Just Fishin' by Lisa, Duncan's Twin

Just Fishin’ - Lisa, Duncan’s Twin

I think it’s finally time to tell the truth, but I hope you’ll keep my secret when you hear why I’ve been lying. I really don’t like fishing. There. I said it. I dislike it more than I can even express. Why? Well, it’s a long story but I’ve already started, so I’ll finish.

Steven was a sickly kid, and when he was four, he got chicken pox followed closely by scarlet fever and I ended up spending most of the summer with my mom’s dad.

Granddad was passionate about fishing. Stream, deep sea, salt water, fresh water, it didn’t matter, if there were fish in water, he wanted to fish it. He taught me everything there was to know about fishing. I went home a nine year old with burgeoning enthusiasm for fishing. And then my mom left. After that, everything associated with my mom was prohibited, including Granddad. And fishing. Dad wasn’t interested, said it was a waste of time and money, and that was the end of it. Until I was fifteen.

Dad very nearly succeeded in preventing us from going to Granddad’s funeral, but Mom was insistent, and it turned out that Dad had a business meeting to attend. After the funeral, Mom took me aside and told me that Granddad wanted me to have all his fishing gear.

I took my coveted inheritance home and carefully stored it in my closet. Every time I took his tackle box out, I remembered the lessons he’d taught me all those years ago. And I knew that one day, I would take his beloved gear out on a lake and fish with his memory. I should have known, expected, that something would go wrong.

Mom wasn’t a strong presence in our lives; we probably saw her three or four times a year. I realized later, after she was gone, after my Sentinel abilities came back online, that she had been struggling to control her own heightened senses. She never really said, but I’m sure her sense of touch and sound were heightened. I think the others were mostly under control, until something set her off. She killed herself. I’ve never really talked about it, never dwelled on it too much, probably from the fear that I’d follow in her footsteps.

Anyway, I was a week from graduation, two months from turning eighteen, when Dad delivered the news. He was cold and matter of fact. Your mother is dead. Boom. Deal with it. He forbade us to go to the funeral. I skipped school and went anyway. I knew there would be a price to pay; I just hadn’t expected it to be so high. He threw away all of Granddad’s fishing gear, not just threw it out to be rescued from the trash, he destroyed it. He couldn’t have hurt me more if he’d taken knife to my heart. And for years after that I refused to go fishing whenever I was invited, no matter how good the memories of Granddad were, the pain my father inflicted was more powerful.

Now, you’re asking yourself why I do it if I don’t like it. The first time Blair mentioned fishing I cringed inwardly. No way. I couldn’t. But saying no to him just brings about more questions, more probing. It was just easier to go along.

One fishing trip with Blair completely changed my attitude. He has no clue what he did for me, how he gave me back the joyous memories of fishing with Granddad, but he did. And he also opened my eyes to what was right in front of me. I fell in love with Blair during our numerous fishing trips. Fell in love with the expression on Blair’s face when we’re standing knee high in cold mountain water, the sun beaming down on his smiling face and his laughter filling the crisp morning. It’s like a drug, I swear, like being smothered in Golden all over again, yet this time it’s warm and bright and makes my chest hurt, but in a good way. In the best way.

No, I haven’t told Blair about any of this. You know me. But I’m finding it harder every day to keep this secret. I know it doesn’t have to be this way; he let me in on his bisexuality early on but at the time, I just couldn’t open up to him about myself. And now it might be a secret I’ve kept too long.

I think it comes down to the fact that I’m scared. See, I can admit it. But scared he’ll bolt or scared he’ll stay? Both, I guess. I don’t have a great track record with relationships and he’s the best friend I’ve ever had. I don’t know how I would go on if Blair wasn’t in my life.

I just wish there was a way I could be certain. I’ve tried dropping a few hints here and there, hoping he’ll latch onto it and not let it drop like he does with everything else, but he doesn’t. Sometimes it feels like he knows and is waiting for me to make the first move. We both have a lot to lose, but then again, we both have a lot to gain.

So I guess until one of us makes a move, we’re just fishin’.

The end

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Notes: Inspired by "Just Fishin'" sung by Trace Adkins. The story didn't go where I'd planned but I'm happy with the place it ended up. Many thanks to Kelly and Kerensa for the betas, and to Patt for the cover. I did make an edit or two after the fact, so any mistakes are mine, all mine.