Page 59 of Six Years
But Grey, he’s not… he’s not like that. He kissed me. I slept in his arms. But it would explain his indecisiveness.
Unless he knows who I am, knew it right from the start and is now helping his father take down mine.
Chapter 9
“fix you, help you mend, when it gets tough”—Friends by Ella Henderson
February 2024
“Izan and I didn’tbreak up because of a comment he made,” I blurt out the second I unlock the door to Miles’s apartment and walk inside.
After seeing my father at the airport earlier, I realized two things. One; I do not give a shit what he thinks about me anymore.
He wants to disown me, so fucking be it. If my family actually loves me, they can still talk to me.
I have to stop living by my father’s rules because I am my own person.
Kissing Luan felt right. And if something feels right, why should I give up on it?
The other thing I realized; I have to open up to Miles.
Miles is my best friend, and I want to have that deeper bond with him. I want to have someone in my life who knows me better than anyone else. And after almost six years of being best friends, I think it’s time he actually gets to knowme. Not the guy my father wanted me to be.
Miles and Emory are both in their kitchen, him cooking, her sitting on the counter and watching. It smells delicious, so I’ll probably take some home with me when I leave. Then again, everything Miles cooks smells and tastes great.
“Pardon?” Miles looks at me, confusion written all over his features.
“He wanted to meet my family, but I couldn’t let him do that with the kind of father I have. He got angry because of it, all the time. The last week we were together, we only ever yelled at each other because he said if I loved him, I’d introduce him to my family. When I tried explaining to him why that wasn’t possible, I thought he understood, but then he gave me an ultimatum. Him or my family. I chose my family.”
Emory hops off the counter, whispering something to Miles before she plants a kiss to his cheek and walks over to their bedroom. After she closes the door to give us more privacy, Miles turns off the stove and looks at me.
“I figured it wasn’t about rice.”
My pulse increases, my nerves shoot through the roof when I ramble on and on about all the things I wanted to say to Miles for years. All the problems I wanted to let him be part of, wanted his help with but couldn’t ask for. And all Miles does is listen, nod his head every now and then, understanding.
When I start talking about all the feelings I’ve been bottling up ever since I was twelve years old, Miles gestures for me to walk over to the couch to take a seat. I do, but only because my knees feel like they’re seconds away from giving in and dropping me to the floor.
As we sit, I continue to tell Miles about my childhood, how my father used to hide his own kids from the public which wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it always made me feel like he was hiding us because he was embarrassed. I tell him about how, even though Sun is three years younger than me, she was always the one I was closest to because she understood me.
But then we get to the part I’ve never told anyone about, not even my own sister.
“I had my first kiss with a guy named Luke at the age of twelve,” I say, taking a deep, encouraging breath. “I freaked out because my dad raised us to benormal. He always said people liking the same gender as them is wrong and how that is something to be ashamed of. When I was little, I believed him.”
I pause, feeling my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
Embarrassment… Wow. I can’t remember a single day I was ever embarrassed. “It was at school, and I had a panic attack after I realized what had just happened. My teacher called my parents and told them about it. Not the kiss part, I don’t think she knew. Anyway, my dad picked me up and in the car I told him what I had done. I was crying and thought I was going to go to hell now. That Satan was out to get me and all that crap.”
Miles looks at me with only little sympathy, so much different from what I thought he’d look at me if he ever knew more about me. And he keeps surprisingly quiet.
“My dad sent me to a church camp that same summer because when he asked if I regretted it, I said no. I told him it was exciting and that I thought I liked that guy. It scared me, but I didn’t see anything wrong with it. Dad thought I was being pressured at school, that I was depressed and needed to reconnect with God, because god forbid his son might actually just like guys. That camp did nothing but make me realize that liking guys isn’t so bad. Sure, they aimed to tell me differently, but I didn’t give a fuck. Fast forward like two years, I had my first actual boyfriend and when I introduced him to my dad, he was all nice in the guy’s presence. But when said guy was gone, Dad yelled at me for the first time. Called me names and said I was disgusting. From there, it only ever got worse.”
For the next hour, I continue to tell him about my childhood, about everything that pops up in my mind, really. More stuff about how my father treats me, I just tell himeverythingthere is to know about me.
I didn’t know talking about what has been eating at me for years could make me feel so light all of a sudden. I didn’t think I would feel different after opening up about it, that I would be able to feel the weight lift off my shoulders, off my heart.
And when I say my final sentence, I catch the slim smile that Miles has on his face just before he wraps his arms around my body like he’s been meaning to do that for the longest time imaginable. Maybe he has.
“I am so sorry you had to go through that, Grey,” he says, still holding me in his arms. “I should’ve raised you. I’m a great dad.”
