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Jason Bannon is a wreck. His leg’s been blown to hell in Afghanistan, his boyfriend just left him and took the dog, and now he’s back in his hometown of Pinehurst, Washington, a place that holds nothing but wretched memories…and Nathan Tull. Nathan Tull, whose life Jason ruined. Nathan Tull, who will never believe Jason did what he did for a greater good. Nathan Tull, whose reverend father runs a gay conversion therapy camp that Jason once sought to bring down—at any cost. Nathan Tull is trying to live a quiet life. Four years ago, when Nate was a prospective student visiting UW Tacoma, his world collapsed when senior Jason Bannon slept with him, filmed it, and put the footage online. A painful public outing and a crisis of faith later, Nate has finally begun to heal. Cured of the “phantoms” that plagued him for years, he now has a girlfriend, a counselor job at his dad’s camp, and the constant, loving support of his father. But when he learns Jason is back in town, his carefully constructed identity begins to crumble. As desperate to reconcile his love for God with his attraction to men as Jason is to make sense of the damage he’s done, Nate finds himself walking a dangerous line. On one side lies the righteous life he committed himself to in the wake of his public humiliation. On the other is the sin he committed with Jason Bannon, and the phantoms that won’t let him be. But is there a path that can bridge those two worlds—where his faith and his identity as a gay man aren’t mutually exclusive? And can he walk that path with the man who betrayed him? Warning: Not a genre romance |
...this book...not only gave me the so-called "feels" but it also gave me something to think about.
- Dog-Eared Daydreams
- Dog-Eared Daydreams
Excerpt from The Preacher's Son:
PROLOGUE
June. Four years ago.
Jason opened the door to his apartment and flipped on the light. Listened as Nathan followed him in.
Nathan Tull. I’ve got Nathan fucking Tull in my apartment.
He paused as the door clicked shut behind Nathan. Not a trap, exactly. But uncomfortably close to one.
I don’t feel guilty. I don’t.
He went to the kitchenette and set the plastic grocery bag of tea and coffee on the counter. Turned. “You sure you want to do this?”
Nathan had his hands jammed in his pockets. His starched white button-down was tucked into jeans that hung low. Too low. Not an invitation—Nathan Tull was just built skinnier than they made jeans. But Jason’s dick reacted all the same. “Yeah,” Nathan said softly.
It was important that Nathan said he wanted to. Said it out loud. “Yeah?” Jason prompted.
Nathan looked up. Smiled tentatively. “I’m sure.”
Jason filled a glass with tap water. “You want a drink first? Or, hey, you hungry?”
“No. I’m good. I’m ready.” Nathan’s willingness seemed genuine enough. Even if Jason could smell the fear on him. Jason could remember that feeling, vaguely. Nerves and excitement nearly choking him, the foolish belief that losing his virginity was going to be some monumental experience.
He glanced at the front of Nathan’s pants. “I’d say you are.”
Nathan’s panicked gaze shot down to his crotch. Would’ve been funny if it hadn’t been so damn sad.
Come on, dude. It’s sex. Not a firing squad at dawn.
Nathan lifted his head, not quite meeting Jason’s eye. He ran a hand through his hair. “In the car, I liked it when you kept…”
“Reaching over and grabbing your dick?” Jason knocked back the water. Slammed the glass on the counter and smacked his lips, grinning. “That was fun.”
Nathan gave a slight, nervous smile and gazed around the room. “I like your apartment.”
Oh, they were gonna do that whole script, were they? Nice place you’ve got. Oh, thank you, I just fucking redecorated.
“The photos are good.” Nathan’s gaze traveled along the far wall. Across the massive red dunes of Soussusvlei, Namibia, the trippy-as-fuck La Sebastiana in Chile, the royal tombs in Petra. “Did you take them?”
