3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Greg

Greg woke up hours before the sun rose, drawn by a familiar longing to be out on the trail, to experience the very beginning of the new day at the top of a mountain peak somewhere, surrounded by the soft quiet of the forest. He felt the pull strongly that morning, despite the pouring rain and howling winds already battering the windows from outside.

The storm had arrived early, and that was probably a good thing, really. He wouldn’t have left anyway, not with Allen still clinging to him in a restful but fragile sleep. But he did have to consciously make that decision, especially since another part of him was just dying for the opportunity to test out the new custom-fitted rain cover he’d purchased for his Nikon.

There was a quiet whimper from over by the bedroom door, and Greg pushed himself up onto one elbow, careful to not wake Allen. Beans sat squarely in the center of the doorway, his tail thumping on the ground. He whimpered again and then barked. Loudly.

Greg groaned inwardly and gave the dog a stern look, but Beans just barked again and then turned and bounded off down the hallway. Frowning, Greg looked down at Allen, and he was relieved to see his husband was still sound asleep, still curled up right next to Greg, still breathing slowly and deeply.

His frown turned into a soft smile, and he bent down and brushed his lips lightly against Allen’s forehead. The gesture was something he did several times a day, and yet it felt as full of love as it always had, even after thirty-three years.

“I love you, Allen, my darling,” he murmured, and then he carefully eased himself out from under his husband’s arms and scooted off the bed. Allen shifted but didn’t wake, and Greg smiled, then hurried to let Beans out into the monsoon outside before the silly dog decided he’d waited too long and did his business right in front of the back door.

Jogging down the stairs, Greg heard Beans ahead of him, whining and pawing at the sliding patio door. He let Beans out, then took a short detour to the laundry room to grab a towel, since the dog would no doubt be soaking wet and muddy when he was finished outside. By the time Greg returned, Beans was already back at the door, scratching to be let back in. Greg dried the dog, tossed the dirty towel into the washing machine for a later load, and then climbed back up the stairs, Beans following at his heels.

He paused in the doorway, leaning against the doorframe as Beans ambled on past him and toward the bed where Allen still slept soundly.

“Nuh-uh, Beans. Bed. Now,” Greg warned, his voice firm but quiet. The dog stopped and gave Greg a look over his shoulder. “Now,” he repeated. Beans stared at him for another long second, and Greg thought the dog was seriously considering whether to obey or not. With what seemed to be a resigned sigh, if a dog could sigh or act resigned, Beans turned and headed to his bed to curl up and go back to sleep.

Greg shook his head. “Silly dog,” he muttered under his breath. After a quick trip to the bathroom to relieve himself and wash his hands, Greg returned to the bed, settling under the covers and then shimmying over until he was about in the middle of the bed. Allen seemed to sense him, and he turned over and cuddled up against Greg’s chest, still not waking up.

It was good, really. Allen needed the sleep. In fact, given how tired Allen had been the night before and how much and how quickly he’d started to struggle just after they’d gotten home last night, Greg knew that what Allen needed the most was rest, affection, and reassurance.

Experience told him that. Thirty-three years of experience helping his boyfriend and then husband work through extreme anxiety and depression caused by years and years of emotional abuse from his parents.

It had been a long time since he’d seen that expression in Allen’s eyes and felt the tension in Allen’s embrace. Years maybe. They’d been in a really good place for years, and as Greg replayed the last few days in his mind, he couldn’t immediately identify anything that might have triggered his husband’s spiral. And when he thought harder about it, he realized it had been more of a plummet than a spiral since he hadn’t noticed any signs or anything until Allen had gotten upset with Beans the night before.

Although it was possible he hadn’t really been paying close enough attention.

At fifty-six, he was well aware of most of his own personality flaws by now, and he knew that one of them—maybe the most intrusive one at this point in his life—was his tendency to get fixated on things. Generally, it was his work—he’d just have to get a certain photo, even if it meant extra days out on the trail or at a certain location, waiting for the perfect weather or the perfect lighting. And he really had been distracted the last few weeks.

In fact, just before their Friday Harbor trip, Greg had been gone for three days, wandering around Olympic National Forest, searching for the exact location for a photoshoot he wanted to do in October, when the deciduous trees would start to change colors. And the week before that, he’d been holed up in his studio for hours on end, editing a set of photos he’d gotten months ago but hadn’t had time to sort through and process. He’d been so distracted by it that he’d lost track of time more than once and not made it up to bed until after three or four in the morning several days in a row.

He frowned as he realized that yes, with how distracted he’d been the last few weeks, he probably wouldn’t have recognized any early signs that Allen was feeling low. They could be difficult to see and easy to miss, even if he wasn’t as distracted.

And he should know better. After thirty-three years, he should know better.

He closed his eyes and swallowed hard, telling himself to try and not worry so much. Experience also told him that wouldn’t really get him anywhere. No, what he needed to do right now was be present and reassuring. And make sure he was not distracted so he didn’t miss anything else.

