21. Chapter Twenty-One

Chapter Twenty-One

Greg

Sometime in the middle of the night, Greg had gotten up to open the window and let some fresh air in the room. He’d then crawled back into bed with his husband, and they’d cuddled more until they’d fallen back asleep.

It was early morning when he woke again, this time to the sounds of birds chirping in the forest outside and Allen’s quiet snoring next to him. He lay there for a few minutes just listening, feeling so content in the normalcy and peacefulness of the moment. Then he shifted onto his side to face Allen. Allen slept calmly, as he had all night long, and even though Allen was facing the other direction, Greg could see the lack of tension in his husband’s back and shoulders and the way his breathing was slow and steady and deep. And that knowledge brought him a small measure of hope.

He was desperate to know he’d made the right decision in bringing them here. By all accounts, the way the previous afternoon and evening had gone, he should be feeling a resounding Yes! And he was hopeful. He really was.

But even with that hope, he couldn’t forget all the ups and downs of the past couple of weeks, including the lowest lows he and Allen had probably ever had together. He couldn’t forget all of the anxiety, the panic, the depression. Their argument. Allen’s confession that there were times he didn’t want to be alive anymore.

All of that really tempered the hope wanting to burst out.

Still, as he let his eyes wander across his husband’s back, down to where his backside disappeared under the comforter, a fullness bloomed in his chest. Yesterday really had felt amazing. The relaxing dinner, the night out under the stars, s’mores, dancing, making love... Allen had seemed to have sort of given himself permission to be taken care of, permission to be whatever he needed to be, and Greg had loved being there for him—there with him in every moment.

In fact, the whole day yesterday had only further solidified his decision about cutting back on work and solo travel and challenging hikes. Any lingering doubt he’d had about how much he might miss doing those things just... wasn’t there anymore. Instead, he was feeling a renewed sense of commitment, an even deeper love for his husband, and he couldn’t wait to find out what this new phase of their lives had in store for them.

He also couldn’t wait to share all of this with Allen.

Greg scooted a few inches closer. He yearned to reach out and touch his husband—to trail his fingertips lightly over Allen’s skin and make him shiver. Then kiss him. Everywhere. Do whatever would make Allen feel good. Hell, Greg wouldn’t even mind just staying here in bed all day. Just touching and cuddling and talking. Just being together .

But he also didn’t want to wake Allen up yet—he wanted Allen to get as much sleep as he needed. So instead, he moved to the opposite side of the bed, careful to not make the bed shift around too much, and crawled out from under the covers, watching Allen the whole time to be sure he didn’t wake. Quietly, he sifted through the clothes Darryl had picked up for them, setting aside a simple gray T-shirt and a pair of black joggers for Allen and selecting similar clothes for himself. After he dressed, he grabbed his phone and headed out into the kitchen to make himself a cup of coffee.

Greg spent the next half hour or so checking and responding to text messages from Joe (Beans was completely worn out from playing with Poppy in the backyard for hours on end), Annabeth (the city council had already reviewed Allen’s proposal at their meeting Thursday morning and had tentatively approved the additional funding Allen had requested), and a potential client (would Greg have his regular booth at Issaquah’s Salmon Days Festival next month? and could he bring a medium-sized print of “Misty Mountain Sunset” from his Mount Rainier National Park collection?).

Just when he was about to get up and go check on Allen, he heard quiet footsteps padding down the hallway to his left. He glanced up as Allen emerged, barefoot and yawning, his hair still ruffled from sleep, and an immediate warmth bloomed in Greg’s chest.

He cleared his throat and set his phone down. “Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?” he asked, pushing his chair back and standing.

Allen didn’t answer except with a small smile and a nod, but he closed the rest of the distance between them and settled right into Greg’s embrace. Greg wrapped his arms around his husband and inhaled deeply, humming with content as he pressed a light kiss to Allen’s cheek. He loved this—this moment, his husband, this moment with his husband. And it just made him feel all of his earlier convictions even more strongly.

