“Hence the bribe. He’s coming tonight.”

My words bypass my brain and spill from my heart. “If he makes you happy and doesn’t care that

you have a gay son, you have my blessing.”

I surprise myself by scooping up a cookie rather than a stone. I bite into a warm pocket of semimelted

chocolate.

Annie shuffles her chair an inch closer to mine, while Mum puts down her cookie and walks around

the table to my side. “Stand up, Cooper.”

I swallow hard and pass my cookie to Annie. With shaky legs, I stand up and face Mum. I am an

inch taller than her but she lifts herself onto her toes so we’re even. She cups her hands on either side of

my face and studies me. Her thumbs outline my brow and nose. “It’s not a joke,” I croak.

Her eyes well up and she kisses my cheek. “You’re beautiful. I love you. I support you. I’ll always

be your biggest fan, and I’ll always cheer for you on the sidelines no matter what play you make.”

She hugs me stiffly because Mum isn’t really a hugger, but it makes me warm. “Thanks, Mum.”

She rubs my arms and steps back. “Promise me you’ll wear protective armor.”

Annie snorts and I chuckle too—though mostly in embarrassment. But yeah, I’m well-versed in

safety, thanks to Dad.

“When is Paul coming?” I ask, eager to change the subject.

Annie smiles and nods. “Yeah,” she says. “When do we get to grill him?”

siltstone

Dad and I are cleaning up the dinner pots and pans. He washes, I dry.

“How would you feel if I brought home a girlfriend?”

He scrubs harder at the pot. “You’re too young.”

I’m almost sixteen. But I let that slide.

“What if I brought home a boyfriend?”

He pauses. “Still too young.”

When we’re done, Dad peels off the bright yellow gloves and says, “But when you’re older, I’d

sure like to meet whoever you bring home.”

And that’s it. We don’t mention it again.

apatite

Jace is practicing the piano when I race upstairs. It’s a complex bouncy-sounding song that

perfectly matches my mood: complicated and exhilarated. I burst into the room and the door swings

wildly, banging against the wall. Jace stops mid-song, fingers poised over the keys, head swinging

toward me. His expression morphs from shocked to amused to cocky. “What’s got you all excited?” His

brow arches.

I feel good. So damn good. Like one-thousand pounds has been lifted off my shoulders. Part of me

still feels anchored down but I’m ignoring that part for as long as I can.

“Keep playing,” I tell him. Jace squares his head toward the music and begins again. I jump up and

down, bouncing and dancing behind him like I’ve gone bonkers.

I don’t care.

When I can’t dance any more, I collapse on the couch and laugh. Even when Jace stops playing,

I’m still laughing. And when he charges across the room and looms over me, I still don’t stop.

He grins at me. “What the heck is going on with you?”

I press my foot against his chest to stop him from coming closer.

“You can’t act this crazy and not tell me!” He clasps my foot and peels off my sock. “Tell me, or I

tickle.”

“It’s nothing.”

He tickles. I squirm to get free, laughing harder.

“Let’s try that again, shall we? What’s going on with you?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

His tickle works its way up my calf to my knee. I buck, trying to kick him off. “Too ticklish!”

“Then tell me the truth.” He wiggles his finger threateningly but I shake my head.

“Fine, but you asked for it.”

Jace straddles me, his ass pressed against my lower stomach. He leans forward and tickles my

armpits.

I scream out in laughter, and tears stream down my face. I lift my hips to buck him off but he takes

it in stride, rising and falling with me. He shoves his cool hands under my T-shirt and my body arches

with yearning. Keep touching me like this! Yes, skate your fingertips over my chest. Keep tickling me

like this forever.

Jace stops moving and looks down at me solemnly. Our gazes clash. His dark blue eyes remind me

of blue apatite, a mineral of inspiration, creativity, and awareness.

Awareness. I’m aware of the way he’s sitting on me, aware of his warm weight and the pressure of

his fingers against my chest. Aware of the blood that is making my cock hard. Aware of the electrical

buzzes that pass through me as he continues to stare.

My breath hitches. Jace sits up, dragging his fingers off me. I can’t be sure but I think they are

shaking. “Tell me,” he pleads.

I swallow, praying he doesn’t shuffle back further or I won’t need to tell him anything. I want him

to stay where he is but I gesture for him to get off. I hurriedly fold myself into a less conspicuous

position. “The thing is . . .”

Footsteps pound down the hall and throw me out of the moment. I try again. “Thing is—”

Annie flings open the door. “Jace.” Her calm voice somehow turns me cold. “Your mum is crying. I

heard them downstairs.”

“She’s back?” Jace rushes toward the door. “I thought she was working late.” Jace hurries

downstairs.

“Do you know why she’s crying?” I ask.

Annie shakes her head. “Dad was comforting her. He looked upset too. I came right up here.”

I bite my lip. Has Dad told her about me and she’s crying for my soul? Will Dad change his mind

about being okay with me?

Calm down. Lila has never been narrow-minded. This has nothing to do with you.

But what if it does?

We wait for Jace a while and slither off to our rooms when he doesn’t return.

I place today’s stone in a shelf above my dresser. I stare at it for a few minutes until I hear Jace

behind me. He slumps through the open door and sits on my bed. I turn, lean against the dresser, and

watch him. He’s frowning and staring into the space between us.

“What’s the matter with your mum?” I ask carefully.

He glances at me. “She won’t tell me but something’s up.”

“I’m sorry.”

He draws with his foot against the carpet. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure.”

“Yeah,” I say, hoping to console him. “It’ll be fine.”

Nodding, he draws in a breath. He speaks but he’s not really paying attention. “So what were you

about to tell me?”

I shake my head. I can’t tell him now, and I don’t know that I would have before either. Coming out

to him is not the same as it was the others. With Jace, it feels like I have more at stake—more between

us that can break—and I’m not ready to deal with those consequences.

I know I have to do it eventually but . . . not yet.

flint

Over the weekend, Jace buys a used car, a small faded-teal hatchback that reminds me of mottled

flint. But it works and it’s rust-free. He takes me for a drive around the block, though technically this is

illegal on a restricted license.

We stop at the beach, where I run in to the local dairy to buy us ice cream. We lick our ice creams

while we stare at wisps of sand whipping across the beach. The choppy water is enjoyed only by a

couple of surfers.

The sweet vanilla ice cream tastes good, but the silence between Jace and me feels bad. Since he

found his mum crying, his mind has been elsewhere.

Jace slumps into the front seat and rests against the headrest, ice cream melting down his fingers.

“Nice buy,” I say, patting the dashboard. “Think of the freedom you’ll have now. No more buses.”

He grunts.

Why’d you invite me to come along for the ride if you’re not going to speak?

After we finish our ice creams, he gestures for my rubbish and disposes of it in the bin outside. He

wipes his sticky hands on his jeans on his way back to the car, then stops. He bends down and picks

something up. His back is mostly to me when he stands so I can’t see what’s in his hand. For a fraction