16. Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen

Allen

Allen stared at the printed proposal on the desk, absently tapping the eraser of his pencil on the top of the page as he read through it one more time. The library had already closed for the day, and his 5:30 p.m. deadline was fast approaching. The proposal was probably about as good as it was going to get, he knew. He’d already spoken with two of the city council members who were in support of the expanded after-school program he and Annabeth had developed, but the other members of the city council were toss-ups. He hoped he’d done a good enough job explaining the benefits of the program to the community and how the added cost would be worth it.

Just as he’d flipped back to the first page of the five-page report, there was a light knock at the office door, and Annabeth peeked in. Her eyes were soft but showed a hint of concern.

“Hey, Allen. How’s it going? ”

“Not bad, actually,” he said with a smile and nod. He was happy to be able to tell her that. He had been feeling surprisingly okay most of the day. Much more like himself. The exhaustion he’d been fighting that morning had even lifted shortly after lunchtime, when Greg had come back and brought takeout from Allen’s favorite sandwich shop in town. “I was just about to email this proposal out. Did you want to take a look before I do?”

“No, no, I’m sure it’s fine,” she said, and he gave her a short nod before turning back to the computer.

“Great. So I’ll get it sent off, and then I’ll shoot Greg a text. Do you...” He hesitated for only a second, the part of his mind that hated feeling like he was a burden warring with the other part that just knew he shouldn’t—couldn’t—be at the library alone right now, regardless of how well the day had gone. He let out a sharp breath and then looked back up at Annabeth, who still stood there in the doorway, watching him with a kind expression. “Uh, that is, do you mind waiting until Greg can get here? It should only take him a few minutes.”

“I don’t mind at all.”

“Thanks. I’ll hurry here. Let me just text him first, then I’ll send that email, and... yeah.”

Annabeth chuckled quietly. “No rush, Allen. Really.”

He gave her another nod, and she seemed to pause for a moment, studying him with her soft smile. Maybe she wanted to talk, to ask him something or other, but instead, she just said, “You look like you’re feeling a bit better today. And I’m really happy about that.”

He’d known Annabeth for over a decade now. The two of them had worked together at the library since shortly before he and Greg had gotten married, and he’d consider them to be pretty close. She certainly knew he struggled with his mental health, although she didn’t really know any of the specifics. Despite that, he did know she was someone he could absolutely trust, and so, he should probably tell her a little more... of something.

He swallowed tightly and lowered his eyes to the proposal again, twirling his pencil around in his fingers. “I am, yeah. I saw my therapist on Monday, and that really helped. Plus, Greg...” Allen shook his head as thoughts of his husband distracted him momentarily. He smiled. “Greg’s just been wonderful. He’s—”

“Isn’t he always wonderful?” Annabeth cut in teasingly, and when Allen looked up, she was grinning at him, her arms crossed over her chest.

He couldn’t suppress a smile, and he leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “Well, I dunno. I mean, he leaves his dirty socks lying around in the living room. And he hogs the covers at night. And he puts the toilet paper roll on in the wrong direction. I’m really not sure why I still put up with him.”

That got a chuckle from his coworker, and Allen found himself smiling yet again. Even still, he sobered up quickly when he remembered how their conversation had started. He cleared his throat.

“He is wonderful, and he’s been reminding me...” Allen shook his head again, and his smile tightened a little. “You, too, really. You and Greg and everyone in this community—you’ve all been reminding me of—of why... I’m... here.”

She’d read between the lines, he knew. Annabeth was a smart woman. Smart and caring and kind. And she did know him well, even if he’d never really opened up to her about everything.

He risked looking back up at her, and he saw the slow evolution of emotions in her eyes as she processed his words. Her smile faded to a frown, and then she pursed her lips and nodded.

“You’re such an important part of this community, Allen,” she said gently. “I know you know that, but just in case you need to hear it again, I’ll tell you. You make this community better by just being here. You... make me a better person. And you bring joy and hope and happiness to all the kids who come in here every day.” She inhaled sharply and held his gaze. “You’re loved and important. And I’m so happy to know you. I’m so happy you’re here, Allen. Please... please don’t ever forget that. Okay?”

