by F. T. Lukens
“You have an abuela and a meemaw?”
Leo shrugged. “My mom is from Virginia. My dad is Puerto Rican. It would be weird if I didn’t have an abuela and a meemaw.”
“Huh. Point taken.”
“Hey!” Astrid yelled. “Turn around and smile, losers. One last picture before we’re out of here!”
“We better do what she says,” Bridger said, turning.
“Or we could do this.”
Bridger squawked in surprise when Leo grabbed him, dipped him, and kissed him in front of the school, but he couldn’t argue with the results, especially when the picture became the most liked ever on Astrid’s social media.
* * *
The weekend and the following school week found Bridger, Astrid, and Leo camped out on the couch, eating junk food, and catching up on all the cool movies and TV shows they’d missed due to school, jobs, and baseball games. Sometimes Luke would come over as well, and on those days Astrid and Luke would snuggle on one side of the couch, while Leo and Bridger tried to out-cute them on the other. Sometimes it was just Leo and Bridger, and on those days they didn’t watch much television. With baseball officially over, Midden having won the state championship, Leo had more free time than he’d had since senior year began. They made the most of it.
Bridger’s wound healed within a few days thanks to the pixies’ magic, and Bridger kept in touch with Pavel through the mirror. True to her word, Summer and Matt had left Midden, and Bridger could finally relax.
The general lack of structure to Bridger’s days allowed graduation to sneak up on him. All too soon, it was Saturday morning, and his mom ran around the house cleaning because there would be people coming over and she had it in her head that they would judge her based on the dust on the picture frames.
But that also meant Bridger’s first interaction with his dad since the night of the newspaper reveal, and if Bridger wasn’t already nervous over having to walk across a stage and accept his diploma, then having to face his dad would’ve done it. As it was, he didn’t think he could get more anxious, so his dad’s arrival was merely icing on the anxiety cake.
Bridger slipped his graduation robe over his shoulders and zipped it. Underneath he wore slacks and a collared shirt and a tie. His dress shoes pinched his feet, and his hair wouldn’t stay down no matter what he did to it. Oh well, at least he had a hat to wear.
“Bridger! You’re going to be late for your own graduation!”
He checked his phone as he descended the stairs. “Mom, I have an hour before I have to be there. I’m fine.”
She smoothed the robe along his shoulders. “Well, I’m not. So give me a minute to look at you and be proud before I ruin my makeup.”
Bridger held out his arms and twirled. “Do I look okay?”
“You look so grown up.”
“Oh no, don’t start that. I’m just as grown up as I was at my birthday and at prom.”
She yanked a tissue from a nearby box and dabbed at her eyes. “I know. Okay? But this is a big milestone for you, my baby, my darling son, my love nugget.”
“You have literally never called me your love nugget and please do not do it again. Not in front of anyone. Ever.”
“Drama king.”
“Okay, please get this out of your system before everyone shows up.”
She narrowed her eyes but sighed. “Fine. I’ll weep later.”
“Thank you.”
Bridger opened the door and stepped out onto the front lawn. It was a bright, warm day in Midden, and he enjoyed it until his dad pulled up in front of the house. A moment later, Elena swung into their driveway, and he thanked a deity that she had decided to drive and not Pavel. And across the street, Leo’s front door opened, and the Riveras tumbled out, abuela and aunties and uncles and cousins in a massive group heading for a rented van.
All at once, Bridger had his boss and his werewolf friend and his dad and his boyfriend and his boyfriend’s extended family bearing down on him. It was the perfect fucking storm.
“This was a bad idea,” Bridger whispered to his mom, who gripped his shoulder. “Why did I think this was a good idea?”
“They all love you,” his mom said. “They’re all here to celebrate you, so chill out, my love nugget, and let the adults be responsible for their own behavior.” She plastered on a smile as his dad approached. “Braxton, glad to see you could make it.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss Bud’s graduation.”
Her expression darkened. “Like you missed every other milestone in his life thus far?”
