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“What’s going on with you two?” Dad finally asked. “You’ve been acting strange since before you left for Nashville. Watts has a boyfriend we still haven’t met, he has all these bruises, gets into a fight with Rand Shepard, and now the two of you just want to up and move out? Something isn’t adding up here.”
Fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck.
I rubbed the ring over my shirt before I ripped my hand out of Watson’s. “I want my own place.” I stood up so fast my chair slammed against the wall. “I’m twenty-two damn years old. Why can’t you just accept this and move on?” I shouted. I hadn’t meant to get so angry, but I was sick and tired of everyone treating me like a child.
“Holt.” Mom flashed a smile. “Sweetie, why don’t you relax, sit down, and finish eating? No one is trying to force you to stay here if you don’t want to.” She turned to look at her husband. “Alex, please, if the boys want to get their own apartment, they should. They’re adults, just like Holt said, and maybe it’s time.”
Watson coughed nervously. “We, uh, already sort of signed a lease, so... whenever we’re ready we can move in,” he muttered.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Dad grunted. “You two... I seriously... You didn’t even think to ask...”
“Dad!” I exclaimed. “We didn’t have to ask your permission!”
He shook his head. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I would think you were...” He narrowed his eyes. “Are you?” he asked. “Watts, I love you like you were my own son, but if you’re doing what I think you are with my own boy, you need to come clean right now.”
Watson dropped his chin. “Sir, I... it’s not like that.”
“Get out of my house.”
“Alexander!” Mom cried. “What’s going on?” She looked between us and her husband. “You can’t kick them out.”
“I don’t need to kick them out, Joyce. They already have their own place,” Dad growled. “Leave your shit and get out before I remove you myself.” He stood up. “I can’t even look... How could you? I’m going to be sick.” He shook his head.
Watson stood up. “I love him.” He turned to me. “We love each other, right, baby?” He held out his hand, which I took without hesitation.
Joyce gasped. “Watts, sweetie, are you saying that you and Holt...” She looked between the two of us before she made the sign of the cross on her chest. Ironic, considering, we weren’t even religious.
“Get. Out,” Dad hissed. “Come back and get your crap when we’re not around. Just get the hell out of my sight.”
This wasn’t how we wanted things to go with our parents. We had hoped they would accept us, love us, because we loved one another, and yet here we were, running out of the house to Watson’s car as fast as we could because my dad was threatening to physically do it himself. The second we pulled out of the driveway, a sob burst from my throat, and I buried my face in my hands.
“Oh, hey, no, none of that.” Watson reached over to rub my shoulder. “Baby, it’s going to be okay. We just need to give them a little more time, that’s all.” He squeezed lightly. That only made me cry even harder. “Jesus.”
He kept his hand on my shoulder, and I felt the car begin to slow before it came to a stop. I heard the sound of the seat belt as he removed it. His door opened and closed, then mine opened. He unbuckled me and pried my hands from my face.
“Holt.” His voice was stern.
I stared into Watson’s dark eyes. “They hate us,” I choked out.
“They don’t, baby.” He pushed the hair from my forehead. “They’re just confused. They’re upset, but they don’t hate us.” Watson slipped his fingers beneath the collar of my shirt before he pulled out the necklace to expose the ring he’d given me. “I thought that would go better. I really did.” He gave me an apologetic smile.
“Me, too.” I sniffed.
Watson squatted down outside the car. “I have to ask because after how this went tonight, if you want to wait on coming out with everyone else, we can. If you’re afraid how the public is going to react...” He let his thoughts trail off as he stared at me.
I cupped his face with my hands, marveled at his beauty, because that’s what he was to me. Beautiful with his blond hair, chocolate brown eyes, and perfect face. His cheerful disposition, his killer smile, and positive attitude. Watson loved me. He’d picked me. He was mine, just like I had always dreamed.
“Doesn’t change how we feel about each other.” I dragged my thumbs over his glass-like cheekbones to watch his lids flutter. “If everyone hates us, wants to burn us at the stake, we still have each other,” I reminded him.