From next to him, Allen let out a long sigh, his hand coming to rest right in the center of Greg’s chest. “You’re up so early, dear,” Allen said, his voice muffled as he buried his head deeper into Greg’s shoulder. “Don’t tell me you’re going out in this weather? You know, even a super-specialized, custom-fit rain cover for your camera can’t keep rain out when it’s flying at you horizontally because of the wind. ”

Greg chuckled and covered his husband’s hand with his own. Then he lightly kissed Allen’s forehead again.

“Beans needed to go out,” he explained. “And I wasn’t going to go anywhere this morning. I want to be here with you.”

“Hmm, don’t tell me the forest wasn’t calling you. I know you better than that.” Allen’s hand pressed into his chest. “But I’m glad you’re here. I didn’t want to wake up alone today.”

Greg’s stomach clenched, and he shook his head and kissed Allen’s forehead one more time. “It called. It always calls,” Greg admitted. “But I wouldn’t have gone. Not today. Today, I’m drawing you a bath and making you breakfast in bed and”—his hand shifted to Allen’s chin, and he gently tilted his husband’s head back and pressed a brief kiss to Allen’s lips—“then whatever you want today.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Greg reassured him. He cupped his husband’s cheek and kissed him again, and it was still short and chaste but just as loving, just as warm.

“I—I don’t...” Allen trailed off, and Greg’s heart ached for his husband. He knew the words Allen was thinking but trying valiantly not to say out loud. He’d heard them often enough and countered them often enough.

He was happy now that Allen had stopped himself from speaking them, but at the same time, he could see them etched clearly on Allen’s face.

I don’t want to be a burden.

Gently, Greg shook his head, and he let his hand slide down Allen’s arm to rest at his elbow. “You’re not,” he murmured. “I’m not thinking that, I promise. I love being with you. I love taking care of you, just as I love when you take care of me. I’m more in love with you than I ever have been, and I want nothing more than to show you that, every day. ”

They weren’t just rote words. Sure, he’d said them before. Many, many times before. But he meant them. Always. And he knew Allen felt his love and commitment. Sometimes, though, Allen’s brain just wouldn’t quite let him believe it, wouldn’t quite let him forget his childhood and all the berating and neglect and negativity he’d experienced.

“It’s still quite early though,” Greg added, and he let his fingers caress down Allen’s forearm the rest of the way and back up again. “Maybe you should get some more rest. I love just lying here with you, holding you. Can we do that, darling?”

Allen took two long, slow breaths and then nodded. “I’m still tired,” he admitted.

Outside, the wind howled, and there was some not-too-distant crack, followed by a pop and a flash of light through the shutters on the windows. They both groaned in unison.

“I’ll go turn on the generator,” Greg said, fighting not to grumble as he pushed back the blanket and grabbed a flashlight out of the nightstand next to the bed. “I’ll be right back.”

Beans jumped up and met him at the foot of the bed, bouncing up and down on his hind legs. Greg just shook his head and glanced back at Allen, who was now sitting up with his back against the headboard.

Power outages were a fact of life in their slightly rural-ish neighborhood, although they were much more common in winter, when snow and ice could accumulate on the power lines. They’d invested in a top-of-the-line generator some years ago, and Greg was thankful for it. But that did mean going outside to switch it on, which meant braving the weather and leaving Allen alone for several minutes.

After reassuring himself Allen would be okay, Greg continued out of the room, down the stairs, and into the garage. He stopped for a moment at the back door to tug on his rain boots and coat, then he pulled the hood up over his head, switched the flashlight on, and opened the door. Beans rushed out ahead of him, zooming off across the yard. Greg quickly scanned the fence line to make sure it was still intact so Beans couldn’t take off and go terrorize the neighborhood or something, and when he was satisfied the dog would be safely confined to the yard, hetrudged over to switch the generator on.

Five minutes and another dirty-dog-drying towel later, Greg re-entered the bedroom to see Allen still sitting up in the bed, his reading glasses now on and his cell phone out. He glanced up at Greg and then back down at his phone.

“So, Jocelyn and Tad in our group chat both said it was the transformer between their houses that blew. Joe said he’s out of propane and had meant to fill up, so his generator won’t work, but he’s headed over to his aunt’s house in Gig Harbor later today anyway. And I offered for Marcia to bring the twins over, but she said her brother is coming to pick them up in an hour and they’ll stay at his place until the power is back on.” Allen slipped his glasses off and set them down on his nightstand just as Greg climbed back underneath the covers.

“Glad Marcia has somewhere to go,” he said, settling on his side to face his husband.

Allen nodded in agreement, hit a few more buttons on his phone, and put it back on the nightstand next to his glasses before lying down again.

“Where were we?” Greg scooted over the last bit to close the distance between them, and Allen cuddled up against him, wrapping one arm around his waist.

“I was going back to sleep,” Allen mumbled, and Greg laughed quietly and kissed the top of Allen’s head.

“That’s right. ”

“I love you.” The words were muffled against his chest, but Greg heard them easily enough, and he smiled and closed his eyes.

“I love you too, darling.”