Yeah, this was starting out great.
Elena’s car door opened, and Pavel stepped out, and, and, what the hell? Pavel was dressed normally, well, normally for a graduation. He wore a suit that matched and shoes that also matched. His hair was tamed, and his tie was straight, and his suit fit him the way suits are meant to fit.
Elena caught Bridger’s wide eyes and winked. She was also dressed appropriately. She wore a cute sundress that flounced when she walked and strappy sandals. And her long hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail, and her makeup was understated but gorgeous. Did this mean they both knew how to dress for an occasion, and they regularly chose not to?
Mind blown.
And together, Elena’s arm looped through Pavel’s, they were breathtaking as they strode down the little walkway to where Bridger and his parents stood in terse silence.
Oh wow. Yeah. Definitely bi. And now to never admit to thinking thoughts like that about his boss and his boss’s best friend ever, ever, ever. “You made it,” Bridger said, breaking into a smile.
“Of course.” Pavel reeled Bridger in for a quick, sloppy hug. “We wouldn’t miss it.”
When Pavel released Bridger, his dad shouldered forward. He stuck out his hand. “Paul, was it?”
“Pavel.” Pavel corrected, politely, giving the offered hand a firm shake.
“What is that? German?”
“Not quite.” He gestured to his side. “This is my friend, Elena.”
His dad’s gaze raked over Elena, and there was no way Elena missed the appraisal. No one did. All he needed was a leer and a mustache to twirl. Bridger doubted he’d be so blatant if he—one—respected Pavel at all and—two—knew that Elena was the Beast of Bray Road and could eviscerate him if she wanted. Since neither was the case, he came off as gross, and, yep, everything was going super-well judging by his mom’s epic scowl.
This was a powder keg. All that was missing was a match. And lo, the match bounded across the yard in his own gown, grinning widely. Leo greeted the group of adults that he knew then turned to Bridger’s dad, hand out.
“Hi, I’m Leo.”
“Dad, this is my boyfriend,” Bridger said. “From the paper.”
His dad didn’t smile, but he at least he shook Leo’s hand. “Congratulations on graduating high school today.”
“Thank you, Mr. Whitt.”
“Dad, Leo is going to attend State on a baseball scholarship. He, uh, he’s really good. He’s the reason Midden High won the state championship this year.”
Leo blushed and clutched his mortarboard in both hands. “It’s a team sport, Bridge. It wasn’t just me.”
“He’s modest too.”
His dad didn’t say anything, merely put his hands in his pockets. There was a moment of silence, and Leo’s smile wavered. Bridger wouldn’t have that, so he knocked the back of his fingers into Leo’s arm.
“Hey, uh, my dad has the camera equipment out and ready if you want to cross the street and have some pictures done before we go.”
“Yeah, sure. Sounds good. But maybe tell abuela to, um, not kiss me so much this time. I still have lip prints from the other night.” Meeting Leo’s abuela had gone far better than Bridger could’ve imagined, much better than whatever this travesty was turning out to be.
“I make no promises.”
They stared at each other, and Bridger really wanted to leave his own lip prints on Leo, but his dad was right there. Leo bent and glanced to the side, and they settled for a weird, awkward hug thing.
“I’ll be right over.”
“Okay. See you in a minute.” Leo nodded at the adults. “Bye Ms. Whitt, Mr. Whitt, Pavel, Elena.” And then he was off like a rocket.
“He’s a sweet kid,” Elena said, demurely. “I see why you like him, Bridger.”
Pavel put his hands in his pockets. “Yes, a very likeable young man.”
Bridger’s dad tensed. “I guess you encouraged the relationship.”
“I didn’t discourage it?” Pavel said, the end of the sentence tilting up in a question. He squirmed, and his long fingers tugged at the knot in his tie. “But I don’t meddle in Bridger’s life outside of work. He is very capable of making his own decisions, which is why he’s an excellent assistant.”
“Who are you again?” Bridger’s dad asked, gaze sweeping over Pavel’s frame.
