22. Chapter Twenty-Two

Chapter Twenty-Two

Allen

Wrong. He’d been so, so wrong.

And now—now his heart was pounding hard in his chest and unevenly and skipping beats here and there, and he had to be having a heart attack. Also, he couldn’t breathe right.

He had to be dying. Right here, in the middle of the trail, in his husband’s arms.

All because he’d been wrong.

“Shh, shh. You’re okay, Allen. Listen to my voice now. I’m here, and I love you, and you’re okay. Breathe now, darling. Slow and steady.”

Greg’s voice was his only anchor, but he knew it wouldn’t help in the end. Already, he felt detached from his body. Like he didn’t belong. Like he was on his way somewhere else.

He gasped for air and managed to say something, but the words sounded incoherent even to him. “Greg, I can’t do it. Please don’t go. Please. I was wrong, and—and—and—”

His words didn’t even make sense. What was he even trying to say? Something about a mountain. And how he’d wanted Greg to—to go. But now... but now he didn’t? Now he needed Greg to stay? Maybe?

God, if he didn’t even know what he meant, how would Greg have any idea?

A sensation like sharp pinpricks rippled through his hands and up his arms, and then his chest tightened again, uncomfortable and painful. And Allen whimpered and screwed his eyes shut harder.

“I’m not going anywhere, Allen.” Lips pressed lightly against his temple. “I’m here now, and I’ll be here with you always. I’m not going anywhere.” A warm breath ruffled his hair. “I love you. You are loved and worthy and always will be. And I’m here. I’m here.” A hand caressed his back. “Breathe with me, darling. Please.”

Desperation.

He could feel it inside of him, and he could hear it in Greg’s voice. He nodded weakly, barely able to respond, but then he tried. He tried his absolute best.

He flattened one hand against Greg’s chest so he could feel as it rose and fell, keeping a slow, controlled rhythm.

“That’s it, darling.”

In and out. Slowly. There was a shudder and a hitch to his inhale, and the exhale was too fast, all wrong.

“You can do it. Slow and steady. I love you. I’m here.”

“I was going to tell you to go, though. I was—but you shouldn’t—god, I can’t—”

“Shh, shh. I’m here. I’m not going. I’m staying right here with you. Breathe now, Allen. Please.”

Greg’s hand covered Allen’s and squeezed gently, and Allen tried again. In and out. And then again. And when he managed some sort of a rhythm, he heard Greg again, counting for him this time. “Breathe in, two, three; out, two, three. There you go. Good. I love you. I’m here with you. Let’s try again. Breathe in, two, three; out, two three.”

Gradually, the sharp pinpricks dulled, and the pain in his chest—the weight crushing his lungs—lessened. Gradually, awareness came back to him. He could feel the soft material of Greg’s shirt against his palm, the reassuring and light caresses of Greg’s hand up and down his forearm, the wetness of the tears on his cheeks. And there was a slight chill in the air as a stiff breeze blew in from the water. He shivered and closed his eyes tighter.

God, what had just happened? One minute, he’d been thinking about . . . about . . .

“I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry. I—” All of his energy was gone, and he took one more deep breath in and then exhaled on a sob. “I’m sorry, Greg. But I need you.”

“You have me, Allen. I’m here. I’m here. You’re okay. You’ll be okay. Stay with me, okay?”

He heard it again—a desperation in his husband’s voice—and he nodded against Greg’s chest.

“Good, good. It’s okay. We’re here together, okay, Allen?”

They stayed that way for another few moments, and then Greg started talking again, quietly and reassuringly, his voice kind and gentle and resonant. “Do you remember, darling, on our first date, when I left my wallet at the restaurant? Ah, I thought you must have imagined me to be the most scatterbrained idiot in the world. I’d never done anything like that before, ever, and...”

Greg continued, and Allen listened as Greg recounted much of that night—how they’d had to backtrack to the restaurant to find Greg’s wallet and then missed the first half hour of the movie; how Greg had been secretly overjoyed when the only seats left in the theater had been all the way in the top back corner, giving them just a little bit of privacy; how he’d felt so happy when Allen had leaned his head on Greg’s shoulder midway through the film; how he had wanted to kiss Allen at the end of the evening but had been just a little too nervous; and how he’d absolutely loved when Allen had kissed him instead.

And the whole time Greg was speaking, Allen kept his hand solidly on Greg’s chest, feeling it rise and fall, anchoring him there.

Finally, the fogginess cleared around him enough that he felt connected with his body again. Connected and present.

Greg was still talking. Something about the day they’d adopted Beans from the local animal shelter, and Allen smiled, even as another tear slipped down his cheek.

“Stubborn little thing, still,” Greg said, and he seemed to maybe lower his cheek to rest against the top of Allen’s head.

Allen sniffled and nodded into Greg’s chest. “They warned us.”

