Dante
I step into the nurses' station and take a look at my watch. It’s 9:15p.m., I am almost done with my twelve hour shift and can’t wait to take a long shower and rest. I sit down for the first time in what feels like hours and organize my patient's files. I am almost finished when someone touches my shoulder.
“You going home already?” Mirna, one of the older nurses asks me.
“Yes, I have been here long enough to create roots!” I shake my head and point to the computer. “All of the files are updated and the girl on room 15 is waiting for Doctor Gabriel to discharge her.”
She nods at me and settles on the same chair I was using. “It’s all good. Go and rest.” She pauses. “See you on Friday, Dante”
“See you, Mirna!”
The walk from the hospital to the apartment I share with Phoenix is about five minutes and is enough to clear my head from a hard shift. The street is loud even this late and everyone seems to be in a hurry.
I get to our place and step inside to be welcomed by soft music and low light. “Hey, sweetie! I am home!” I half scream while closing the door.
I hear footsteps coming from the hallway. I hang my backpack on the hall closet and take off my shoes.
“Hey, Dante!” Phoenix says, sitting on the green couch that has seen better days. “How was work?”
“Oh, you know.” I say, taking a deep breath. “Busy, chaotic and rewarding.”
I walk toward the kitchen and take a bottle of water. When I come back, Phoenix is changing the music to some crappy reality tv.
“I’ve ordered pizza. Take a shower and come talk to your best friend.” She says in a commanding voice.
I place one hand on my forehead before saying, “Sir, yes. Sir!” We both laugh.
I head to the small bathroom. I take the quickest shower of my life, mostly because the smell of hospital disinfectant seems to have settled into my skin. The shower does wonders for my mood.
By the time I walk back into the living room, wearing a pair of sweatpants and an old T-shirt, Phoenix has already opened the pizza box.
She looks up at me and pats the empty space beside her. “Come here, handsome.”
“You’re only saying that because I brought home the pizza money last week.”
“I am looking for a new job, okay?” I laugh and drop onto the couch, grabbing a slice. The pizza is still warm, and I could probably eat the entire thing by myself.
We eat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, occasionally making comments about the ridiculous people on television. Phoenix has always been good at making an ordinary evening feel like something worth looking forward to. Maybe that’s why living with her works so well. We don’t need to entertain each other all the time. Sometimes, just being in the same room is enough.
“So,” she starts, turning down the volume. “I talked to Vicky today.” She takes a sip of her soda, looking entirely too pleased with herself. “She is back at Sea Harbor.”
I blink. “Vicky Walker?”
“How many Vickys do you know?”
“Fair point.” I settle deeper into the couch. “When did she get back?”
“A little while ago, apparently. I still don’t know why, but the situation with her mom was not good.”
Vicky has always been one of those people whose names come up whenever Phoenix talks about her old friends. I’ve heard plenty of stories about her, Camila, and the rest of their little group. I know she is Thor’s younger sister, and I know the Storm Chasers are a big part of her life.
And I remember how much Phoenix missed her. “That’s great. I bet Thor is happy to have his little sister back.”
“Happy? That’s an understatement. I’m pretty sure he’ll have her followed by security if she tries to leave the clubhouse without telling him.”
I snort. “Does that mean you’re going to start spending all your free time at the Clubhouse?”
She rolls her eyes. “Probably. Have I ever told you how much I like that place?”
“No, but I know you have a thing for bikers.”
“Yeah, but the clubhouse is actually pretty cool.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It’s not exactly what you’d expect. It’s loud, messy, and full of men who apparently think yelling is a normal way to communicate, but it’s also kind of like a family.”
I’ve always been curious about the Storm Chasers. Not in the sense that I want to join a motorcycle club or anything, but I’ve heard enough stories from Phoenix and Camila to know there’s a whole world behind those leather cuts. Besides, I like the people. They’re loud, occasionally terrifying, and surprisingly welcoming.
“I’ve always wanted to go to the clubhouse,” I admit. “I’ve heard so much about it.”
Phoenix looks at me. “You have?”
“Sure. I mean, I hear about the place all the time. And you keep telling me stories about everyone. I’m curious.”
“You’d definitely like it. They have good food, good music, and enough handsome men to keep you entertained for an entire month.”
I nearly choke on my pizza. “That’s a very specific selling point.”
She grins. “Just looking out for you.”
I know Phoenix well enough to recognize when she’s about to start teasing me about my love life. It’s practically a hobby of hers.
“So, how’s your romantic life going?” she asks.
I groan. “Can we not?”
“Why? I think it’s a perfectly reasonable question.”
“Because you ask it every other day.”
“And you give me the same answer every other day.”
“Then maybe you should stop asking.”
She ignores me. “Anyone interesting lately?”
I shrug. “There’s a guy from the gym. We went for drinks last week.”
“Was he cute?” I just nod. “Good in bed?”
“Not the best.” I say, shrugging. “He didn’t deserve a comeback.”
Phoenix takes another slice and studies me for a moment. “Do you ever think about dating someone seriously again?”
I stop smiling. It’s not an unusual question. Phoenix has asked me before, usually after I’ve mentioned another guy I’ve gone out with. She knows I don’t date. She knows I enjoy meeting people, flirting, having a good time, and moving on when things are over.
“Not particularly.” I say, taking another bite of the pizza.
“You’re happy with pizza, bad television with your lesbian friend and random men you meet at bars?” She asks, pointing around.
“That’s a pretty good life if you ask me.”
She gives me a look.
