Weight of Silence(10)
“And a glass of eggnog.”
His stomach twisted at the idea of drinking the sticky, sweet concoction that he used to love. “Okay.”
“That’s why you’re my favorite son.”
“I’m your only son.”
“Details, details.”
The familiar banter made him smile. He allowed her to hustle him downstairs into the crush of bodies and melody of Old Blue Eyes singing “White Christmas.” Sinatra made him think immediately of Gavin Perez, who naturally appeared instantly in Jace’s line of sight. Gavin was in the far corner of the living room chatting with Rachel. Rachel looked up first, and then Gavin followed suit. As soon as Gavin’s coffee-colored eyes met Jace’s, a crush of guilt settled around him. Guilt for ignoring Gavin’s calls and texts for the past few weeks with no explanation.
Jace expected anger or annoyance from Gavin, but Gavin simply watched him with an expression full of curiosity. Then Gavin nodded and returned to his conversation with Rachel. Feeling oddly dismissed, Jace turned and headed for the kitchen. Fewer people hung out there than in the living room and den, and it was empty when he walked in. Extra platters of desserts and cookies waiting to be served lined the counter.
He ignored the treats and poured himself a glass of water from the filtered pitcher in the fridge. The fridge door fell shut, and Jace nearly dropped his glass when he saw Gavin standing there like a phantom.
“Christ, Gavin, don’t sneak around like that,” Jace said.
“I didn’t sneak,” Gavin said mildly. “I walked in.”
Jace clutched the cold glass in his suddenly sweaty palm. If only Gavin wasn’t so good looking, he’d be easier to ignore. And if only Jace didn’t get this warm quiver inside when Gavin smiled at him—like he wasn’t smiling at him right now. He hated seeing Gavin look so…disinterested. Thanksgiving weekend had been so fucking awesome, and Jace had gone and ruined it.
Gavin reached out and poked him gently in the shoulder, like he was testing a loaf of bread for doneness. “Just checking,” he said.
“For what?”
“Making sure you’re still alive. I mean, in a town like this, I figure I’d have heard if you died, but you did kind of disappear off the face of the Verizon network for a while.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.” Apologizing now, after he’d been back in town for three days, felt ultra lame, but it was all Jace had. “Finals really got to me, and then I had to change my phone number.”
“Why’d you have to do that?”
Ice skated down Jace’s spine and his insides twisted up tight. He put the glass of water down before he broke it and told the same version of the truth he’d told his parents and sisters. “I kept getting these obnoxious anonymous texts and calls on my cell. I’d block a number and a new one would pop up, so I finally changed the number.”
“Some people need real hobbies.” Gavin’s face turned serious. He bent his head a bit and lowered his voice when he asked, “When you say obnoxious, do you mean, like, bashing?”
The instant “no” froze in Jace’s throat. He’d had no problems lying about this to his family, so why did he have the oddest urge to be honest with Gavin? They barely knew each other. Only not really. Their lives had intertwined in Stratton for a decade, but Gavin had never shown him the kind of attention and interest that he’d shown back at Thanksgiving. Jace had known he was gay since the start of his senior year of high school, even though he hadn’t told anyone or acted on those feelings beyond a few experimental kisses and gropes—not until Gavin. He didn’t know what to make of Gavin or of his own reactions to the older boy.
Jace reached for the lie and forced it out. “All basic college crap,” he said. “But it got too distracting.”
“Got it.”
After a moment of awkward silence, Jace blurted out, “So are you here alone?” First stupid question of the night and probably not his last.
Gavin’s face got soft and happy, which sent an instant—and unexpected—flare of jealously through Jace. “I’m not. I came with a beautiful older woman, as a matter of fact.”
It took Jace a few seconds to catch on, and then he laughed. “Your mom. Duh.”
“Duh. What about you? You bring some handsome hunk home in your back pocket?”
“No.” Had he said that too quickly? “I mean—” Jace glanced around, but they were still alone in the kitchen and the Sinatra album had changed over to Billie Holliday. He lowered his voice to a whisper. “My family doesn’t know yet.”