Secrets & Lies

32| Flood Gates

I glanced at my phone again for the eightieth time. Still no return call from Grant. He probably listened to my voicemail—or didn't—and wanted nothing to do with me after what happened at the cabin. Maybe it was for the best. I had enough to deal with right now. I had to think of what to tell my parents. Not to mention, I still needed to confront—

Knock-knock-knock

I frowned as I walked to my front door. I looked through the peephole and groaned when I saw my brother on the other side. Great. Just the person I didn't want to talk to right now. I opened the door and greeted him with a look that was less than pleasing. 

"What are you doing here, Wyatt? I said I would call you when I was ready to talk."

Wyatt pushed his way into my apartment, not caring if I wanted him there or not. "I got tired of waiting." 

I shut my front door before turning towards him. I was trying desperately not to throw my brother out of my apartment right now. I wasn't in the mood to deal with him. Not yet. "Okay, you're here. What do you want to talk about?" 

Wyatt held my stare for several moments. His expression was blank and I didn't know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. "Why didn't you ever tell me?" 

"Tell you what?" 

"Don't pull that shit with me, Logan. You know what I'm talking about."

I walked into my kitchen and pulled two beers from the fridge. I held one out to Wyatt and he took it. I tried to think about the best way to proceed with this. I knew that if these flood gates opened, Wyatt and I were probably going to end up arguing. Possibly fighting. We've had a few brotherly fights over the years and one of us usually ended up with a bloody nose or a black eye. I didn't want that to happen. I didn't want any of this to happen. 

"What was you're reaction?" I asked quietly. "When Amelia told you I was gay?" For some reason I couldn't name, the answer to that question was important. 

Wyatt stalked around my living room. He continued back and forth, taking a swig of his beer every few seconds. When he finally stopped and faced me again, the tortured look in his eyes cut through me. "It fucking killed me. At first, I was shocked. I thought I knew you. You're my brother. Then I was pissed. I was so fucking pissed at you. I thought we were close. We always told each other everything. Then I found out you kept something like this from me? It crushed me!" 

Wyatt ran his hand over his face. "I don't care that you like guys, Logan. You're my brother—nothing will change that. But why didn't you tell me sooner?" 

Now it was my turn to do the pacing. I sat my beer on the counter and looked anywhere but at my little brother. The wall. That painting over there. The TV that was turned off. Anywhere. "Dad had plans for me."

"Yeah. You were supposed to join his team."

"Yes. But his company is built on the principals of family and shit like that. Marriage and everything that comes along with that stuff is a big deal." 

"So?" 

"So," I turned to him, "when was the last time you heard of a gay man working there? In the position that I was getting?" 

Wyatt looked away. He knew the answer as well as I did. Never. "Come on, Logan. You know dad isn't going to care. Neither is mom. They aren't like that." 

Wyatt was right. Our parents weren't the homophobic type. But that wasn't what had me worrying. I didn't care how they saw other people—I cared how they saw me.