17. Jason

CHAPTER 17

JASON

Beads of sweat roll down my spine and my forehead. My favorite maroon team t-shirt is so saturated it looks several shades darker. Fuck, I forgot how hot it can get here.

Jase drops into the chair next to me, wiping sweat from his brow. "You melted yet?"

"Nearly," I huff, reaching into the small cooler beside me for a cold beer. I hold one up, offering it to Jase, who cuts his eyes towards his parents. "They're not paying any attention," I assure him, waving a hand dismissively. "Besides, it's not like you're driving anywhere."

Technically, I'm supposed to be the DD by default, since I drove us all here, but I'll worry about that later. It's hot as fuck, and I need to take the edge off.

Jase accepts the beer with a sly grin, then pops the cap of the bottle with the corner of the chair arm. I hide my smirk at the proof that he's his father's son. Janel, or my parents, would have my head if she saw me handing her son a beer, but one or even a couple isn't going to hurt him. He's leaving for college in less than two months. I'm sure he'll do his fair share of drinking. It's not like Janel could claim innocence at his age. Then again, she got pregnant her freshman year of college.

Whoops. Alright, I'm a bad uncle. Whatever. What's done is done.

"Is it weird being back?" Jase asks, and I shrug.

"A little," I tell him.

It's both the truth and a lie, because it's fucking weird. I gesture towards the yard where our family is gathered. Mom and Janel are sitting by the edge of the pool, feet dangling into the water while they fan themselves and sip from the frozen drinks Mik made them. Dad and Mik are standing near the grill, Mik looking uncomfortable. My dad never liked Mik much, even before he knocked Janel up. I can see that the years haven't changed their relationship much. The difference now is that Mik seems to be making an effort, albeit begrudgingly, to act like they're old friends.

Even if I'd stayed and been present all this time, I don't think I'd ever get used to seeing Mik like this. Even his outfit is stuffy. I snort when I notice how similarly he's dressed to my dad. They're both wearing cargo khakis and tucked-in collared shirts, except my dad's pants and sleeves are short. God forbid we see even a peek of that sexy ink crawling up his biceps.

I scoff when I notice Jase staring at me. "Does your mom pick out all his outfits for him before you come over here?"

"Probably." There's humor in his voice while he continues to watch me look at his father.

Looking away, I give Jase a once over. "At least she lets you dress like a normal person."

He grins, understanding my meaning. We exchanged a few well-meaning jokes yesterday at the park about how everyone around here acts like they live in Stepford. I was impressed that he got the reference, and even more impressed when he knew it was a book and not just a movie remake. I shouldn't have been too surprised that Mik shared his love of books and old movies with his son; it's something they bond over. That, and sports, which is what he and I tend to bond over the most.

"We used to do these cookouts all the time." I smile, looking back over the yard. "Sometimes the neighbors would come, but most of the time it was just us. And your dad, of course. He's been coming to these things since we were fifteen. Hasn't grown more comfortable being around Grams and Gramps, though, has he?"

"I don't think Gramps hates him as much as he lets on," Jase says, chuckling. "Although, I'm sure there was a time when he probably hated his guts for real."

"Yeah, well, knocking up his baby girl wasn't the first offense Mik Sanders committed against my parent's delicate sensibilities," I say, laughing into my beer as I take a swig. "Your dad used to be a different guy."

"How so?"

"Well, for starters, Mik had zero fucks to give about what anyone thought of him." I snort out a laugh. "I'll never forget the first time I brought him over to hang out. Mom had no clue how to react, just stared at him with wide eyes and a fake polite smile plastered onto her face. Not gonna lie, it was one of the reasons I invited him over initially. Eventually, Mom got used to seeing him without staring, although she'd ask him why he felt the need to present himself in such a way ," I say, mimicking my mother's voice.

"In what way?"

"You've seen pictures of him when he was your age, right?"

Jase shrugs. "Grandpa had some old pictures of when he was a kid. And I think I saw a picture once of the two of you at a match, but he looked normal. I mean, he looked young. Looked a lot like me, actually." He smiles, like he's pleased at their family resemblance.

"We'll have to dig out some more pictures, then. I know your parents must have some hidden away somewhere." Hidden away in a lockbox, like Mik's other dirty secrets. "Your dad was the anti-establishment poster boy when he was younger—long hair, piercings, and the first hints at his tattoo obsession." Jase snaps his head towards me, and I roll my eyes. "Yeah, I know about those. Saw a good bit of them when he was sick." Saw all of them. Every last inked inch. "Back in the day, there would have been no fucking chance that he'd button up and cover any of it."

"But he does it for mom."

I hum in agreement.

"It bothers you," Jase says after a moment of silence, where I find my eyes back on Mik.

Every few minutes he glances up and catches my eye, only to look away just as quickly, pretending he doesn't know I'm watching him. Unfortunately, his son seems to pick up on it, so I do my best to force my attention elsewhere.

"Nah. None of my business. All I care about is that you and your mom are happy."

"Why did you leave? The real reason," Jase says firmly, holding me with a serious gaze.

"It's… complicated."

"Is it? I know it has something to do with me being born. I know that you and my dad were close—like, closer than close—before mom had me."

"It had nothing to do with you," I lie, because Janel turning up pregnant was exactly why everything happened the way it did .

It probably would have happened eventually. I can't imagine Mik would have traded me out for my sister and flaunted our relationship to the world. He'd just gotten his first taste of something new and exciting. The novelty would have worn off, and then things would have been awkward. He'd have turned into yet another ‘straight' guy that wouldn't be able to look me in the eye in public when he was done experimenting and realized the realities of an out gay relationship.

