I don't make it back to Jake's house until early the next morning.

I never really got that experience of sneaking home in the wee hours, so maybe that's why I don't feel much shame over it. It's hard to feel ashamed about anything when I had such an amazing night.

Shane and I spent hours laying side by side, touching and kissing until we both fell asleep. I woke to the feeling of my morning wood pressing against his ass, and it hadn't taken much encouragement before we were back at it again.

I honestly might have stayed there if not for the fact that all my clothes are here, at Jake's place. Maybe I'll have to keep a bag in my car from now on, just in case I stay over more often.

For now, I just park on the street so I'm not blocking my brother and head inside, planning to catch a little more sleep before I go back to the ranch.

Jake's in the kitchen when I walk in, which isn't unusual for this time on a school day, but he looks like he got even less sleep than me. His clothes are rumpled, his hair's a mess, a five o'clock shadow covers his normally clean face, and there are dark bags under his eyes.

"Jesus, Travis. I was about to call the cops!" His voice is strained, a mix of relief and what I'm guessing is more than a little exasperation.

"Why didn't you just call me? I had my—" I pull my phone out of my back pocket and check the display to find eleven missed calls. "Shit. It must've been on silent or something. I'm sorry, man."

"It's fine," he says, raking a hand through his hair.

"No, it's not. You look like you had a shitty night, and it's my fault."

Jake lets out a breath, and a bit of the color finally seems to return to his face. "A normal person would've actually slept. I thought…" He shakes his head and laughs. "I don't know. I thought some crazy fan abducted you and was holding you in their basement or something."

A smirk tugs at my lips. "That's not all that far-fetched, if you've read some of the fan mail I get."

"Okay, yeah. Didn't need to know that."

I laugh softly, but it tapers into an awkward silence that sits heavy between us. Shane's words play through my mind, but how am I supposed to talk to my brother when we can't seem to hold a conversation that doesn’t get weird or all fucked up by buried resentments.

"I still should've let you know I wouldn't be home. I'm sorry, Jake."

He waves this off. "Don't worry about it. You want coffee?"

"I was actually gonna head to bed for a little bit," I say, feeling a little guilty for rejecting his offer. "And don't you have to go to work soon?"

And for punking out on this talk we need to have like a coward.

"I put in for a sub."

Shit. Now I feel even more guilty. Maybe that's why I hang around a little longer. Long enough for him to ask the obvious question.

"So… I'm guessing you figured things out with Shane?"

It's silly, but just hearing his name makes something light up inside of me.

"Yeah, I did," I say, rubbing at the back of my neck. "That's still okay, right?"

Jake actually rolls his eyes at me, reaching for the carafe to refill his own coffee cup. "Of course it's okay. I'm happy for you guys. Seriously."

And he does seem genuinely happy. The tension is gone from his expression, so while he still looks tired, I think he’s eased off high alert status.

"You know," I start with a laugh, "when I first got here I thought maybe you and Shane had a thing."

I have no idea why I felt compelled to share that. Lack of sleep, I guess.

Jake just smirks. "I did have a crush on him for pretty much the entire time we were in college. Never did anything about it, though, and he's more like a brother to me now."

I stop dead and stare at him. There's so much to unpack in that confession that I don't even know where to start. Actually, no. I know exactly where to start.

"…You're gay?"

"Bi," he says, lifting his cup to his lips.

I search my memory and try to remember him bringing a guy home, or Dad ever mentioning someone he was dating who just happened to be male, but all I see are a string of girls.

"I never saw you dating any guys," I say, perplexed.

His lips press into a thin line. "That's because I never came out to you guys. The only person I ever told was Shane, and that happened pretty recently."

My mouth is open a little, my arms crossed over my chest as I look at him. I always just assumed Jake was straight. Not that I believe in some bullshit about how queer men should act and appear, but he's just never struck me as… anything but straight.

That's not really the weirdest thing about all of this, though.

"Why didn't you ever come out? Everybody was cool with me being gay."

Jake laughs, and there's a bitterness to his tone that catches me off guard. "They were cool with it because you're Travis Morrison, football prodigy. Dad tolerated your sexuality because of how much you had going for you. If his 'ordinary' son had come out too, he would've had a fit."