“I’m Bridger’s boss.”
“Yeah, his boss. Not his dad.”
Uh, what is happening?
Pavel straightened from his slouch and met Braxton’s gaze with an even stare. “No, I’m not. I apologize if I overstepped. I’m well aware Bridger has a positive adult influence in his life since his mother has done such a fine job on her own.”
Oh. Burn.
“Excuse me?” His dad took a step forward. Elena inserted herself between them, lip curling in a close approximation of a snarl.
“Hey, could we stop with the dick measuring contest for a minute.” Bridger grabbed his dad’s arm. “First, Elena would win. Easily. Hands down.” Her red lips pulled into a feral grin. “And second, this is my graduation day, and I’d prefer it if we all calmed the fuck down.”
His dad bristled. “Bridger! Watch your mouth!”
“Hey,” his mom yelled. “Don’t yell at him. He’s anxious about graduating. You’re not helping.”
“You let our son talk this way? In front of you and guests?”
“Oh, so now you want to parent?”
Pavel paled. “Maybe, we should all take a breath. Bridger, would you like us to—”
“Oh, I don’t get to parent, but you let this guy do it? Christ, Susan. You’ve lost control of him. No wonder our kid is gay.”
Everyone froze.
The words punched Bridger right in the stomach. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He clenched his fingers in his robe, right over his heart. The fabric was rough between his fingers. Beneath his shirt, he touched the hard oval of Saint Dymphna.
His mom exploded. “What the hell did you just say?”
“You heard me.”
They erupted into a screaming match, hurling a decade of pent-up insults, quips, and witty rejoinders at each other in front of God and the entire neighborhood.
Heat crept into Bridger’s face as the Riveras watched from their driveway. Pavel tugged on his collar, and Elena’s plush mouth dropped open at a particularly vicious turn of phrase.
Yeah, not embarrassing at all. Okay. Time to be an adult. Time to step in. Time to take my own advice.
Bridger cleared his throat and wedged between them. “Hey, can you guys not? It’s my graduation, and you’re embarrassing me.”
His mom snapped her mouth shut and put her hands on her cheeks. “Oh, Bridger. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—”
“It’s okay, Mom. Why don’t you all head for the cars. I’m going to talk to Dad here and join you in a minute.”
His mom cast him a glance, but he nodded in reassurance. Bridger waited until they all were out of earshot, even Elena. It was the longest minute of Bridger’s life, even after all the things he’d been through, but it allowed him to gather his wits and his strength.
He faced his dad. “I think we need to talk. Seriously. Adult to adult.”
His father looked contrite, shoulders hunched, hands in his pockets. “Hey, Bud, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said—”
“I think you should leave.” Bridger’s heart pounded in his ears. His skin went clammy. His vision darkened at the edges. He might pass out, but not until after he said what he needed. “Today I want to celebrate the people who have helped me grow and get this far and graduate high school. And that means Mom. And that means Pavel and Elena and Astrid and Leo and the Riveras. That doesn’t mean you.”
He frowned. “I’m your dad. I came all this way to see you. I’ve been here for weeks, and you haven’t bothered to try and spend time with me.”
“Yeah, you are my father. And I’m sorry you came all this way. I’m sorry I can’t be what you wanted. I wasn’t when I was eight and I’m not at eighteen. And that sucks, for both of us. But I am not going to let you ruin this for me. And I’m not going to let you ruin this for them.”
Bridger looked over at the group milling around the cars: Pavel next to Elena’s sportscar, his mom and her beater they’d been keeping alive, the Riveras and their minivan, all of them waiting for him.
“Bridger. I can’t believe this.” He licked his lips. “Fine. Is this what you want? You want to lose me over your weird boss guy and your friend?”
“Boyfriend,” Bridger corrected. “Leo is my boyfriend.”
“Christ.” He scrubbed his hand through his hair. “I can’t believe this,” he said again. “Look, I’ll leave, but if I walk away, we’re done, Bud.”