“I’d love to make you breakfast, if you’re up for it,” Greg said quietly, resting his cheek against the top of Allen’s head. “Something simple, maybe? A toasted bagel with cream cheese and strawberries?”

He could feel as Allen smiled against him and buried his head deeper into Greg’s chest. “You know that’s my favorite. But, I, um... Darryl got all of that?”

“He did.”

“Because you asked him... because you knew it would make me happy.” Allen tilted his head back, and there was another small, soft smile on his face that made Greg’s heart stutter. God, it was everything. A real, true smile. Something honest and full of love and not dulled by pain and anxiety and uncertainty.

He bent down and kissed Allen slowly, tenderly, then pulled back. “I did, and I did,” he admitted quietly, and then he pressed another kiss to Allen’s cheek before he dropped his arms from around his husband. “Would you like coffee? Or maybe tea?”

“Yeah, um, tea, I think. That’s probably best.”

With a nod, Greg started over into the kitchen, and Allen followed. “We had that chamomile and lavender tea last night, but I think I saw a few other teas as well. Green tea, maybe, and then something with ginger and honey.”

Together, they rummaged through the cupboard to find the stash of about five different types of teas. Allen chose that “something with ginger and honey” Greg had thought he’d seen, although it ended up being a blend of lemon balm and ginger. Then, as Allen settled at the table, Greg got started preparing the tea and their breakfast.

The conversation stayed light, and that hopeful feeling inside him continued to grow, buoying his spirit. Allen was grinning, joking with him, and laughing, and it all just seemed right and made so much more sense than everything else had the last few weeks.

So when he moved their prepared bagels and tea and coffee to the table and then sat down next to Allen a few minutes later, the question slipped out before he could think whether or not he should have asked it.

“Should we go out somewhere today?”

As soon as he saw Allen blink and lower his eyes to his bagel, Greg realized his mistake. His voice had been too eager, too expectant, like he was hoping or expecting Allen would say yes. Like that mattered for Greg’s own happiness. And of course, that was the farthest thing from the truth. He immediately opened his mouth to backtrack, but stopped when Allen looked back up at him, smiling.

“Actually, yeah, I was thinking we could,” he said. “Remember that trail along the southern coast, by American Camp? I can’t recall the name of the trail, but we went there a few summers back with Ron and Faye?”

Greg nodded slowly. “South Beach, yeah.”

“I think it’s fairly flat and—and I should be able to handle it. It’s got some really gorgeous views, especially on a day like today when it’s clear and sunny.” Allen blinked, and his smile faltered just enough that Greg shook his head slightly.

“It’s an easy trail, yes, but darling, I shouldn’t have implied—”

“It’ll be good,” Allen cut in, his fuller smile returning and a twinkle in his eyes. “Relaxing. And I think the fresh air will be good for me. We should go.”

Greg hesitated. He wanted to agree emphatically, immediately start planning their day, jog out to the SUV to grab his hiking backpack so he could load it up with water and trail-appropriate snacks. He wanted to believe the twinkle in Allen’s eyes, not the falter in his smile. And he wanted to see this as a positive thing—Allen’s willingness to go out somewhere and do something. But something in the pit of Greg’s stomach wouldn’t let him do any of that. At least, not without talking all of it through with Allen first.

“It sounds perfect,” he said carefully. He turned his chair slightly so he was facing Allen more, and then he reached over with one hand and cupped Allen’s cheek as he studied his husband’s eyes. So wonderfully kind. A soft gray-blue. The same eyes he’d fallen in love with so many years ago. He wanted to find all the answers there—all the answers and all the certainties. But he saw a hint of something else, and his smile tightened just a little. “I’d love to go hiking with you, always. But not at the expense of your health, or just because you think I need to or want to, or if you still need to rest.”

Greg let his hand slide down from Allen’s cheek to his neck, and he tugged gently, pulling them together so he could kiss Allen’s forehead.

“I promise you,” he continued, “I will be perfectly content staying here and taking care of you all day. I will be perfectly happy, always, to just be here with you.”

“And I promise you, I wouldn’t have suggested it if I weren’t ready and sure,” Allen countered, though his tone stayed light. A playful smile lit up his face as he picked up his bagel. “I mean, if you want to stay here that badly, I can always just go by myself.”

