“Or not,” Dylan went on softly.
Tyler knew why having the parents attend the reception was a problem, but not Dylan. The ex knew, and Dylan didn’t have a fucking clue. The realization annoyed the hell out of him. And the fault clearly belonged to Dylan.
Alec dropped his hands to his side. “I purchased a new mirror for my bike. I’ll go get it from my car.”
He disappeared out the side door leading to the driveway, and Dylan stared after him. He could spot the evasive maneuver from a mile away, especially since his personal superpower was Avoidance. Dylan was still debating what to do about Alec when he returned to the garage, a rearview mirror in his hand.
“You want some help?” Dylan asked.
“No,” Alec said. “I can handle this.”
From his squatting position in front of his motorcycle, Dylan watched Alec push his Harley closer to Dylan and the workbench. And while he wasn’t the handiest person with tools, he’d definitely gotten better with a little instruction. He could do simple things now and replacing the mirror was definitely one of them.
Alec’s accomplishment left Dylan feeling so friggin’ satisfied it was ridiculous, and the last thing he wanted was to ruin the mood with a heavy discussion.
At the thought, Dylan’s throat grew tight enough to choke him.
But ignoring Alec’s mood hardly seemed fair. Talking about Rick the day of his birthday had gone a long way toward keeping Dylan from losing his mind. Fucking the life out of Alec had helped as well. Alec deserved some sort of outlet too, and words appeared to be his tool of choice.
“The award is a big deal,” Dylan said.
“I know.”
When Alec didn’t go on, Dylan prompted him again. “You should be proud.”
“I am.”
Alec’s response was followed by a minute of silence.
With a sigh, Dylan rested his arm on his knee. “Then why don’t you want your family here?”
Alec unscrewed the clamp that held the cracked mirror with more attention than the process required. “My mother adored—adores—Tyler.” His hand stilled as he met Dylan’s gaze. “And she’s…uh…having a hard time letting go.”
“She’ll have to figure out how on her own. You can’t do it for her.”
Alec’s hand paused briefly before going on with his task, his breath escaping in a rush. “I wish the issue was that simple.”
Clamp now loose, Alec removed the old mirror. Dylan waited patiently for Alec to continue as he screwed the new one in place. Just when Dylan thought Alec had decided the discussion was over, the man went on.
Alec checked the stability of the mirror. “She attended just about every protest in three counties, hoping to end Proposition 8. Worked harder than anyone I know to gain me and Tyler the right to marry.” He stared at the handlebar, and then, with a small huff, he tossed the screwdriver back onto the utility table. “And now, of course, that’s not going to happen.”
“Dude, she’ll adjust.”
“I owe her a lot.”
“You don’t owe her your personal life.”
Alec briefly pressed his eyes closed. “Being a teenager sucks. Being a gay teen makes the phase a million times worse.” Hands on his waist, Alec scanned his motorcycle as if looking for something else to fix. “I was in a dark place when I came out to my parents.”
The statement settled in Dylan’s gut, leaving him sick at the thought of a depressed Alec. Dylan stood and settled his hip against the workbench, searching for the right thing to say. As usual, words failed him.
“My mom’s not your typical mother,” Alec went on with a wry smile. “She finds showing affection…difficult. But every afternoon when I came home from school, she’d prop a new piece of literature or a pamphlet on my desk. Usually something about adolescent gays.” Blue eyes ticked back to Dylan’s, and Alec’s smile faded. “For a while, those handouts and her wordless support were the only things standing between me and succumbing to the self-loathing.”
The desolate words triggered another painful twitch in Dylan’s chest.
“I owe her more than I can ever repay,” Alec said.
Dylan should be working out how to escape the upcoming talk about their “future.” He should be leaving, but anything that interfered with Alec’s smile and the resulting crinkles had to be shut down. And pronto. The longer he spent looking at Alec’s expression, the harder Dylan’s heart hurt, and the more he felt the need to fix the situation.
Sadly, the only way he knew was to replace Alec’s defeated look with one of desire.
Jesus, Dylan, you really are a pathetic bastard.
Dylan stepped forward, placing his hand on Alec’s torso. The turbulent look in Alec’s gaze slowly eased as Dylan slid his palm down to cup Alec’s dick.
“What are you doing?” Alec said.
“If you have to ask, I’m not doing it right.”