Jason Banning 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 the 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, his world collapsed when senior Jason Banning 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 Banning, 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? |
Religion without faith will flounder because the former needs the latter, but faith can exist without any sort of standardized religion.
- Dog-Eared Day Dreams
- Dog-Eared Day Dreams
An excerpt from The Preacher's Son:
June. Two years ago.
Jason opened the door to his apartment and flipped on the light. Heard Nathan follow him in.
Nathan Tull. I’ve got Nathan fucking Tull in my apartment.
He paused to listen 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 that jeans hung low. So 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 want to.”
Jason filled a glass with tap water. “You want a drink first? Or, hey, you hungry?”
“No. I’m ready.” Nathan’s willingness seemed genuine enough. Even if Jason could smell the goddamn fear on him.
Jason 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, kid. 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 tried to ignore the flash of pride. “Yep.” Photos from twenty-seven different countries. Soon to be twenty-eight. He had mixed feelings about that. Civilian photographer hadn’t been number one on his list of ways to use his journalism degree. But unless he made a name for himself soon as an investigative journalist, the military was his best bet to earn himself some money post-graduation and build his resume.
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 and walking over to Nathan. He slipped behind him and wrapped his arms around the slender body. Let out a soft huff into the crook of Nathan’s neck and then caught a 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’s body was rigid with tension.
“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 Willamette’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.”
“That’s not very nice.”
Nathan jumped a little. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”
Good goddamn fuck, it must be exhausting to be in this guy’s head. Jason laughed into Nathan’s shoulder. “Relax. I know.”
The little nerveball needed a horse tranquilizer. So this is what eighteen years in Jesusland will do to you, huh? Glad my parents were atheists.
Jason almost called the whole thing off. Even his plan wasn’t worth the stress of fucking somebody who was terrified he was gonna get struck down by a lightning bolt the minute a dick entered his ass.
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, kid. This is what you should be: happy, young, wild. Fearless.
“I, uh... I wanna kiss you.”
Jason grinned slowly. “Then why don’t you.”
June. Two years ago.
Jason opened the door to his apartment and flipped on the light. Heard Nathan follow him in.
Nathan Tull. I’ve got Nathan fucking Tull in my apartment.
He paused to listen 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 that jeans hung low. So 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 want to.”
Jason filled a glass with tap water. “You want a drink first? Or, hey, you hungry?”
“No. I’m ready.” Nathan’s willingness seemed genuine enough. Even if Jason could smell the goddamn fear on him.
Jason 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, kid. 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 tried to ignore the flash of pride. “Yep.” Photos from twenty-seven different countries. Soon to be twenty-eight. He had mixed feelings about that. Civilian photographer hadn’t been number one on his list of ways to use his journalism degree. But unless he made a name for himself soon as an investigative journalist, the military was his best bet to earn himself some money post-graduation and build his resume.
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 and walking over to Nathan. He slipped behind him and wrapped his arms around the slender body. Let out a soft huff into the crook of Nathan’s neck and then caught a 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’s body was rigid with tension.
“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 Willamette’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.”
“That’s not very nice.”
Nathan jumped a little. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean--”
Good goddamn fuck, it must be exhausting to be in this guy’s head. Jason laughed into Nathan’s shoulder. “Relax. I know.”
The little nerveball needed a horse tranquilizer. So this is what eighteen years in Jesusland will do to you, huh? Glad my parents were atheists.
Jason almost called the whole thing off. Even his plan wasn’t worth the stress of fucking somebody who was terrified he was gonna get struck down by a lightning bolt the minute a dick entered his ass.
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, kid. This is what you should be: happy, young, wild. Fearless.
“I, uh... I wanna kiss you.”
Jason grinned slowly. “Then why don’t you.”