There was a half-second pause and then a quiet huff of laughter. “They did. I think the lady’s exact words were, ‘He’s sweet, but... well, you know.’”

“I love the little stinker.”

“Me too.”

There was silence then, and Allen could hear the water down on the beach below them, lapping gently at the shore, and a low rustling of the grass in the breeze. He blinked his eyes open for the first time in however long, and though he’d known , for some reason, he was surprised that they were sitting. They were sitting there, right in the middle of the trail, right on the grass, Greg holding him with one arm around his shoulders. And... and he hadn’t died. He hadn’t been having a heart attack.

But he’d nearly collapsed, right there on the trail. Or maybe he had actually collapsed, and Greg had caught him. That seemed more like it, he thought, piecing together the bits of memories from the last... however long.

How far out were they? And would he be able to make it back to the trailhead ?

And . . .

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and then he swallowed hard as he felt Greg’s breath hitch.

“We should talk about... whatever just happened,” Greg said quietly, his hand stilling on top of Allen’s, which now rested on Greg’s thigh. “But maybe when we’re back at the cabin, and when you’re feeling okay.”

That seemed logical, although Allen’s brain wasn’t feeling super logical right now, and he wasn’t sure he could wait that long. He shook his head slightly, closed his eyes, and took a slow, measured breath.

“No?”

“No, I don’t know if . . .”

“It’s okay. I’ll help you. We’ll walk slowly, and—”

“I meant, I should tell you now. Before we go anywhere. And I don’t think I can walk yet anyway. I feel so weak. I... I’m so sorry.”

Greg kissed the top of Allen’s head again and tightened his arm around Allen’s shoulders. “We can take our time, darling. And I, um, I’m listening if you want to talk now.”

The uncertainty in Greg’s response hit him hard, and if he hadn’t already been sitting, he might have swayed on his feet. He pressed his hand into Greg’s thigh and took a long, slow breath. “Whatever just happened,” he started, his voice low and shaky, “i-it was because I’d planned to make one last argument to—to... convince you.”

“Convince me of what, darling?”

“That you shouldn’t skip Jack Mountain,” Allen said, and some deep shame tugged at his gut. It was actually physically painful. He shuddered and gulped in a lungful of air. “I didn’t—I don’t —want you to miss out on it because of me, even though—even though you already told me... ”

“Oh, Allen,” Greg breathed, and Allen felt him shake his head. “Darling, I...”

Greg trailed off, and Allen nodded into him. “I remember everything you told me, and everything you said. But I was feeling so much better last night and this morning, and then when you asked if I wanted to go out, I heard it in your voice, and—”

“That was my mistake,” Greg interrupted. “I shouldn’t have suggested anything. And I would have been perfectly happy staying at the cabin all day. Earlier this morning, in fact, I—I had been thinking how it was so wonderful.” Greg’s voice cracked on the last word, and Allen pulled back just a little and tilted his head to look up at his husband. Greg had his eyes screwed shut, and a tear fell silently down his cheek.

God, this was all so messed up. Allen was so messed up.

Broken.

Unlovable.

A burden.

Greg’s eyes opened as though he could hear Allen’s thoughts, and he began to shake his head lightly as he bit his lower lip. “This morning, Allen, I was so happy. I wish you could know what I was feeling.” A small smile inched across Greg’s face, and he reached up to cup Allen’s cheek. “I told you already that I’m not going to Jack Mountain. And I had already decided something else too, and I needed to tell you, to talk about it. But you have to understand something first, and you have to hear me and believe me, my love.”

There was a weak pulse of some unpleasant sensation in Allen’s stomach, but when Greg bent down to kiss Allen’s cheek and then whispered a soft “I love you” into Allen’s ear, the sensation faded.

“I-I’m listening,” Allen stuttered.

Greg didn’t move except to pull Allen a little tighter up against him. “It’s long overdue of me, I think,” Greg started, his voice gentle but filled with something so deep Allen’s chest almost ached just hearing it. Greg kissed Allen’s cheek again, then dropped his hand back down to cover Allen’s. “I’m going to cut back. On work. On hiking. On those solo traveling trips. I don’t want all that anymore. And it’s because I want to be with you more.”

There was a short pause, and Allen realized he’d been holding his breath. He inhaled sharply as Greg continued.

“I told you already that I wasn’t going to Jack Mountain, and I—god, Allen, I love you so much for wanting me to be happy. I love you for wanting that for me. But I realized in the last few days that I really actually don’t even want to go.”

Allen swallowed hard. “You . . . don’t?”

“No. No, I don’t want to go because you couldn’t be there with me,” Greg said. “And—and what I want—what I want more than anything else —is to just be with you . To be wherever you are, so I can take care of you, so I can love you, so I can be present with you. I want to cook you breakfast and cuddle in bed. I want to walk you to work. I want to go hiking, yes—but when you’re healthy and feeling good so we can do it together. I don’t want to be away from you anymore.”