There were tears in the corners of his eyes now, and Allen blinked them back, willing himself not to cry. He nodded. “O-okay,” he managed, but his voice trembled a bit.

With another gentle smile, Annabeth tipped her head toward the main room. “I’ll just go finish tidying up until Greg gets here.”

“Greg, yeah. I’ll—I’ll go ahead and text him right now. Shouldn’t be long. Thank you,” he said. And then, because he was feeling quite overwhelmed, he repeated it again. “Thank you, Annabeth.”

She nodded and then turned and left.

Allen swiped at his eyes, brushing away the tears that hadn’t really fallen. Then he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and opened up his messaging app to text his husband.

***

“Glad the mushrooms were on sale, and the daikon too. Were you thinking ground turkey or pork?” Allen stopped next to Greg at the meat counter of the grocery store, scanning the selections.

“Pork, I think. It’s more authentic Japanese, and I think that’s what I want tonight.” Greg leaned over slightly and shook his head. “Though with these prices, maybe we’ll just need to go vegetarian soon. ”

Allen laughed, and Greg straightened up and slipped his arm around Allen’s shoulders as Jillian, the butcher, came out through a set of double doors and stepped up behind the counter.

“Hiya, Greg, Allen. What can I help you with?” Jillian said as she started putting on some plastic gloves.

Allen was quiet as Greg greeted Jillian, asked how her two children were doing, and then requested half a pound of ground pork. And as Greg was prone to do, he stuck around for another minute or two, chatting with Jillian about something or other. Allen tried to focus, but he found himself having a hard time listening and following the conversation. Eventually, another customer stepped up behind them, and Greg politely said goodbye. Allen and Greg then continued on a familiar route around the small grocery store, picking up a few more things on the way—some milk and a few spices and a container of Greg’s favorite local brand of salsa. By the time they’d checked out and headed back to their car with their couple of bags of groceries, it was nearly six thirty, and the beautiful sunny skies from earlier had darkened as clouds threatened to bring an early evening storm.

Together, they loaded the groceries into the back of the SUV, and Allen climbed into his seat as Greg put the shopping cart away. A minute later, they were on their way home, and just as they turned out of the parking lot, the rain started up. It was immediately a heavy downpour, huge droplets pounding the windshield and gusts of wind pushing their small SUV around on the road.

Greg talked casually as he drove, completely unperturbed by the weather. And Allen did his best to keep up. But just as it had been with Jillian at the grocery store, he was only catching about half of what Greg was saying. He was just too tired—the exhaustion that had been plaguing him for the last few days beginning to creep back in. Their short trip to the supermarket seemed to have used up all of whatever energy Allen had left .

He hoped he could still manage to help Greg make dinner. He also hoped he had an appetite by the time dinner was ready.

“So, I already have a buyer for one of those photos I took when we were in Friday Harbor,” Greg said as they pulled into their driveway a few minutes later.

“Oh?” Allen unbuckled his seat belt, but didn’t move, not super keen on rushing out into the pouring rain. Greg seemed to feel the same. He shut off the engine but just sat there, staring off at the house.

“Yeah. I sent the unedited proofs to Mickey Stone—you remember her?” When Allen shook his head, Greg continued. “She stopped in at the Salmon Days Festival last year, and she’s been emailing me every couple of months since, asking for new proofs. She was looking for something very specific, but she didn’t really know exactly what.”

“And one of the Friday Harbor photos was it, huh?”

“Yep. The one with the pelicans just taking off from the water.”

“Ah, yeah. I liked that one too,” Allen said, smiling as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the headrest. “It was peaceful. And the sunset—those vivid colors, and the reflection in the water. And then the birds too.”

A sense of calm washed over him, just thinking about that view and the trip, and he remembered then that they’d mentioned maybe taking a vacation up there—just going to visit, not for something work related for Greg.

“What are you thinking, darling? Your smile, it’s... You look happy.” Greg’s hand covered his, and Allen turned his hand over so they could intertwine their fingers.

The touch felt warm and welcoming, and the same sense of calm and contentment that he’d been feeling bloomed even more in his chest. He looked down at where their hands were now joined, sitting on his thigh, and he nodded. “I was just remembering that trip to Friday Harbor. We should go again. For, um, vacation this time, though.”

