Trevor did, before they rolled on their sides, away from each other, and went to sleep.

***

Simon’s stomach was in knots as he got out of his car. Trevor had already stepped out of the passenger side, and stood there waiting for him.

He’d told Trevor he would do this.

Part of him wanted to do this.

The other part didn’t know how.

He’d never felt comfortable with Heather’s family. Not in the way a family should. He spoke to her father, doctor to doctor. They spent holidays with them, and every one of them was spent with Simon tense. This wasn’t something he really knew how to do.

“You okay?” Trevor asked, his brows pulled together as they so often were.

“Yes.” Only he wasn’t sure he was. How could he do this? Give part of himself to Trevor? Meet family, laugh, smile and pretend he was the kind of man who knew how to really be intimate with someone?

And they were doing it in public. Would people know that Simon and Trevor were together? Did he care about that? In college it had been about sex, and nothing more. It had all been behind closed doors, but this was different.

“If you don’t want to do this, don’t. I’ll be fine. I don’t need you here holding my hand.” Trevor’s voice sounded as cut-off as Simon felt. Did he not want Simon here either? If neither of them thought they were ready for this, maybe that would work better.

“I—”

“Trevor!” a woman’s voice cut Simon’s off. They looked at each other, both realizing it was too late.

Simon’s eyes darted up to see a woman who...didn’t look much older than he was. She had dark hair like Trevor did, hers long and hanging halfway down her back, tied back in a ponytail. He noticed strands of gray here and there, but that was the only indication of her age. She dressed simply in a pair of jeans and a button-down shirt.

Jesus. What were they doing? He could just as easily be here with Trevor’s mom as he was with Trevor. Probably more easily.

He wasn’t sure why he’d imagined Trevor’s mom older—maybe the fact that she hadn’t remarried; but the closer she got, the more it was obvious that she had to be under fifty.

Blake stood beside her. He gave Simon a tight smile as she reached out and hugged Trevor. “Hey you,” she said.

“Hey, Mom.” Trevor pulled back. “This is my friend Simon. Simon, this is my mom, Tiffany.”

Her eyebrows pulled together the same way Trevor’s often did. Was it his age, he wondered? Was she as surprised as he was that they could very likely be closer in age than Simon and Trevor were? It ate at him, knowing how young Trevor was. Would she think Simon was taking advantage of him? That Simon was too old for him? Did he care?

“Hi, Simon. It’s so nice to meet you.” Simon froze up as she pulled him into a hug the same way she had Trevor. No, this definitely wasn’t him. He didn’t do this. He sure as hell never hugged his own father, and he remembered hugging Heather’s mom one time—on their wedding day.

“It’s nice to meet you as well.” Simon heard the stiffness in his own voice.

“Let go of the man, would ya? You’re acting like I introduced you to my future husband.” Trevor obviously meant the words to break up the tension, but all they did was made it thicker.

Simon rubbed his right hand when Tiffany stepped backward. “I’m sorry. I’ve never met one of your boyfriends before. I got a little excited. A mom is entitled.”

Boyfriend. Simon closed his eyes, pulling in a deep breath. He was a boyfriend. He’d only ever been that to Heather...and now, on top of it all, he suddenly had a boyfriend of his own.

What the hell had he been thinking doing this?

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Trevor felt like he was in a box, an invisible box that no one else could see, yet he couldn’t get out of it. It moved with him, getting smaller and smaller as he walked and talked with people. As he said hi to friends of his mom’s, the owner of the beauty shop that he’d busted out a window in when he’d been twenty-one and drunk. His math teacher who caught him smoking marijuana behind the gym his senior year. They all looked at him and smiled, yet he felt the disdain.

They knew a lot of his stories.

They’d seen the pain he put his mom and Blake through.

They had every right to look at him as though they didn’t trust him. Each of them that he passed, each of them who gave him a fake smile, sucked more and more air out of the invisible box surrounding him.

“So, how long have you been in town, Simon?” his mom asked.