Jesus. “I’ll come down tonight for dinner, and we’ll figure out what to do next.”
“We won’t be home until Sunday. And you’re not hearing me. You can come visit, but you don’t get a say in how things go down. I agree with you—letting him do this is dangerous and stupid—but I’ll figure out what happens next.”
“Then why loop me in?” Not that he was complaining. He needed to figure out how to stop this. “There’s an easy answer. I’ll sit down, we’ll talk about where he comes from, and I’ll remind him porn pays the bills and tell him that, if he’s going to hell, he should enjoy the ride.” Turned out he was in the mood to push the parenthood issue.
“You’re usually better at picking up on my no’s. I don’t want you to tell him the truth. He barely knows you. Don’t walk your ass in here and change that for your own ego. He’s doing fine the way things are. Come down, visit, be a strong uncle figure, and remind him it’s okay to be him.”
Okay for Lucas, but not Andrew apparently. A logical part of him agreed with his sister, coercing him to back down. Lucas had a stable life, believing the woman who raised him was his mother and not getting caught up in the insanity that was Andrew’s world. The last thing Andrew wanted was to make Lucas miserable. “I’ll drop by early next week. Hang out with him. Casually and unobtrusively remind him manly men can like men, and it’ll be fine.”
Her sigh echoed in his ear. “Thank you.”
“I want what’s best for him,” Andrew said.
“We’ll see you Monday.” She disconnected.
He tossed his phone aside and dropped his face into his hands. Conversion therapy. Fuck.