“We should,” Greg agreed, and then he lifted Allen’s hand and brought it to his lips for a gentle kiss. “You get the time off from work, and I’ll make it happen. And I’ll even leave my camera at home, just like you said.”

Allen laughed lightly and shook his head. “You don’t have to do that. But a vacation sounds wonderful. Really, really... wonderful.”

Greg pressed his lips to Allen’s knuckles again and then lowered their hands back to Allen’s thigh. With a sigh, Greg leaned forward and looked out the front windshield. “It’s not letting up. Guess we’ll just have to deal with it. Ready?”

While Greg headed around to the back of the SUV to grab the bags of groceries, Allen made the short trip to the front door. By the time Allen reached the front porch and stepped up under the overhang, he was dripping wet. He might have been laughing if he wasn’t also so tired. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys just as Greg jogged up behind him, and for the first time that day, his hand started to shake just a little.

“Whew, it’s really coming down,” Greg said, and then, after a pause, during which Allen was unsuccessful at getting the key in the lock, Greg added, “You okay there, darling?”

Allen nodded but dropped his hand from the door. “Just tired, and... can you help?”

“Of course,” Greg replied without hesitation. After setting the grocery bags down on the porch, Greg gently reached up and took the keys from Allen, then opened up the door and pushed it inward. Beans barked and jumped around in the entryway, though he calmed after a light command from Greg to back off.

And then Greg’s arm was around Allen’s waist, giving him the support he hadn’t even known he’d needed .

“Thanks, dear. I-I don’t know what’s... I’m not feeling bad. Just tired. Suddenly really, really tired.” It was the truth, at least, and Allen let Greg help him inside and over to the couch to sit.

“Here we go, here we go,” Greg said quietly as he lowered them down onto the couch, settling into the seat next to Allen. “Just rest here for a few minutes, darling. Is there anything I can get you? Water, maybe?”

His chest felt tight and heavy, and he closed his eyes and shook his head as he leaned back into the couch cushions. “No, no, I’ll be fine in a minute, I’m sure,” he reassured Greg, even though he wasn’t sure at all. He had no idea where this exhaustion had come from or what to do about it.

Soft lips pressed gently against his temple. “Okay. Let me get you a blanket, though. It’s almost cold in here, and with the rain...”

He didn’t protest, and Greg left and returned a moment later, then carefully laid a lightweight blanket over Allen and kissed him again, on the forehead this time.

“I’m going to get the groceries and start dinner. You can join me when you’re feeling better? Is that okay, darling? Or if you want, I can put the groceries away and come back to sit with you.”

The words ran together, and Allen screwed his eyes shut tighter as he tried to follow. “Um...” He hated the brain fog, the fuzziness, the whatever else it was that made it so he couldn’t really answer Greg’s questions. So instead, he nodded. “You can, um... Yeah, that’s fine.” Somehow, he knew his answer was wrong. But Greg just brushed another kiss on his forehead.

“I’ll be right back,” he murmured, and Allen nodded.

He heard the sounds of Greg moving around the house—first opening the front door to get the bags of groceries he’d left outside, then heading into the kitchen. Vaguely, Allen thought that he should get up and help. Or at least get up and go change out of his work clothes, which were still wet from the rain. But before he could make any decision, the couch shifted, and he felt Greg’s warmth next to him, a solid arm around his shoulders and soft lips grazing his cheek.

“The food’s put away. I’ll cook in a bit, after I know you’re comfortable.”

“I’m sorry, I—” Allen stopped himself, let out a long breath, and leaned into Greg as Greg’s arm tightened around his shoulders. The embrace was immediately comforting. It didn’t chase away his exhaustion, but it made him feel all of his husband’s love. And his words came a little easier. “Can you help me upstairs? I should change and probably rest. I’m tired.”

“Of course,” Greg said quietly and without hesitation. Another kiss brushed against his temple, and then Greg shifted away, stood, and helped Allen to his feet.

He let Greg help him, although with how tired he felt, he realized he probably didn’t have much choice. But they made it upstairs, and Greg led him to sit on the bed.

