Page 172 of In at the Deep End

Nothing came out, because the worst part was that he couldn’t.

Jeff sat back, letting the silence answer for him.

“And as for how he feels about you? That boy can’t hide a damn thing. He never could.” He rubbed a hand over his cheek. “Which means today is a real red-letter day. First, I discover my son likes men.”

The anger and disbelief Owen had heard in Jeff’s voice softened, and something else replaced it.

Something Owen understood.

Jeff had woken up that morning believing he knew his son. Then, within a few hours, he’d discovered an entire part of Matt’s life he’d never seen.

Owen knew how unsettling that was. The moment you realised the person you loved had been showing you who they were all along.

Matt had done that to him.

Not deliberately, or because he’d been hiding anything. Owen simply hadn’t been looking closely enough. He’d seen a young man looking for a summer job. Then a lover. Then a friend. And somewhere along the way, he’d discovered the man beneath all of that—the man he’d fallen in love with.

I spent months thinking I was the one teaching Matt about desire, trust, what it meant to let someone get close.

All the while, Matt had been showing him who he was.

Jeff raised his chin. “Second…” His jaw tightened. “He’s in love with one of my oldest friends.”

Owen stared at him. The words hung between them, another bomb, two in less than a minute.

“He’s not⁠—”

The denial died before it reached his lips.

How could I know?

He’d told himself Matt understood the arrangement. That Matt was happy with what they had. That neither of them had asked for more.

But he’d never asked, not once.

Jeff hadn’t said I think Matt might have feelings for you.

He’d said He’s in love with you.

And suddenly Owen found himself remembering things he’d deliberately not examined too closely.

He swallowed. “You don’t know that.”

Jeff’s expression softened. “I do. I’ve known him since the day he was born. You might not have noticed. Or maybe you’ve noticed and convinced yourself it doesn’t mean what it looks like. But I know my son.”

Owen rubbed his thumb against his palm. “Matt hasn’t said anything.”

“He doesn’t have to.” Jeff closed his eyes, as though he’d been hoping against hope for a different answer. “How long?”

“Since the beginning of July.”

Jeff’s eyes snapped open. “Jesus, Owen. You’ve spent half the summer falling into bed with him?”

“That isn’t all we’ve been doing,” Owen protested.

Jeff took a breath. “I know you’re not using him.” Owen stilled, and Jeff nodded. “How long have we known each other? Give me some credit. And believe it or not, the fact he’s twenty-five and you’re fifty-two isn’t what scares me.” He closed his eyes again for a moment. “No, what scares me is twenty years from now, when he’ll be forty-five⁠—

“—and I’ll be seventy-two,” Owen finished.