That hurt. It hurt more than Bridger cared to admit. And maybe this was the wrong decision, maybe Bridger would look back on this moment in a decade and think he should’ve been more forgiving, maybe he’d miss his dad on other important days of his life—like his graduation from college, his wedding, his first kid. But then again, maybe he wouldn’t. In the ten years of his absence, the pain of only having the one parent at his school play and taking pictures for his prom and coming to his soccer games had dulled to an infinitesimal ache, a barely-there twinge, because his mom had filled both roles. And now he did have Pavel, and he did have Astrid, and he did have Leo, and Mindy and the pixies and, God forbid, Elena. They loved him. They wanted him.
And that was it, wasn’t it? Why should he want someone who didn’t want him, someone who found it so easy to walk away a second time?
“My name is Bridger. And I understand this is it. I’m good with that.”
“Fuck,” his dad said, looking at the ground. He shifted on his feet. “Okay. Okay then.” He snapped his head up and looked at Bridger, met his gaze with a hard one of his own. He pointed a finger at Bridger’s chest. “Don’t call me when you need something.”
“I won’t need anything from you. I did when I was a kid, but I haven’t in a while and I certainly don’t now.” It was a little mean, like turning a knife in a wound, but Bridger wasn’t going to take it back.
His dad gave him one last, long look, then turned on his heel and walked across the tiny yard to his car. He got in, slammed the door, and pulled away.
Bridger stayed where he was, still as stone. A myriad of emotions lanced through him, but the one that was the strongest was relief. He should’ve taken his own advice, the advice he’d given Leo after the baseball game, sooner. Fuck anyone who couldn’t handle him as himself.
“Bridge? You okay?” He hadn’t realized how long he’d stood there, staring at the curb where his dad’s car had been parked.
“Yeah, Mom. I’m fine.”
“I’m so sorry, Bridger. I am so sorry. He doesn’t deserve you.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “It’s okay.” He smiled, and it wasn’t as forced as he thought it might be. “Come on. I don’t want to be late for graduation.”
Chapter 16
Midden High held graduation outside on the large lawn on the side of the school. A stage
was erected in front of several rows of seats that were roped off for the graduates, then surrounded by even more rows of seats for all the family members. Bridger’s mom sat with the Riveras while Pavel and Elena sat in the back row, near the parking lot, and on the aisle.
Bridger was fifth from last to be called. He didn’t trip across the stage. He didn’t drop his diploma. He didn’t try to hug the teacher while they went for a handshake. He didn’t screw anything up and, when he returned to his seat, he held his freshly printed high school diploma. He turned his tassel but didn’t throw his cap because those things were expensive and hurt coming back down.
Afterward, he posed for more pictures with Leo and Astrid. Mr. Rivera grabbed him in a massive hug, and Leo’s abuela kissed him all over his face, and his mom had mascara smears down her cheeks.
The two acting the most normal were Pavel and Elena, who clapped politely and congratulated him with soft, proud smiles. “I know you said no presents,” Pavel said, “but the pixies have something for you back at the house.”
“If it’s makeup, I’m not interested.”
Elena snorted. “You should come by anyway. Mindy will want to see you.”
“Mindy? It’s Saturday. Why is she at the office?”
Pavel sent Elena a glare, and she shrugged innocently. “Mindy is, well, she has decided—”
A squeal of tires and a blare of horns cut Pavel off, and Bridger squinted over Pavel’s shoulder to the street. A large white van ran a red light and almost caused an accident. A large white van with Georgia plates.
“Pavel,” Bridger said slowly. “I thought you said Summer left.”
“She did. Why?”
“Are you sure? Because I think I just saw her van.”
Pavel turned and peered toward the street. The van was long gone, and really, Bridger had only seen a flash, just enough to catch the peach on the plate, so maybe he was wrong. He could be wrong. Please be wrong.
He scratched the back of his head, knocking his hat askew. “When Summer left that night after the Dogman incident, did you take her home through the portal?”