Page 52 of Sweet T
“It never went away.”
“Could have fooled me. You’ve seemed preoccupied ever since Walmart. Are you worried about what people will think if they see us together?”
“No. That’s not it at all,”
“What is it then?”
Tucker shrugged. “Honestly? I don’t know. I guess I’m just not used to shopping and dining out with another man. I spend most of my time working at the tavern.”
“Is that by choice?”
“No. Running a business is a full-time commitment.”
“Yeah, but others do it... and they have personal lives.”
“There’s not a lot of dating options in a town this size. Not for folks like us.”
Evan almost choked on his drink. “Are you kidding me? All you’ve shown me so far contradicts what you’re saying. Your parents are gay. There’s Barb and that woman at the boarding house. And those guys, Chuck and what’s-his-face—”
“Brody.”
“Yeah. Those two—they’re a couple.”
“That’s different. They’re friends and family.”
“Are you’re saying that everyone gay in this town is either taken or related?”
“No.”
Evan could see the frustration in Tucker’s furrowed brow and he felt bad for having instigated it. But he’d be goddamned if he were going to let Tucker sweep the topic under the rug again.
“What about this guy you mentioned, Emmett? What happened to him?”
“It was a long time ago.”
“Really?” Evan said. “Because you sure seem very hush-hush on the topic.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“I’m just trying to understand.”
“It’s not your place to.”
“Maybe if you talk about it—”
“You’re not going to drop this, are you?”
“Honestly? I think he’s the root of your self-imposed purgatory. Am I right?”
Tucker stared at Evan, his brown eyes now glazed and red-rimmed. But anger was just the surface emotion emanating from his scowl. Pain loomed behind the facade, rank and festering from suppression. Tucker looked away quickly before tears came.
Evan reached out and place his hand over Tucker’s on the table. “I’m sorry. I’ll stop pressing. You’re right. It’s none of my business.”
Tucker kept his head down, but gave a cursory glance to their surroundings to see if anyone had taken notice. His reaction was minor in context to their environment, but it felt much larger. He pulled his hand away from Evan’s.
“No,” he said in a breathy whisper. “I was going to tell you. The other night, I almost did. I just wasn’t planning on making a scene at a public restaurant.”
Evan reached for the pitcher and Tucker’s glass. “You’re not making a scene. Look around. Nobody’s paying attention. It’s just you, me, and the margaritas. Strike that. Here comes the food.”