A light huff of laughter escaped Greg, and he shook his head. He still wasn’t quite convinced—it seemed too soon, and he’d been mistaken to even suggest they head out—but when he searched Allen’s face for any sign of reluctance or anxiety or exhaustion, he really couldn’t find it.

“I’d love to go, darling. When do you want to leave?”

** *

Greg parked the SUV in the otherwise-empty parking lot at South Beach and glanced over at his husband. Allen had been unusually talkative most of the drive, which had been great, but the last couple of minutes, he’d quieted down, and now, as Greg smiled and reached over to take Allen’s hand, his stomach twisted in a knot.

Allen was shaking.

Just barely. Just a little. But Greg could feel it.

He squeezed Allen’s hand gently, and Allen turned to him, his smile strained and not bright—nothing like it had been earlier that morning or late last night.

A string of silent curses ran through Greg’s mind, and he fought to keep his own expression neutral. He brought Allen’s hand up and brushed a soft kiss on his knuckles. “You know, maybe we should—”

“My hiking boots—they’re still in the back, right?” Allen interrupted, pulling his hand away and reaching for the door handle. “I don’t want my tennis shoes to get dusty.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Good! Let’s get going. It’s what, a couple miles, right? Easy-peasy.”

Before Greg had a chance to react, Allen was out the door, shutting it behind him. The knot in Greg’s stomach tightened again, and he closed his eyes for half a second before grabbing his cell phone, stuffing it in his pocket, and exiting the SUV. Allen was already standing at the back, staring at his hiking boots, one hand resting on Greg’s hiking backpack .

Greg stopped next to him, and Allen looked up with a small smile, though his jaw was clenched. It felt wrong. Something was wrong. Allen was pushing himself for whatever reason, and they needed to not go now. They needed to talk.

“Allen,” Greg said, his voice quiet. He bit his lower lip and shook his head again, then he took both of Allen’s hands in his. “Darling, I think we should go back. We don’t have to do this. You don’t... seem okay anymore.” It was hard to say, but it was the truth, Greg knew. Allen didn’t seem okay.

“I’m fine, Greg. Sorry if I’m worrying you. I’m—I’m...” Allen trailed off and pulled his hands away, and then he sat heavily on the back of the SUV and lowered his eyes to the ground.

“It’s okay to not be okay,” Greg said softly, and he stepped forward and then sat next to Allen, setting his hand on top of his husband’s.

But Allen shook his head. “I know. I know that. But, no, I am fine. Really. I was just—” He looked back up, a forced smile on his face, and then he twisted and reached back behind him. “Here’s your hiking boots, and mine too. We should get going, huh?”

Greg didn’t respond, but he took the dusty boots Allen handed him and then watched as Allen hiked up a leg and untied his tennis shoe to change footwear.

“You know, since it’s pretty flat and shouldn’t be too dusty, maybe we don’t really need the boots at all?” Allen said. He kicked off one of his shoes and slipped on his boot. “But it’s probably better if—if—if we... if we, you know, um...”

All the signs were there, staring him right in the face, and Greg had no idea what the hell to do about it. Allen was not okay again, well on his way to some sort of spiral, it seemed.

Maybe .

But then, maybe he was just a little nervous about doing something active—which was a good enough reason in itself to not do the thing.

Greg swallowed thickly and started changing his shoes, trying to clear his thoughts. It would be fine, either way, he decided. They’d do this little walk, maybe not even go quite to the end of the trail, and then they could head back to the cabin, and he could make sure Allen really was okay. It was a short, easy trail, after all.

By the time Greg had his hiking boots mostly on, Allen had finished and was standing, staring out to the west, toward the deep blue waters of Haro Strait. It was clear enough that they could see all the way across the strait to the southern tip of Vancouver Island looking to the west and to the northeastern part of Olympic National Forest on the mainland looking to the south.