“Let me grab you some dry clothes,” Greg murmured with a light kiss to Allen’s forehead. He left and returned a moment later, kneeling in front of Allen with his hands resting on Allen’s thighs. “May I undress you, darling?”

Allen could only nod, though something inside of him reacted to Greg’s words with a familiar desire. Greg’s hands slid gently up his thighs and then his stomach and chest, and Allen closed his eyes and let himself feel loved as Greg’s fingers carefully worked down the buttons of his shirt. The tips of Greg’s fingers brushed against his exposed skin as each button came undone, burning a trail down his chest. And then Greg’s lips were on his, kissing him lightly, tenderly. The bed shifted, and a warm hand smoothed across his abdomen to settle at his opposite hip. He turned slightly to meet Greg at a better angle, and their lips moved together in tandem for another moment. The kiss didn’t become deeper or more intense. But Greg’s hands moved up to his chest again, splaying out and then gently pushing his shirt off his shoulders. The touch felt intimate, like there was an entire three decades of love packed into the simple gesture.

With another light kiss, Greg pulled back, and Allen opened his eyes to watch as Greg continued undressing him. Deft fingers, strong and steady, slipped off Allen’s shoes and socks, then unfastened his belt and the button at the top of his slacks.

“Lift your hips?” Greg’s voice was low and so gentle, and Allen nodded before closing his eyes again and then pushing himself up off the bed just enough so Greg could slip off his slacks.

He wasn’t so tired that he didn’t react when Greg’s hands caressed up his calves a moment later, and he let a soft moan escape him. The touch continued, light and undemanding, first up to his knees and then along the outsides of his thighs, stopping right at the hem of his boxer briefs. Allen sighed contentedly as Greg’s hands then drifted inward, his thumbs rubbing in slow circles. There was a shift—one hand pressing more strongly than the other for just a moment—and Allen inhaled deeply when he felt Greg’s lips place a warm, open-mouthed kiss just on the inside of his right knee. He reached out to set his hand over one of Greg’s as Greg began working his way up along Allen’s inner thigh with the same slow, lingering kisses.

“Is this okay?” Greg asked quietly as his lips stopped just below the bottom hem of Allen’s briefs and his free hand rubbed gently along Allen’s thigh again. “I can stop or keep going.”

“Hmm.” His noncommittal answer didn’t really help Greg, he knew, but he didn’t know how to respond otherwise. He was tired, but both his body and his mind craved his husband’s love and closeness. So maybe that was his answer. “Will you just cuddle with me in bed for a bit? I-I think I might be too tired for anything else, but I... want you to stay here with me,” he said, and when he opened his eyes, he saw Greg nod softly as he rested his cheek against Allen’s thigh.

“We can do that. Anything you want, darling.” Greg pushed himself up off his spot on the floor, then he leaned in and kissed Allen’s forehead. “Here’s your dry clothes,” he said, picking up the T-shirt and shorts he’d set next to Allen a few minutes before. “I’ll go change too, and I’ll be right back. And then we can lie here together for a bit, and we can talk about...” Greg paused, but only briefly. “Ah, our trip back to Friday Harbor! We can talk about that. How does that sound?”

Greg’s eyes sparkled with love and enthusiasm, though Allen also saw a hint of concern in them as well, which was understandable. The thought of their maybe-vacation made him smile, however, and he closed his eyes for a long second and nodded.

“That would be perfect.”

After another light kiss to Allen’s forehead, Greg picked up Allen’s wet clothes from the floor and bed, then moved away toward the clothes hamper and dresser. Allen watched him for a moment, and when Greg pulled his own T-shirt off, Allen stared unabashedly, admiring his husband’s strong, lean body. He felt the familiar stirring of arousal, and a big part of him wanted to tell Greg not to bother putting on a dry shirt, or pants for that matter.

Maybe that would be for later, though. Maybe tonight, after cuddling and talking and dinner and maybe a movie and a shower together.

Greg glanced over at him and caught his eye just as he pulled a clean T-shirt out of the dresser. Greg’s eyebrows lifted in question, and Allen laughed quietly and shook his head.

“Later, I think?”