I start to open my mouth to refute this, but I immediately remember at least five instances where Dad said something shitty about the LGBT community, and specifically gay men. I internalized so much of that growing up without even realizing it, and I've only just now started to get past it.

But somehow I missed what was right in front of me. What Jake saw all along. Dad didn't accept me as a gay man. He just turned a blind eye to it because I was doing what I was supposed to be doing.

And deep down I know if he were still alive for this scandal, he'd cut ties with me without a second thought.

That revelation knocks the breath out of me and I reach for the back of a nearby dining chair.

"Shit," Jake says, dragging a hand over his face. "I'm sorry. I can't seem to say anything right around you."

"No, you're right." I let out a soft sigh and sink down into the chair. Apparently every deep conversation I have in Glen Springs is going to involve a dinner table. "You were right yesterday, too. I don't regret all the training Dad made me do. It got me to where I am—or where I was," I say with a dismissive wave. "But sometimes… yeah, I wish I could've just been a normal kid."

Jake doesn't say anything for a while. He brings his coffee cup over and joins me at the table, extending a hand to rest on top of mine.

"I know it sounds like I hated Dad, but I didn't. I loved him. He just… made it really clear what he cared most about. It wasn't me. And it wasn't Mom. I'm not even sure it was you, Trav."

The words hurt. They cut deep inside, slashing across the memories I have of my dad being proud of me; showing me off because of something great I'd done during a game. But that's just the thing. Those memories are all tied up in football and nothing else.

"Football was everything to him," I agree.

"And what about you?" He leans over the table a little to look at me despite the fact that I have my head tilted down.

"Football's the only thing I'm good at."

"I'm positive that's not true," Jake says adamantly. "You're a smart guy, Trav, and insanely driven. You've got a degree. You can do anything you want."

"It's not just that," I say. "Football is what I want, because I want to be really good at something, Jake. I love football. I love playing it, I love the fans, I even love all the stupid little things I have to do off the field."

He gives me a skeptical look, his hand lifting from mine. But after a moment, he nods. "I get it. I do. I mean… I have a law degree, and here I am, teaching in a small town," he says with a laugh. "It's what I'm good at. What I'm really good at."

I let out a breath, relief flooding me when Jake smiles. I know we've had our differences, and I know there's still some bad blood there, but I feel like for the first time in our lives, we finally understand one another.

"Have you heard back from your agent yet?" he asks.

"Not yet. He's been putting out fires all week; told me not to expect his call for a few more days. I think he wants to give me a chance to get out of the spotlight, at least until the worst of it is over."

Jake nods, taking another sip of his coffee. "What's that mean for you and Shane?"

The question catches me off guard, though I know it shouldn't. Of course it's going to change things. I'll be gone, traveling around the country or maybe even overseas. I might only get to see him every couple of weeks, and the idea already doesn't sit well with me.

But this thing between Shane and I is so new, I guess I hadn't really thought about it that much.

"If it's meant to be, we'll figure it out," I say with a slight shrug.

Jake makes a face at that, his mouth pulling into an I-don't-like-this expression.

"What?" I ask.

"I've never really liked that saying. 'If it's meant to be, blah blah blah…' Relationships don't work out because they're 'meant to be.' They work out because… well, because both people put in a lot of hard work."

I know he's right, and I find myself wondering what sort of relationships Jake's had.

But what comes out of my mouth is, "You must be real fun at parties."

I wince, but Jake actually laughs. A warm, honest laugh. "That's what I've heard."

We sit there in near silence for a few minutes, the only sound that of the songbirds out in the front yard. For once, things between us don't feel awkward. We're stable. Not perfect, but stable.

I look over at him, and find myself saying the words before I even really acknowledge that I'm thinking them.

"I know I haven't been a great brother to you—"

"Trav, it's fine."

"Let me finish," I say, and he falls silent. "I haven't been a great brother to you, but I want you to know it's not because I didn't want to be. If all of this shit had to happen for us to start talking… then I'm glad for it."

He smiles at me, the expression bright and warm. "Me, too."

And for the first time I feel like we might actually get a chance to be real brothers.