The weather really was perfect—sunny and maybe sixty degrees, with a crisp breeze coming off the water. They’d be cool enough in the long-sleeve shirts they’d changed into before leaving the cabin. And the trail was just an easy path up on a low ledge set back a bit from the water. It was fairly straight, no real elevation changes to speak of, and very low-key.

So why was Greg so nervous?

Allen turned away from the water to look at him, and when their eyes met, he was smiling again. “Hurry up, old man. Let’s go,” Allen teased.

And Greg finally let himself smile too, because it felt good and he wanted to believe in the levity Allen was trying to infuse in the moment.

“That’s Mr. Old Geezer to you. Be respectful to your elders, you young’un!” Greg joked, earning him a laugh that sounded genuine enough. He took a deep breath as he finished double-knotting his second shoe. Then he stood, grabbed his hiking backpack, and closed the hatch on the SUV. Shouldering his pack, he turned to Allen, who reached out his hand.

“Ready?” Allen asked.

Greg didn’t want to hesitate, so he took Allen’s hand. But he held his husband’s gaze for an extra second before answering, his voice rough. “I’m ready, but I want to be sure you’re really okay. If something’s bothering you, I’d rather we talk about it now, before we go.”

A flicker of something in Allen’s eyes sent a wave of unease through him, but then Allen smiled softly and nodded. “I’m okay, really. I want to do this. I want us to do this together. Come on, Mr. Old Geezer.”

“Alright, alright,” Greg finally agreed. “But you promise to tell me if we need to turn back?”

“Yeah,” Allen said gently.

And with another nod, Greg motioned toward the trail. “Alright, let’s go, then.”

They started out at what Greg would consider a decent pace, even for him. Allen’s steps seemed confident, and they held hands as they walked. The trail, initially wide enough for vehicle traffic, narrowed after about a quarter mile until it wasn’t much more than an overgrown single-track path of partially flattened grass. Greg moved behind Allen, letting Allen take the lead so he could set the pace, and they followed along as the trail skirted the top edge of the low hills overlooking the water. It was peaceful, and he began to relax as they continued on, occasionally stopping to take in the view.

It wasn’t until they’d gone maybe a half mile or so that Greg noticed it. And it was subtle at first. Just their pace slowing down slightly and an occasional tight shrug of Allen’s shoulders. Then it became a little more obvious as Allen stopped chatting quite as much, his responses becoming slower and less articulate, their easy banter becoming stilted. The next time they paused to admire the view was when Greg really knew something was wrong.

Allen’s hands were shoved in his pockets, and his face was pale, except for his cheeks, which were flushed and red. And he was visibly shaking, his breathing heavy and his expression taut.

Greg stepped closer and was just about to ask if Allen was okay, when Allen suddenly dropped his chin to his chest and let out a shallow, shuddering breath, his whole body swaying.

“Greg? Greg, I think I—”

He reacted quickly, lunging forward to catch Allen as Allen turned to him and nearly collapsed with some sort of strangled gasp. Allen’s legs seemed to have given out completely, and he felt cold and weak in Greg’s arms.

“Greg, you—you can’t. I thought you could. I-I wanted you to. But—but you can’t,” Allen mumbled incoherently, his voice wavering as he clung tighter to Greg. “P-please don’t. Please don’t.”

“Please don’t? Please don’t what?” Greg’s heart began to race as he struggled to hold Allen upright, and he quickly glanced around them. The ground was flat enough, grassy. “Allen? Allen, let’s sit, okay?”

“Yeah. Y-yeah. I—I’m not okay.”

“I know, darling. I’ve got you, though. Here.”

Slowly, Greg managed to lower them to the ground, and then he held Allen, his heart now hammering so hard his chest hurt, as Allen’s shaking worsened and he began mumbling nonsense words, clinging to the front of Greg’s shirt and taking short, uneven breaths.

It seemed like... something akin to a panic attack. Maybe?

God, Greg didn’t really know. All he knew was how much he hoped his husband could still hear him. He pressed a kiss to Allen’s temple and started countering Allen’s words with his own quiet affirmations of love, like he always had when Allen was struggling.

And he held onto his husband tighter, tears now slipping down his cheeks.