2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

Allen

“Go on now,” Allen said, shooing Beans off the bed for the third time. The little brown terrier almost seemed to grumble, but he jumped down and plodded over to his bed in the corner of the room. Allen shook his head. “Every night it’s the same thing.”

Beans curled up and rested his head on his paws, then looked up at Allen with what Allen could only interpret as a sad, soulful look.

Allen sighed. “Don’t look at me like that. You know the rules.”

The dog’s eyes closed, and Allen settled back on the bed again, letting his body relax into the soft mattress.

He was tired. And that was an understatement, really. If not for the short nap he’d gotten on the drive home from Anacortes, he might already be asleep. If he had to guess, he’d say his current state of exhaustion was probably because Thursday night had been less than restful for him. It had been one of those nights, his sleep plagued by bad dreams that had left him more than anxious when he’d woken up and unable to relax and fall asleep again.

It was silly. Silly and frustrating, actually. He’d handled lack of sleep a lot better when he was in his teens and twenties and even in his thirties. But now that he was in his mid-fifties—having just turned fifty-four earlier this year—the restless nights seemed to hit him much harder.

They didn’t come that often, thankfully, and he wasn’t entirely sure what had triggered this one. He felt like he was in a good place now. In fact, he’d been in a good place for a long time, and it had been years, probably, since he’d experienced the level of anxiety he’d woken up with in the middle of the night last night.

There had been a time, decades ago now, when the dreams had been much more frequent and when he’d still remembered them as he awoke—dreams filled with impossible darkness and intense loneliness, dreams where he’d been running down an endless hallway, desperately trying to get away from whatever monstrosity had been chasing him. They’d been particularly disruptive when his relationship with Greg had been new and exciting, which had at least made sense to him. And now, although they were few and far between, they were no less disorienting and tended to stick with him longer—or at least the exhaustion did.

From downstairs, Allen heard the door to the garage shut, and a second later, Beans jumped up from his spot in the corner and rushed out of the room, barking his little head off. Allen sighed and sat up again, switching on the light next to him.

“Did you miss me? You did, didn’t you, you silly dog. Silly little dog. Ha. I missed you too, buddy.” Greg’s voice carried up from the bottom of the stairs, deep but happy and enthusiastic.

Allen ran a hand roughly through his hair and then pushed himself up to stand as he heard Beans bounding up the stairs. In a sudden burst of wiry brown fur, the dog sprinted into the room, zoomed to the far end, spun around and leapt up onto the bed, and then ran, still going as fast as his little legs would carry him, back out and down the hallway.

Greg’s laughter echoed along with Beans’s barking. “Shh, now, you’re gonna wake up the whole neighborhood, you little rascal.”

Beans sped back through the room once more, circling around Allen three times before he jumped up on the bed again and plopped down right in Allen’s spot, now panting hard.

With another sigh, Allen shook his head at the dog. “Off now, Beans. Go to bed.” He didn’t really like using his stern voice with the dog, but at the same time, Beans’s antics were just not amusing right now, and—

Allen frowned and clenched his jaw. He recognized the particular evolution of emotions he’d been having, culminating in this short-fused intolerance of things he usually found silliness and joy and amusement in, and he didn’t like it.

From behind him, Greg’s light laughter continued as Greg entered the room. “Sorry. You know how excited he gets to see us after we’ve been gone,” Greg said.

Gentle hands slipped around Allen’s waist, and he closed his eyes and tried to let his tension go. He leaned back into his husband and tilted his head as Greg’s lips found the side of his neck. Light kisses trailed down to the collar of his T-shirt. Allen let out a short, shuddering breath and reined in his irritation with the dog, but not before Greg seemed to sense that something wasn’t quite right.

“What is it?” Greg asked, his hand now rubbing gently up and down Allen’s arm. “Are you feeling okay, darling?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I think so. I’m just tired, and the dog”—Allen motioned to where Beans still lay, sprawled out on top of the comforter—“he’s...” Allen just trailed off and shook his head. “It’s fine. I’m just... I’m tired.”

Greg’s hand stopped just above Allen’s elbow, and he squeezed gently. “Beans, bed. Now.”

The dog immediately jumped to attention at Greg’s firm command, and he hopped down from the bed, trotted over to his place in the corner, and lay back down. The minor annoyance Allen felt at the fact that the dog appeared to go out of his way to ignore Allen and listen to Greg quickly faded when Greg laughed lightly and kissed Allen’s neck again.

“Don’t be mad at him. He means well,” Greg said. There was another kiss low on his neck, this one lingering a tad longer. “You can be mad at me if you want. Sorry I took so long. And I’ve still gotta take a shower. Give me ten more minutes?”