I sigh and put my plate on the coffee table. “Phoenix, you know how this goes. I meet someone, we have fun, and then we go our separate ways. Nobody gets hurt.”
She doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, she reaches for her glass and takes a sip. “Your ex really did a number on you, didn’t he?”
I stare at the television. There are things I don’t mind talking about. My work, my family, my terrible taste in television shows. My ex isn’t one of them. And even if Phoenix and I are the closest thing to a sibling I have, I never told her.
Not because I’m still in love with him. God, no. But because remembering that relationship makes me feel like an idiot.
“We were together for almost two years,” I finally say. “It was serious.”
She nods, giving me space to keep going.
“He was charming at first. Really charming. The kind of guy who remembers your favorite coffee and sends you messages in the middle of the day just to say he’s thinking about you.”
Phoenix shifts, giving me her full attention.
“Then things started changing. Little comments at first. The way I dressed, the way I talked, the people I spent time with.”
I rub my thumb against the edge of my plate. “He said I wear too much silk for a guy. And that no respectable man would buy a purple shirt.” I pause, taking a deep breath.
“He didn’t like me being too affectionate in public. Didn’t like me talking about being gay around certain people. He’d say I was making things difficult, that I didn’t need to be so obvious about it.”
Phoenix’s expression hardens. “That asshole.”
“Yeah. Well, I kept making excuses. Told myself he was private, that he had his reasons. Eventually, I started changing things without even realizing it.”
I swallow. “I stopped wearing some of my clothes. Stopped holding his hand in public. Started thinking twice before saying anything about my life. I was constantly trying to make myself easier for him to love.”
“Jesus, Dante.”
I shrug, but it feels uncomfortable. “The funny thing is, I didn’t even notice how much of myself I’d given up until we broke up.”
Phoenix reaches for my hand. “That wasn’t your fault.”
“I know that now.” And I do. At least, most days. “It took me a while to get over it. Not because I missed him, but because I hated that I’d let someone make me feel like there was something wrong with being myself.”
“That’s why I made a promise to myself. No more serious relationships. No more trying to fit into someone else’s idea of who I should be. I like my life. I like my freedom. And I really like not having to explain myself to anyone.” I look at her. “When we broke up, I promised myself I wouldn’t do that again.”
“Do what?” Phoenix stares at me.
“Fall in love.”
She rolls her eyes. “That’s a little dramatic, even for you.”
I laugh. “Probably.”
We laugh, and for a while, the conversation moves to easier things. She tells me about her search for a new job, then complains about the neighbor who keeps parking in her spot. I tell her about a little boy who tried to convince me that he wasn’t sick enough to stay in the hospital because he had a very important soccer match the following morning.
She shakes her head, smiling, but I notice the expression fades a little when she reaches for another slice.
“Anyway, my mother called today.”
I glance at her. “Oh?”
“Yeah. Apparently, Thabita is getting married.” She looks at me and raises her eyebrows. “Can you believe they have already started planning the wedding?”
“Already? When is it?”
“Next summer. But you know how she is. She’s been dreaming about this since she was twelve.”
Phoenix picks at the edge of her pizza crust.
“Let me guess.” I say, turning to her. ’It’s going to be in a golf club and you will be sitting in a table by the kitchen?”
She laughs and picks up her phone. “Worse. She sent me a picture of the venue. It’s beautiful, actually. Big garden, white flowers, all that princess bullshit.” There’s a pause. “Then, she asked if I was seeing anyone and then reminded me that my sister’s fiancé has a brother who is single.”
She shrugs. “I can’t believe that!” I put my pizza down. “Phoenix.” I pause. “There is more?”
She picks at the edge of the pizza box. “She wants me to come. She says it would mean a lot to everyone if I were there.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Except she still wants me to pretend I’m not gay.”
My expression changes. “Seriously?”
“She didn’t say it exactly like that. She never does. It’s always about keeping things comfortable for the family, not making a scene, and being respectful of my sister’s special day.”
I shake my head. “That’s bullshit.”
Phoenix lets out a humorless laugh.
“My parents still think it’s a phase. Or a choice. Or something I could just stop doing if I wanted to make their lives easier.”
I move closer and put an arm around her shoulders. We’ve had this conversation before, although never quite like this.
Her parents have never accepted that she’s a lesbian. They’ve never said the words outright, at least not in the way people expect, but they’ve made their feelings perfectly clear. Every family gathering comes with awkward questions about boyfriends, suggestions that she hasn’t met the right man, and little comments about how she should stop making her life so complicated.
Her sister has always been different. She loves Phoenix, or at least she tries to. But she still lives with their parents’ expectations, and sometimes that means staying quiet when she should speak up.
She rests her head against my shoulder. “I love my sister. I really do. But I’m not going to spend an entire wedding pretending to be someone I’m not just so my parents can feel comfortable.”
“You shouldn’t have to.”
We sit quietly for a moment. Phoenix has always been stronger than she gives herself credit for. She jokes about everything, makes fun of people, and rarely lets anyone see when something hurts. But I know how much it bothers her that her parents can’t accept her.
I also know she still hopes they’ll change their minds someday.
“Well,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “If they don’t want to appreciate how fabulous their daughter is, that’s their loss.”
She laughs against my shoulder. “You’re such a drama queen.”
I reach for the pizza box. “Now, can we finish eating? All this homophobic shit is making me hangry!”
For all the shit life throws at us, I think we’ve done a pretty good job of building our own little family. It isn’t perfect, but it’s ours.
And honestly, that’s enough for me.
