𝐹𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑋𝑜𝑛𝑒

𝐿𝑋𝑉𝐼

Then my phone rang, snapping me out of my thoughts. I stood facing the stove, flipping the last slice of French toast. The sound pulled my attention, and I turned my head to see my phone vibrating on the countertop of Janet's kitchen island. Jared's name lit up the screen.

I reached for the phone, but before I could grab it, I felt Janet's hands slide around my waist.

The buzzing faded into the background as her touch anchored me. She snuggled her head into the crook of my neck, her warm breath tickling my skin. Her body pressed against mine from behind, radiating comfort. "The French toast smells so good," she murmured. "I can already taste it."

She kissed my cheek softly, and I smiled, setting the spatula down and turning toward her.

Still holding onto me, she stepped aside to grab a plate from the counter. I took the spatula and carefully transferred the French toast onto it. Janet moved to one of the cabinets, reaching for the syrup on the top shelf.

I couldn't help but watch her, studying her every move. I needed to know what was on her mind. Lately, it felt like there was so much unsaid between us, and it was starting to gnaw at me.

As she poured syrup onto the French toast, a drop landed on her finger. She licked it off with a quick flick of her tongue before glancing at me, catching me staring.

"What?" she asked with a soft giggle.

I folded my arms across my chest, leaning against the counter. "Tyra said we're all over the tabloids."

Her smile faded instantly, and her eyes dropped to the plate in front of her. "I'm not surprised. Are you?"

I hesitated. "I—I wasn't expecting it to happen so fast," I admitted, my voice faltering.

"They're always fast," she said with a dry laugh, looking at me with a knowing glint. "Especially when it comes to me."

"Does it bother you?" I asked, my voice softer now.

Her gaze lingered on the plate as she let out a small sigh. "Yeah, it does," she admitted. "But someone once told me they're going to talk about me either way—good or bad. I just have to live my life."

Her words made my heart ache a little. "You know you can always talk to me, right? I want us to be transparent with each other."

"I'm trying," she said with a faint smile, her vulnerability showing. "This is all new to me." She paused for a moment before adding, "You know, after I came out, Michael called me." Her expression softened, a warmth spreading across her face. "He was the first one out of my family to reach out. He said he was listening to the radio when it happened."

I tilted my head curiously. "What did he say?" I asked, stepping closer and wrapping my arms gently around her waist. I rested my chin on her shoulder, my eyes locked on her lips as she spoke.

"He was very supportive," she said, her voice growing quieter. "Hearing his voice made me feel...safe."

My brows furrowed slightly. "You didn't feel safe coming out?"

She shook her head and then choked back a small sob. "No," she whispered, her voice breaking.

"Aw, baby," I murmured, pulling her closer into my embrace. She turned into me, burying her face in my chest.

"I'm proud of you for facing your fears," I said softly, stroking her back as she clung to me.

She nodded against my chest, her breathing evening out. "Thank you," she whispered.

We stood there in the quiet kitchen, wrapped in each other's warmth, the world and its noise fading into the background.

"Did you hear from your mother and Joseph?" I asked softly, still holding her close.