Especially in this small southern town, I got a lot of looks and bullshit for being out and kept mostly to myself. Mik knew that. Hell, he'd thrown more than one punch at an opposing teammate or random homophobic asshole in my defense. Just because he defended me doesn't mean he'd want to live it. And when the shit hit the fan that morning, and I sat down to think about it, I knew I couldn't handle watching him pretend we were nothing. I was already afraid that he'd change his mind, but once Janel dropped that bomb, I knew he would.

"Well, something happened. If it wasn't me, what was it?"

"It's complicated." I don't have an answer for him other than that.

Jase drains the rest of his beer and crosses his arms over his chest, thumbing the label on the bottle. Just when I think he's given up, he looks up at me with a penetrating gaze that I'm pretty sure was handed down by my ancestors. It's a genetic trait that my grandma passed down to my mother, who passed it to my sister, who apparently passed it to her son. The gaze that makes you feel like they can see through you and read all your thoughts.

"Because you were in love with him."

It's a statement, not a question. A probe into my inner secrets that dares me to lie to his face. His face that looks so much like Mik's at his age, with the exception of that damn glare burning into my soul. I feel certain he can see the truth, so I try to find an answer that will satisfy him.

"They didn't need me complicating things," I say, forcefully peeling my gaze away from him. I grab a fresh beer and crack it open, looking into the depths of the bottle like it can save me from this conversation.

"Whatever happened back then doesn't matter. What matters is that you are loved so fucking much, and not one person regrets you coming into our lives. Your birth changed everything, yes, but in a good way. Everything is exactly how it's supposed to be."

Jase doesn't look impressed by my declaration.

"Except he was in love with you, too."

I snort and nearly choke on my beer but try to play it off like I think it's funny. "Oh yeah? How do you figure?"

"He doesn't join us on our calls, but he listens in and thinks we don't notice. Whenever anyone talks about you, or when we watch your matches on TV, he pays such close attention you'd think he had a vested personal interest. He makes a point to show how little he cares, but it's so obvious that he's trying to cover up just how much he really does care."

"None of that means anything. We had a past. He was my best friend. We did everything together, but we drifted apart. It's happened with a lot of friends that have gone the family route. They leave us bachelors behind."

"Just admit that you were more than friends."

I rub my hand over my face, trying to think of a way to change the conversation. Entertaining this conversation with my nephew, of all people, is insane. "Jase–"

"Don't patronize me, Uncle J. I'm not an idiot."

"Even if it were true, even if any of this had merit, what makes you think it matters? The past is in the past. Mik is a married man, and your father. He's married to my sister. "

Honestly, it's a reminder I needed to give myself. The way I acted last night, the anger and jealousy I felt seeing him cozied up on the porch swing with Janel—it's fucking stupid. He's a married man.

"And he's fucking miserable!" Jase snaps a little loudly.

I'm thrown back at his tone. I cut my eyes towards everyone else to see if anyone noticed his little outburst. Janel and Mom have retired into the house to get the side dishes ready, and Dad is filling a plate with grilled chicken. Mik holds the plate, watching us with furrowed brows.

"Can you keep it down? You're being ridiculous."

"They aren't right for each other. I think it's always been obvious, but it's not until the past couple of days that I've figured out why."

My eyes lock with Mik's again, as he passes us on his way into the house with the plate full of food. My dad calls for me and Jase to come eat. I stand up and head their way, grateful for an excuse to put this conversation behind us.

"You're still in love with each other," Jase calls out behind me.

I spin around and shush him, looking around to see if anyone heard him. It's unlikely, considering we're outside and the back door is shut. It was a knee jerk reaction. I panicked.

By the knowing smirk on my nephew's face, I've all but proved his theories.

"You don't know what you're talking about. You're still a kid, Jase."

"I'm legally an adult, nearly the same age Mom and Dad were when they had me. I'm also not blind."

Sighing, both exasperated and sad, I put my hands on his shoulders and hold his eyes, hoping I carry even a fraction of the gene that makes a stare something to be taken seriously .

"I did love your father once. But that was a long time ago, and it was a stupid crush. You coming along was the best thing to ever happen to any of us, Jase. It gave us you. You deviously smart little shit," I say, ruffling his hair like he's twelve and not eighteen years old. "But it was also a dose of reality. It set me straight."

Jase snorts. My lips twist into a wry smirk.

"Okay, well, not straight…"

He laughs and thankfully lets it go so we can go inside and eat. The air-conditioning blasts cold air over me as I step inside, helping me sober and focus on putting my mask back in place. I thought I was more subtle. Then again, if I can see behind Mik's mask, I suppose it makes sense that someone could see behind mine.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly enough, and I keep my mask in place while I laugh and joke with Dad. I barely even let it slip when Mom cries about me leaving again on our way out and makes me promise I won't stay away as long this time. They're getting too old to make the trip very often, and I'm ashamed that it's taken me this long to visit. Then again, I was right that I wouldn't handle it well. Only, instead of having a massive tantrum and breaking everything in sight, I'm bending my brother-in-law over trees in the backyard while my sister looks for him. Instead of holding onto my anger and forcing myself to remain stoic and uncaring, all my walls are falling and I'm losing my will to keep up the pretense.

I need to talk to Mik. I need to apologize for pushing him, for being the instigator to taking this too far. For jeopardizing the entire life he's built for himself. And I need to put a stop to it.

But I won't. I know myself better than that, and I'm fucking weak. What I can do is make sure he understands that this stops the moment I get on that plane. Then we go back to our lives, back to pretending that nothing ever happened between us. Back to dreaming about what life could have been.

If he'd chosen me.