Short Rides (Rough Riders #14.5)(11)

Edgard said, “I’m proud of you,” in Portuguese, which brought Westin’s quick smile. Chassie and Trevor were learning the language, just not as fast as the kids.


“Maybe Papai oughta get me’n Mama a Portuguese workbook, so we don’t fall behind you and your sister.”


“I’d help you with it, Daddy. You too, Mama,” Westin added.


“I know you would, son. You’re a helpful, thoughtful boy.”


Everyone fell quiet.


“So someone said something to you at school today?” Edgard asked.


Westin looked up. His gaze winged between Trevor and Edgard. “He said you were faggots.”


Edgard’s stomach churned. “And you don’t know what that word means?”


“Huh-uh. But he said it like it was a bad word. Is it?”


That was truly the vilest F word—in Edgard’s opinion.


“It’s an ugly word that people who don’t understand love say to hurt someone’s feelings, and make them feel bad about who they love,” Trevor said softly.


Edgard covered Trevor’s restless hand with his and threaded their fingers together.


Chassie kissed the top of Westin’s head. “See how Daddy and Papai are holding hands? They love each other. Some people think that’s wrong. That two men shouldn’t love each other like that.”


“But why not?”


“We honestly don’t know.”


Trevor and Edgard reached for Chassie’s hands at the same time.


“And some people don’t think it’s right that your Daddy and I love each other, and we both love your mama, and she loves us both back,” Edgard said.


Westin silently poked his marshmallows again, his brow furrowed.


Edgard had no idea if any of this was making sense to him. Westin had three loving parents. He was used to seeing Papai kissing Mama and Daddy. It was normal for Westin and his siblings to witness the love and affection that all three of his parents had for each other. In what universe was that wrong?


“You’re kinda quiet. Do you have any questions?”


Westin shook his head. His blond hair fell across his forehead and Chassie lovingly smoothed it back.


“You sure?” Trevor prompted.


Those blue eyes were enormous when he asked, “He said I’m probably a faggot too. Am I?”


Chassie bit her lip and closed her eyes.


Old memories Edgard thought he’d buried long ago pushed to the surface. The taunts, jeers and accusations that’d been hurled at him since he’d turned thirteen. But Westin was so young, too young to understand why some kid he didn’t know felt entitled to say shit like that to him.


Trevor scooted closer and took Westin’s hand. “Can I tell you a secret? I used to be one of them mean kids who said words like that, mostly because I didn’t know what it meant. I said that kinda stuff because everyone else did. I’m ashamed of that now. It was wrong; it is wrong. Faggot, fag, homo—are all awful words that try to make love that’s special sound wrong. Do I know if you’ll fall in love with a boy or a girl when you’re older? Nope. But no matter who you fall in love with son, your love, the way you feel, won’t be wrong. And no one has the right to call you names for it.”


A lump formed in Edgard’s throat. There’d been a time he never would’ve believed that Trevor Glanzer was capable of feeling that way, let alone admitting it out loud.


“Mama, I’m tired.”


“I know you are. Give Daddy and Papai a hug and a kiss. Then I’ll tuck you in.”


“That’s okay, Chass. I’ll do it,” Trevor said and stood.


Westin clung to Chassie for a minute before he crawled off her lap and threw himself at Edgard. He squeezed the boy tightly and kissed the top of his head. “Love you, son. I’m glad you talked to us about this. You can talk to us about anything, you know that, right?”


“Yes, Papai.”


He released the boy and Trevor scooped him up.


As soon as they left the kitchen, Chassie’s tear-filled eyes met his. “How can we...?”


Edgard lifted her onto his lap and cradled her to his chest. “I’ve got you. Cry if you want.”


“I hate to cry.”


“I know you do,” he soothed. He held her, resting his chin on top of her head, knowing once her frustration ebbed, Mama Bear Chassie would roar.


Chassie stayed quiet, her breath hard and fast.


“What’re you thinking about?” he asked after a bit.


“Dag. Havin’ to hide who he was. And you. Accepting who you were but havin’ to hide it to be with Trevor. And Trevor. Lying to himself about bein’ in love with a man. And me. Feeling smug because I have two men who love me. We decided to live the life we want, screw what anyone else thinks, right? Then I worry it’s unfair to our kids because they’ll have to deal with people around here who think we’re freaks. We—you, me and Trev—we’re somewhat isolated from those attitudes out here on the ranch. But Westin and Sophia and Max will have to face those attitudes every day when they go to school. I hate that this is just the start.” She sighed heavily against his chest. “Homeschooling them—”