Fake Friends - Saxon James Page 0,75

is that you try. If you try this for us, and it doesn’t work, when you get back, it will be our turn. We’ll accept you, and … your partner.”

He can’t even say Circus’s name. “And if I don’t go?”

The despair on his face recedes. “Then this is it for us. Standing by while you do nothing would not make us responsible parents. If you won’t even try and rid yourself of this thing, what do you expect us to do?”

Love me anyway?

The thing is, I understand though. I don’t want to—I fucking hate that I do. But all these years I’ve been trying to deny myself have been directly linked to their exact same thought process. We’re all so fucking brainwashed.

It’s taken me years to get to a point where I finally want to accept who I am. How long is it going to take them?

If I don’t do this, I’ll lose them. Yes, Piper and Leita will still be here for me, but these are my parents.

What if I went? It’d be a few months at the most, then I’d come back and they’d have to hold up their end of the deal. By Christmas, everything could be exactly the way I’ve always wished it would be and never dared to actually believe.

But it would mean leaving Circus. Even for only a short time, it’s the last thing I want to do.

But do I really have a choice?

My phone rings and I hurry to answer.

“I think you need to get down here now.”

I frown at Leon’s supposed greeting. “What are you talking about?”

“Rowan’s at Harvey’s, and he’s sitting with his parents and Father O’Connor. He looked like he was shitting himself.”

“The priest? Jules’s dad?”

“Yup. Now get off your ass and come save your boyfriend.”

My mouth actually falls open as I lower my phone from my ear and end the call.

What the fuck are his parents playing at?

Rowan said he was going to meet them, but he didn’t mention anything about Father O’Connor. So either they’ve completely blindsided him with it, or … he kept it from me.

I’m kind of terrified of what that means, but I can’t believe that Rowan is wanting back in the closet. He wouldn’t. He knows that doesn’t work.

But he said he wants to do this on his own.

My brain feels stuck as I make for my bedroom and fall face-first onto the bed.

This is too much.

Part of me wishes Leon hadn’t called because the concern in his voice … I bury my head under a pillow.

Rowan’s gay. I know that. He knows that. And what we have is so electric, I don’t want to let it go.

But would he?

Sure, I want to believe things are great, but with his family barely speaking to him … will he work out that life with me will be a thousand times more complicated than the one he was pretending to live?

It’s a harsh question maybe, but knowing what he’s been through, it’s a legitimate one.

And …

Well, can he have a life with me?

This movie offer is the biggest opportunity I’ve ever had. It would be borderline certifiable for me to turn it down. Especially for Rowan who, at this point, could still be a total flight risk.

I want him. Hell, I fucking love him.

But is it enough?

If I turn down the movie and he leaves, it would leave me with no movie, no Rowan, and the followers I’ve built because of our relationship would slowly dwindle away.

I’d be back to having nothing.

Panic seizes me, and I hurry to sit up and breathe through it. The bone-numbing loneliness is always lurking just beneath the surface, and even though Rowan has been a bandage for that, I’m terrified he’ll rip the bandage away and I’ll be left exposed. Alone.

This movie … I’d make more friends, expand my reach, potentially sign on for more of the same, and the more popular I get, the more certain it is I’ll always have people around.

Always.

Just … not Rowan.

And he’s the one I want.

The only one.

The awareness seeps through my desperate thoughts.

I moved away from people for a reason. I needed that barrier for protection while I built myself back up, but a family’s the end goal. It’s always been the end goal.

The thought of having that with Rowan actually lights me up inside.

It stills the panic in a way that nothing else does.

But it’s a huge gamble.

I swallow and glance at my 8-Ball. It hasn’t steered me wrong before.

I pick it