difference."

Quillon clenched his jaw, and his anger sat heavy on my stomach. Shit, I'd failed him, all because I hadn't been able to sell the story necessary to safeguard me. He'd asked me one thing, and I'd disappointed him.

"We're not all given to public displays," Quillon said, his voice tight.

"Maybe." Marnin shrugged. "Just saying, if you want people to buy the love story, you might wanna crank up the heat a little."

I glanced at Quillon for cues on how to navigate this conversation. The flicker of doubt in his eyes and the slight downturn of his mouth made it clear that he was also uncomfortable. Ripples of unease seemed to spread to our friends, and the tension around our table thickened like the air before a thunderstorm.

"That's enough, Marnin." Auden's voice was calm. He hadn't increased his volume, yet his authority was apparent. "Back off."

Marnin's usual gruff demeanor softened almost imperceptibly under Auden's firm stare. They exchanged a silent conversation, an understanding that passed without words, and Marnin nodded. He tipped his beer bottle toward Quillon and me, a gesture that seemed to say "no hard feelings."

The relief was immediate. The air cleared as if he'd opened a window in a stuffy room. Cas shared a story about a job where a man had tried to fix a leaking pipe and had ended up flooding his entire basement, and after that, we were back to catching up. I didn't say much, but I loved being with these men, who were so close to each other. They were about the only exception to my dislike for groups.

When Quillon and I stepped out into the brisk air, darkness covered the town, and the Double F's neon sign cast a kaleidoscopic glow on the deserted street. We walked side by side, our shadows merging and stretching on the sidewalk, the earlier tension hanging between us like an unsolved equation. With each step we took away from the bar, the cacophony of laughter and clinking glasses faded, replaced by the rhythmic tapping of our shoes against the concrete.

The disquieting undercurrent of the evening had left me feeling unmoored and my usually ordered thoughts scattered. I checked to make sure no one was around us. "I'm sorry I didn't do a good job selling our relationship. Are you angry with me?"

I'd kept my voice barely above a whisper.

Quillon paused midstride and turned to face me with an unreadable expression. The way he looked at me suggested a depth of consideration that went beyond mere annoyance. "No, I'm not angry with you."

I exhaled, the breath I'd been holding escaping in a white cloud. "I just thought after Marnin's comment, you might be…"

I didn't want to complete the thought. Admitting vulnerability wasn't something that came naturally to me—an instinctual self-defense mechanism honed over years of emotional isolation.

We resumed walking, and this time, I took Quillon's hand, needing the solidity of his grip. He squeezed my hand gently, as if to punctuate his earlier statement.

"I'm angry with myself," Quillon said after a while. "Disappointed in myself for not doing a better job. Feels like I failed you."

He did? Wasn't it interesting how our feelings were mirrored? "You didn't fail me. It's a hiccup."

"If any of them shares their doubts about us with anyone else…"

"They won't. Auden and Fir know the truth. The Banner twins won't say anything, considering they have personal experience with having their secrets spilled, and Marnin may come across as an asshole, but he's a good guy. His bark is far worse than his bite."

Quillon blew out a breath. "You picked your friends well."

I snorted. "I didn't pick them. They chose me, probably out of… Never mind. But yes, they're great guys, all of them."

"Regardless, if Marnin clued in to our deceit that easily, we need to do better."

That, I could agree with. A thought occurred to me. "Are you gay?"

Quillon stopped again, looking at me with his mouth hanging open. "You didn't know?"

"How would I know? I'd never ask someone that, and you never said anything either."

"Oh." He set off again, a deep frown on his face. "I assumed you knew when you suggested the boyfriend ruse."

"I only said that because it made the most sense to me, not because I had any assumptions about your sexuality. To be honest, I hadn't given it much thought, probably because labels like that mean little to me. Love is love, and sexuality is fluid."

"Agreed. Anyway, yes, I'm gay. Which is why I blame myself. I should know how to make our connection believable."

"Please don't point the finger at yourself. I have little experience with relationships and none with other men, so that doesn't help. It's hard for me to know what to do because I have no clue how I would behave in a relationship."

"You said you had previous relationships."

I shook my head. "They never moved beyond hookups or a few first awkward dates. I've never held hands with anyone in public."

"Oh."

"So we should practice more."

"That would be smart, yes."

"And maybe kiss."

This time, Quillon stopped so suddenly that he jerked my hand back. "What?"

"We should kiss."

"Yeah, I heard that, but why?"

I shrugged. "It's hard to display intimacy that isn't there. People's body language changes after having sex, a subconscious mannerism that's hard to fake, especially for someone like me who's not good at pretending. So I think it would help if we kissed."

Quillon stared at me as if I'd sprouted horns or grown a tail. "You want to kiss me."

"Not want to, but I think we need to. We can't display the necessary familiarity unless we become more intimate." I sighed. "I know I'm not your type, so just think of it as doing your job, okay?"

Quillon blinked. "My job. You want me to think of kissing you as my job."

"Isn't it? Convincing people we're in a relationship is crucial to my safety, which is your job, so I think a good case could be made for doing this in the line of duty."

"Jesus fucking Christ." Quillon stared at me for a moment longer, then stepped closer and curled his hand around my neck. My little gasp of surprise was swallowed as he covered my mouth and kissed me. His lips were firm, dominant, so different from the lips of the women I'd kissed, and I yielded to him without thinking about it. The kiss was superficial, without tongue, yet heat pooled in my belly. When he let go of me—way too soon—I stood reeling.

"There," he said hoarsely. "Now I've done my duty."