Greg blew out a short breath and slid his hand up Allen’s arm until he was cupping Allen’s cheek again. Allen tried to duck his chin and look away, so overwhelmed with emotion, but Greg shook his head slightly.

“Allen, darling, please look at me. Please, please hear me. Hear this.”

So he did. With tears rolling down his cheeks and his lower lip trembling, Allen forced himself to hold Greg’s gaze. And he saw regret and worry in his husband’s eyes. But there was also love and a strong, powerful resolve.

“Allen, you are the single most important thing in my life, and I will be happy just knowing that you’re happy. I will be happy just being with you. I will be happy, Allen. I am happy. What we have together is so, so special, and I love it, and I love you. I want this— us —and that’s all. That’s enough. You’re enough for me, Allen. You always have been, and you always will be.”

Allen closed his eyes as a wave of some huge relief crashed over him, pulling a sob from somewhere deep in his chest. God. He didn’t even know how it happened, but Greg’s lips were suddenly on his, caressing them softly with a quiet reassurance. When they parted, he sighed deeply and slowly and let his tired body lean up against Greg, exhaustion mixing with relief mixing with love.

And for the first time since breakfast, his mind was also quiet, and he could think without every thought being drenched in the intrusive, overbearing, negative self-talk. He opened his eyes and turned his head just enough to look out toward the water.

It was beautiful here. It would have been so peaceful. A peaceful, short walk along the coastline. And actually, in that moment right then, it was peaceful.

He reached up and wiped the tears from his cheeks, then rested his head against Greg’s chest again. When he spoke, his words were quiet and careful, since he needed to finish explaining what he hadn’t earlier.

“It means more than you know to hear you say all of that. Because... because what I think made me panic, or whatever that was just now, um, was that I was sort of gearing up to try to convince you to go on that trip, and—and I-I realized that I was terrified of you actually leaving.” He paused to take a breath and turned slightly to bury his head against Greg’s chest. “I’ve been trying to convince myself that I’m okay and that I’ll be fine, but every time I try to make myself be okay and fine when I’m really not, something happens. Like—like when I pushed myself to go to work because Christopher and Owen would be there, and that drove me to have thoughts of—of—that I wished I weren’t alive anymore. And then we had that fight, and I hated that so much. And then I fainted. And now—and now—as we were walking here, and I was trying to figure out what to say, and I realized, no, you—”

He stopped and closed his eyes and shook his head to reset himself, and Greg’s arm tightened around him reassuringly, lovingly. He blinked back more tears. “And... I realized that you couldn’t go,” he continued, “because I still need you here, especially right now, just as—just as you’ve been saying. But that thought—that I would be keeping you from doing something you really wanted or, um, something I thought you really wanted—the thought that I’d be making you miss out, it... started to—to amplify all those other voices in my head.”

“. . . Those ones I already know about?”

“Yeah. Those ones from when I was a kid... Those ones telling me...” He trailed off, not wanting to say the words now. Not wanting to repeat them or give them any space in this conversation. They’d already done enough harm.

Greg must have agreed with him, because Allen felt another kiss press against the top of his head, and then Greg whispered quietly, “I love you, Allen.”

“I love you too.”

It was several long minutes before either of them said anything again, and then it was Greg, making some joke about his foot falling asleep because of his “elderly man status.” Allen managed a laugh, and they agreed to try to walk back to the trailhead. He felt dizzy and lightheaded when he stood, even with Greg helping him and even when they were slow and careful, but after a moment, he seemed to regain his equilibrium, at least enough for them to start back.

They walked slowly, Greg’s arm staying wrapped around his waist the whole way. By the time they finally reached the SUV maybe close to twenty minutes later, he was exhausted and done. Greg directed him to sit sideways in the passenger seat and then removed his hiking boots and slipped his tennis shoes back on for him.

And another few minutes after that, they were on the road, headed toward the cabin. Allen closed his eyes and rested his head back against the headrest, and when Greg reached over and took his hand, he felt that same deep, aching relief that he’d felt earlier.

He was loved—really, truly loved—for all that he was. He’d known that already, but he’d needed to hear it again. And he’d needed to know all those other things too—that Greg really, truly was okay with not going on that trip and that Greg really, truly was and would be happy.

He was still a mess—a tired, broken mess. Today had only proven just how much he needed to let his mind and body rest so he could heal. And even then, he would probably always still struggle, always still be a mess. But...

Allen glanced sideways at Greg, and his heart felt so full in that moment. As though he’d known he was being watched, Greg turned his head to meet Allen’s eyes briefly before looking back to the road ahead. Then he brought Allen’s hand up to his lips and brushed a light kiss along his knuckles.

And Allen’s heart fluttered in his chest as he closed his eyes again and let himself rest.