Jason felt a flash of pride. “Yep.” Photos from twenty-seven different countries. Soon to be twenty-eight. He remembered dozing on the cold red sand in Soussusvlei, waiting for sunrise, waiting for that perfect shot. The wind blowing grit into his eyelashes, roughening the skin of his cheeks.
Nathan’s gaze was on the floor again.
Time to put the poor kid out of his misery. “Nathaaaan,” he said quietly, stepping around the counter. He slipped behind Nathan and wrapped his arms around the slender body. Let out a soft huff into the crook of Nathan’s neck and caught the whiff of a cologne that seemed too grown-up for an eighteen-year-old. Like Nathan had tried out his dad’s aftershave or something. And the way he relaxed, just for a second, into Jason’s arms made Jason want to call off the whole damn plan.
No can do.
Nathan tensed again.
“You worried about Bigsby?” Jason asked. “I told you, he’ll be too drunk by now to wonder where you are.”
Nathan was supposed to be spending UW Tacoma’s prospective students’ weekend with Joe Bigsby, a junior. But Bigsby was hardly the world’s most responsible host, and anyway, he’d seen Jason and Nathan talking at the party last night. Knew that Nathan had gone to meet Jason for coffee earlier today. Nathan was a big boy. He could handle himself.
Jason trailed his fingertips across Nathan’s chest. “Don’t be scared. I’m gonna take good care of you.”
Nathan laughed shakily. “Shut up.”
“Mm.” He nuzzled Nathan’s ear. “That’s not very nice.”
Nathan jumped a little. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”
Good goddamn fuck, this little nerveball needed a horse tranquilizer. Jason laughed into Nathan’s shoulder. “Relax. I know.”
So this is what eighteen years with your head up Jesus’s ass will do to you, huh? Glad my parents were atheists.
But then Nathan turned to him, and there was a flash of the playfulness Jason had seen when they’d flirted last night at the party. That expression—half mischievous, half grimly determined, made something like pride flare up in Jason’s chest. There you go. This is what you should be: happy, young, wild. Fearless. And it’s your father’s fault you aren’t.
“I, uh... I wanna kiss you.”
Jason grinned slowly. “Then why don’t you?”
Nathan smiled back—such a genuine, artless smile that guilt slammed Jason like an anvil. But he leaned down, and they kissed. God, you’re hot as fuck. Own it, Nathan. Own it. Jason hummed into Nathan’s mouth and slid a hand down to Nathan’s crotch. Nathan gasped, froze.
It’s okay. Feels good, doesn’t it?
Nathan pushed tentatively against Jason’s hand. Jason managed a fairly graceful one-handed fly pop, and tugged Nathan’s jeans down. They stayed rucked around hairy, skinny thighs. His briefs were blindingly white--God, they’re probably starched, just like his fucking Do-you-have-a-moment-to-talk-about-Jesus button-down.
PROLOGUE
June. Four years ago.
Jason opened the door to his apartment and flipped on the light. Listened as Nathan followed him in.
Nathan Tull. I’ve got Nathan fucking Tull in my apartment.
He paused as the door clicked shut behind Nathan. Not a trap, exactly. But uncomfortably close to one.
I don’t feel guilty. I don’t.
He went to the kitchenette and set the plastic grocery bag of tea and coffee on the counter. Turned. “You sure you want to do this?”
Nathan had his hands jammed in his pockets. His starched white button-down was tucked into jeans that hung low. Too low. Not an invitation—Nathan Tull was just built skinnier than they made jeans. But Jason’s dick reacted all the same. “Yeah,” Nathan said softly.
It was important that Nathan said he wanted to. Said it out loud. “Yeah?” Jason prompted.
Nathan looked up. Smiled tentatively. “I’m sure.”
Jason filled a glass with tap water. “You want a drink first? Or, hey, you hungry?”
“No. I’m good. I’m ready.” Nathan’s willingness seemed genuine enough. Even if Jason could smell the fear on him. Jason could remember that feeling, vaguely. Nerves and excitement nearly choking him, the foolish belief that losing his virginity was going to be some monumental experience.
