“Evan, please, lower your voice. Your father isn’t suggesting that you were the one who started things back then, but you’re a grown man now. A man with a chip on his shoulder and a lot of political power.”
I’d just taken a sip of soda. Her comment made me sputter and cough. “Oh yes, I’m wielding all kinds of political clout,” I sniggered, wiping soda from my chin. My parents were not amused. A sigh rippled out of me. “Look, can everyone just calm down about Gideon Pierce? We’re both adults now. I have no plans to get anywhere near him but if our paths do cross while he’s in town, I’ll be polite. I’m always polite. I’m the nice gay kid, remember? The one who’d sooner carry a spider outside than simply step on it. Everything will be fine. Do you have enough for three? I only had an apple for lunch.”
Mom and Dad exchanged dubious looks then my mother chided me for not eating protein during the day to keep my brain energized. Once a teacher, always a teacher. I sat down as another plate was added to the same table I’d eaten at as a child. The conversation neatly moved from Gideon Pierce to something less volatile. Defunding public education. I’d brought that up to lead the two educators from my old nemesis showing up like that proverbial bad penny. Mom and Dad both fired off like TNT instantly, as I knew they would. I sat back, sipping my diet ginger ale, and nodding at the rants taking place on either side of me, my mind half here and half on the reasoning for why Gideon might be in town and how long he planned on staying. I’d learned a long time ago that forewarned was forearmed when it came to Gideon Pierce.
Chapter Two
Two days later I was woefully forearmed.
My bad. Still, all in all, I’d not expected to literally run into Gideon Pierce at the pumpkin judging contest at the elementary school. If anything I would have expected him to fly out of the bushes that lined Mrs. Cooks’ yard. That was one of his favorite ambush sites back in the day. So, when I’d made it past Mrs. Cooks’ yard, and the barking peke-a-poo that tried to gnaw off my ankle, I’d considered myself safe. Schoolyards were always safe. Ask any kid. Teachers milling around, the principal lurking about. No kid was going to bully another kid on such sacred ground.
Still, when I was wrapped up in making a final call on some utterly amazing painted pumpkins, there he was. My heart clawed its way into my throat and lodged there. I cleared the obstruction as kids from kindergarten to sixth grade awaited the judge’s final picks for their age groups. My gaze flickered from pumpkin to Gideon. What was he doing here? Why was he staring at me like a vulture? When had he had his teeth fixed? Why was he so damn handsome? I’d never really noticed until now how the Pierce men had that old-time movie matinee look going for them. Broody, dark, handsome, troubled. Tony Curtis. Yes. He did have a Tony Curtis look about him. How unfair was that? Shouldn’t bullies be ugly? The toxins inside should corrupt their faces and souls. Just like an evil sorcerer.
He never moved from his spot over by the wall, just stood there, long duster coat, wind tousled hair, dark shark eyes following me, a smirky little smile on his lips. The urge to lob a pumpkin at his smug mug was strong, but I held myself in check. The kids had worked hard on their Jack-o’-lanterns. Still, seeing him with pumpkin guts on his face would be freaking amazing.
“Hey, you okay?” Aubrey asked when he appeared at my side. I smiled, patted a pumpkin who resembled Darth Vader, or I thought it was supposed to be Darth Vader, and moved along to the next table in the cafeteria.
“I’m fine. Just had a sour taste in my mouth.” Teachers and administrators milled around me, talking at me as I chucked chins and shook small, sweaty hands. Aubrey stayed close, his phone in his hand, snapping pictures as we went for social media postings. After this, he would lead me to something else on my agenda. A meeting with wastewater management at the sewage facility on the outskirts of town if memory served. Then a luncheon with the