Allen felt himself pulling away—not physically, but emotionally—and even though he recognized it, he seemed powerless to stop it. His mind raced through all the words he knew to be true: Greg loved him; there was no real reason to be upset; he wasn’t really upset anyway; Greg would be quick; unloading the trailer alone was a lot of work, and Greg hadn’t taken a long time on purpose; he was probably just as tired as Allen. Yet, even though Allen knew the words to be true, other, more negative thoughts—thoughts he hadn’t had in quite a while—swirled around, drowning out all the truth.

Unworthy. Unloved. Needy. Disruptive. Burden. Burden. Burden.

An intense emotional numbness seemed to suck all the air from his lungs. He shook his head, not in response to Greg’s question, but to try and rid his brain of the intrusive thoughts.

“Allen?” Greg stepped around in front of him, paused very briefly, and then wrapped him up in a gentle embrace. “Where are you right now, darling?”

“Not where I want to be,” he said quietly, knowing Greg would understand .

“What can I do?” There was another light kiss on his cheek, and Allen leaned against his husband. When he didn’t answer—because he didn’t really know the answer—Greg’s arms tightened around him. “I’ll be quick, and then, let me hold you while you sleep tonight.”

Allen gave a short nod, and Greg released him, brushed a light kiss on his lips, and tilted his head toward the bathroom. “Five minutes,” he promised.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s okay. I’m fine. Don’t rush. I’m... fine.” Allen exhaled and looked down, shaking his head again.

Liar. Burden.

Greg’s arms were around him almost immediately, and he let his husband’s embrace surround him. It was warm and familiar, and he buried his head into Greg’s chest and closed his eyes.

“Don’t let your brain trick you, Allen,” Greg said softly. Then there was a small huff, not quite laughter. “Oh, boy, it’s been a while. It can hit at any time, huh? I’m so sorry, Allen. I love you. You know that, right? You’re loved. So much.”

“I know.”

“Five minutes. Or less.”

Allen nodded, and this time, when Greg let him go, they kissed briefly, and it felt just a tiny bit better. He pulled away and looked up at his husband. Greg was watching him with concern, his kind eyes studying Allen’s face.

Allen let himself smile, even though it was a bit strained, and then he reached up and touched Greg’s temple. “I’m giving you a few more gray hairs, aren’t I?”

Greg laughed lightly. “They make me look distinguished.”

“A distinguished old geezer.”

“Indeed.”

Allen closed his eyes again as Greg leaned forward and gently kissed his forehead .

“Make yourself comfortable, and I’ll be right back,” Greg reassured him, and when Allen nodded, Greg seemed to pull away with reluctance. Then he disappeared into the bathroom.

From his spot in the corner, Beans whimpered a little, and Allen glanced over his shoulder at the dog, frowning. His irritation was still there, even though the poor pup hadn’t done anything wrong. And he hated that.

Allen sat heavily on the edge of the bed and then patted his lap. “Beanie buddy, come here,” he called quietly.

The dog lifted his head, his eyes wide and bright. Then he jumped to his feet, bounded across the room, and hopped up onto the bed, plopping down so his head rested on Allen’s thigh. Allen sat there for several minutes, stroking Beans’s fur. From the bathroom, he heard the shower turn on and then shut off, and when Greg stepped back out, still toweling his hair dry, Allen looked up, his hand pausing on Beans’s back.

There was a subtle shift in Greg’s expression, a faint hint of guilt flickering in his eyes. But it was gone before Allen could really be sure he saw it. Still, he couldn’t help the negative thoughts coming back yet again, echoes of a past he was sure he’d left behind when he’d moved to Seattle some thirty-five years ago.

Stop bothering him with this. You’re too much work. He won’t love you anymore. Burden. You’re a burden.

Allen blew out a sharp breath, and as though the dog knew their cuddle time was up, Beans jumped off the bed and shuffled over to his corner. Greg tossed his towel into the hamper next to their dresser and quickly took the spot where Beans had been. Then he wrapped both arms around Allen. Again.

“Don’t listen to it,” Greg murmured. “Listen to me instead. I love you. You’re worthy, you’re loved and valued, and you deserve all the love and all the happiness. ”

Allen heard the familiar words and clung to them, just as he clung to his husband. “Hold me?” he asked after another moment.

“Of course.”

Together, they crawled under the covers and settled in bed, and Allen let his husband’s warm embrace surround him and chase away all that other rotten stuff.

It seemed to work. Mostly.