He glanced at the front of Nathan’s pants. “I’d say you are.”
Nathan’s panicked gaze shot down to his crotch. Would’ve been funny if it hadn’t been so damn sad.
Come on, dude. It’s sex. Not a firing squad at dawn.
Nathan lifted his head, not quite meeting Jason’s eye. He ran a hand through his hair. “In the car, I liked it when you kept…”
“Reaching over and grabbing your dick?” Jason knocked back the water. Slammed the glass on the counter and smacked his lips, grinning. “That was fun.”
Nathan gave a slight, nervous smile and gazed around the room. “I like your apartment.”
Oh, they were gonna do that whole script, were they? Nice place you’ve got. Oh, thank you, I just fucking redecorated.
“The photos are good.” Nathan’s gaze traveled along the far wall. Across the massive red dunes of Soussusvlei, Namibia, the trippy-as-fuck La Sebastiana in Chile, the royal tombs in Petra. “Did you take them?”
Jason felt a flash of pride. “Yep.” Photos from twenty-seven different countries. Soon to be twenty-eight. He remembered dozing on the cold red sand in Soussusvlei, waiting for sunrise, waiting for that perfect shot. The wind blowing grit into his eyelashes, roughening the skin of his cheeks.
Nathan’s gaze was on the floor again.
Time to put the poor kid out of his misery. “Nathaaaan,” he said quietly, stepping around the counter. He slipped behind Nathan and wrapped his arms around the slender body. Let out a soft huff into the crook of Nathan’s neck and caught the whiff of a cologne that seemed too grown-up for an eighteen-year-old. Like Nathan had tried out his dad’s aftershave or something. And the way he relaxed, just for a second, into Jason’s arms made Jason want to call off the whole damn plan.
No can do.
Nathan tensed again.
“You worried about Bigsby?” Jason asked. “I told you, he’ll be too drunk by now to wonder where you are.”
Nathan was supposed to be spending UW Tacoma’s prospective students’ weekend with Joe Bigsby, a junior. But Bigsby was hardly the world’s most responsible host, and anyway, he’d seen Jason and Nathan talking at the party last night. Knew that Nathan had gone to meet Jason for coffee earlier today. Nathan was a big boy. He could handle himself.
Jason trailed his fingertips across Nathan’s chest. “Don’t be scared. I’m gonna take good care of you.”
Nathan laughed shakily. “Shut up.”
“Mm.” He nuzzled Nathan’s ear. “That’s not very nice.”
Nathan jumped a little. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean...”
Good goddamn fuck, this little nerveball needed a horse tranquilizer. Jason laughed into Nathan’s shoulder. “Relax. I know.”
So this is what eighteen years with your head up Jesus’s ass will do to you, huh? Glad my parents were atheists.
But then Nathan turned to him, and there was a flash of the playfulness Jason had seen when they’d flirted last night at the party. That expression—half mischievous, half grimly determined, made something like pride flare up in Jason’s chest. There you go. This is what you should be: happy, young, wild. Fearless. And it’s your father’s fault you aren’t.
“I, uh... I wanna kiss you.”
Jason grinned slowly. “Then why don’t you?”
Nathan smiled back—such a genuine, artless smile that guilt slammed Jason like an anvil. But he leaned down, and they kissed. God, you’re hot as fuck. Own it, Nathan. Own it. Jason hummed into Nathan’s mouth and slid a hand down to Nathan’s crotch. Nathan gasped, froze.
It’s okay. Feels good, doesn’t it?
Nathan pushed tentatively against Jason’s hand. Jason managed a fairly graceful one-handed fly pop, and tugged Nathan’s jeans down. They stayed rucked around hairy, skinny thighs. His briefs were blindingly white--God, they’re probably starched, just like his fucking Do-you-have-a-moment-to-talk-about-Jesus button-down.