Greg grinned and nodded. “Whatever you want, darling. ”

A couple of minutes after that, Allen snuggled up next to his husband, in the spot that was just made for him, and he closed his eyes as he let his breathing deepen. Greg smelled good. And felt good. And... and Allen felt good in Greg’s arms. Warm and comfortable and loved.

A wave of gratitude hit him, and he pushed himself up just enough to press his lips to Greg’s for a brief kiss. When they parted, he settled back in his spot, with his head resting in the crook of Greg’s shoulder, his arm draped over Greg’s midsection, and one leg hitched up over Greg’s. Greg brushed a kiss against the top of his head.

“Comfortable?”

“Mm-hmm,” Allen answered sleepily. He didn’t want to fall asleep, but he felt himself drifting in that direction. “Maybe too comfortable. I’m going to fall asleep like this. We should talk. Keep me awake.”

A warm hand settled on Allen’s forearm and then caressed upward to his elbow gently.

“I can definitely talk. But if you need to sleep—”

“No. No, I want to talk,” Allen cut in, and he tilted his head back until he could see Greg’s eyes. “Tell me about...”

He trailed off as his stomach dropped quite suddenly, the uncomfortable feeling slamming against him and nearly knocking the breath out of him. He knew what he should say. He should say “our trip to Friday Harbor.” Because that was something he was looking forward to and something easy and nonconfrontational. And Greg would start talking quietly while rubbing his forearm softly, and it would be comfortable and warm, and he’d fall asleep within minutes.

But “our trip to Friday Harbor” were not the words on the tip of his tongue. No, what had suddenly popped into his head was much less relaxing to think about. He’d been doing such a good job of ignoring it the last few days, and he almost wanted to curse now as the two words settled in his mind.

Jack Mountain.

He watched Greg tilt his head slightly and give Allen a kind smile. Then Greg kissed his forehead again. “What is it you both want and don’t want to talk about?” Greg asked, his voice as gentle as his kiss. And Allen almost laughed at Greg’s intuitiveness. Greg squeezed him lightly. “And I’ll remind you of what Dr. Schultz said, and that’s that getting things out in the open earlier is always the best thing to do, even if you think it might be difficult to talk about. And I’ll also remind you that I love you. Always. And if something is bothering you, I want to know about it so I can fix it. Or at least so I can support you in the best way possible.”

It was true. Greg was right, as usual. They should talk. He shouldn’t hold everything in, even if it was difficult. And though Greg was very good at interpreting Allen’s moods and guessing what Allen might be thinking about, he couldn’t expect Greg to know and understand if Allen didn’t tell him.

Allen settled his head back on Greg’s shoulder. “You know me too well,” he said quietly. “I wanted to say, um, that we should talk about going to Friday Harbor. But then I... then I remembered...” He trailed off as something tightened uncomfortably in his chest, and he was unable to say it.

Jack Mountain. That trip—that adventure—that Allen just knew Greg really, really wanted to go on. Would be going on, in fact, if not for Allen’s anxiety and depression and struggles all forcing Greg to stay home. Forcing him to miss out on what would surely be an amazing, life-changing experience.

And that last fact—the fact that Allen and his mental health issues were the cause of Greg missing this incredible opportunity—it sort of compounded everything, setting off this huge spiral of negative thoughts. He closed his eyes and clung to his husband as all the words he’d been so good at keeping locked away all day now zipped around in his head.

Needy. Disruptive. Burden. Shouldn’t be here.

“Please... please just talk to me about Friday Harbor?” Allen mumbled, pressing his cheek harder against Greg’s shoulder. “I think that’s what I actually need right now.”

There was a short pause, and Allen tried to ignore the fact that he could feel Greg tense up slightly.

But then Greg answered with a quiet “okay, of course,” and he started once again to gently rub his hand up and down Allen’s forearm as he began speaking, his voice low and soft and kind.

The warm, comfortable spot became warm and comfortable again, and Allen let out a long, slow breath and listened to his husband’s budding plans for their maybe-vacation. He could ignore that other voice for now.

Though if he hoped to be successful in convincing Greg to go on that work trip, to not give up such an important thing that had to matter to him a whole lot, he knew the conversation would have to happen soon. Very soon.