7. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Greg

Beans whined and tugged at the end of his leash, but Greg gave him a stern look, and the dog barked indignantly before before sitting down with obvious impatience.

“How that dog has so much energy at five thirty in the morning, I’ll never understand,” Allen huffed, stopping next to Greg as he wiped the sweat from his brow.

The Wednesday morning air was crisp but hinted of a later warmth. Darkness was just starting to give way to light, which peeked through the thick pine trees of the forest. The trail was quiet at this time of day, especially since it was a weekday, and Greg was thankful for that.

It had been a heavy, busy couple of days.

Monday had been rough, filled with too many intense emotions for both of them. And then, yesterday morning, just as they’d been walking out the door, Sheriff Mike had shown up .

The two teenagers apparently wanted to apologize to Allen in person.

That shock had been enough to send all of them back inside, where they’d talked for about a half hour. When the sheriff had left, Allen had admitted to Greg that he was terrified of what his reaction to seeing the boys might be. He wasn’t sure he could handle it.

So they’d decided to “sleep on it.”

Allen had still gone to work, although he’d been in late. And he’d come home early, nursing an awful headache.

They were supposed to talk today—this morning—and Allen had been the one who’d suggested they go on a sunrise hike to one of Greg’s favorite local spots—Little Si, a much smaller companion peak to the extremely popular Mount Si. The peak wasn’t as formidable, and it usually wasn’t quite as crowded—especially on a weekday at five thirty in the morning. The trail up was mostly in the shelter of the forest rather than open along the mountain face, which suited Greg just fine. He loved the feeling of the forest surrounding him; it felt protective, soothing even, especially on days like today.

Greg smiled weakly as he handed Allen a bottle of water and then reached down to pat Beans’s head. “He’s in denial that he’s turning nine this year, so he’s gotta show us how much he’s still a puppy at heart. Until later, that is, when he’ll crawl upstairs and sleep all day.”

“I might have to join him,” Allen complained, frowning as he shifted on his feet a bit. “My knees just aren’t terribly happy with elevation changes like this anymore. I’m not looking forward to the hike back down.”

Greg’s smile faded, and he straightened back up. “We can turn back if—”

“No, no, that’s not what I meant.” Allen closed the cap on the water bottle and shook his head. “I want to be out here with you. Just... it’s a good thing we’re only hiking Little Si. I don’t think I could handle the whole mountain now.”

There was a hint of something to Allen’s tone, almost some sort of guilt. Greg looked off up the trail, unsure what to say, and he tried to push away his unease. He blinked and turned back to Allen. “There’s an easier loop we could take that doesn’t go all the way to the peak but should still give us a decent view of the sunrise. Would you like that, darling?”

Allen swallowed hard and looked down at the ground, and Greg cursed inwardly. Wrong thing to say. That had definitely been the wrong thing to say. He should know better by now.

But he’d been off kilter all week, and Allen’s normal “tells” weren’t really showing through as clearly either. There were too many other emotions. There was too much other pain.

Allen’s hiking boot stubbed into the ground. “I-I’m sorry, I—”

Greg stepped up behind his husband and let his hands settle on Allen’s upper arms. Then he pressed his body up against Allen’s and leaned down to kiss Allen’s cheek.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for, and I need you to know I only suggested the easier route because I don’t want to see you hurting. I will not be disappointed either way. I’m extremely grateful to just be spending this time out here with you, whether we make it to the peak or whether we turn back now or whether we take the easier route. I didn’t mean to imply otherwise.”

Allen leaned back against him and let out a short breath. Greg could feel the heat of Allen’s body and his slightly-too-fast breathing, and it worried him. They still had a good three-quarters of a mile up the mountain to get to the peak, and it was a steady, steep climb. If Allen was already so winded...

“I’m okay. We can keep going. I’m sorry, I—” Allen stopped, just like he had before, and he was trembling. Actually, physically shaking. Greg could feel it, and Beans seemed to sense it too. The pup sat himself right at Allen’s feet and leaned against Allen’s legs with a quiet whimper.

Greg’s heart clenched, and he let his hands drift a little lower, down to Allen’s elbows. He almost wished he didn’t know everything that was probably running through Allen’s head right now—all Allen’s thoughts about how he wasn’t good enough, or how he was a burden to Greg, or how he was just getting in the way of what Greg really wanted to do. Nuisance. Disruptive. Burden. Greg had heard it all throughout the years, and the last five days or so had been particularly bad in a way it hadn’t been in a really long time.

He felt almost out of practice in dealing with it, awash with uncertainty. But he was sure of two things—Allen needed him and needed his reassurance, and he needed to let Allen make the decision. He bent down to kiss Allen’s cheek again and then let out a long, slow breath.

“I love you,” Greg said softly, and Allen’s weight pressed back against his chest more.

“I know.”

“Whatever you choose to do, I’ll be okay with. I won’t be upset or disappointed or unhappy in any way, because I’m here with you. That’s what matters most to me.”

It was the truth. One hundred percent, no question.

The forest called him, yes. The early mornings, watching the sunrise from a mountain peak, feeling as the light and warmth washed over his skin—those things also called him, and he yearned for them in a way that was deep, tugging at his soul.

But his love for Allen was deeper than all of that. This last week had reminded him of just how much he’d let himself become distracted by all those other things, when the only thing he really needed was his husband. The last week had also reminded him how much he was needed—how much Allen needed him to be there. Present. Attentive.

Allen stepped away from him but then glanced back over his shoulder and gifted Greg with a soft smile. “Let’s keep going,” he said, adding, “but I’ll be sure to let you know if I need to turn around.”

The tension in Greg’s shoulders eased, and he returned his husband’s smile. Beans jumped forward, whining, and Greg laughed.

“Alright, let’s go, and you can tell me more about that new display you were hoping to put up at the library. A showcase for local authors?”

Allen nodded, and together, they started off on the trail again. Allen spoke quietly, telling Greg all about his plans to host a special event for local authors to share their work, hopefully in collaboration with the local bookstore.

They made slower progress than they had the first half of the hike, but Greg let Allen set the pace. By the time they reached the peak, Allen had been quiet for several minutes. They weaved through the pines to Greg’s favorite ledge, and then Greg slipped his backpack off and pulled out a couple of lightweight foam pads for them to sit on.

After helping Allen settle, he sat down himself, scooting as close as he could and then wrapping his arm around his husband’s shoulders. Silently, they watched as sunlight started to inch its way up over Mount Si to the east, bringing a gentle warmth with it.

He’d seen this same view probably a hundred times now. Yet it never got old. Next to him, Allen seemed to relax with a long sigh, and Greg turned his head slightly and pressed a kiss into Allen’s hair .

“Do you remember the first time we came up here together?” Allen asked, his voice low.

Although the memory was over three decades old, Greg nodded. “Like it was yesterday,” he said softly. “I remember every minute.”

Allen’s head tilted more to rest against Greg’s, and there was a light laugh. “Even when I tripped over my own feet right at the start?”

“Especially that. I caught you, and it was...”

“What?” Allen’s voice was low now, nearly a whisper.

Greg closed his eyes, letting the memory replay in his head. They hadn’t even been dating at the time. In fact, it had been during a three-day hiatus Greg had taken while on the last stretch of his 2,600-mile-long hike of the Pacific Crest Trail, way back in the summer of 1990. He’d caught a ride from Snoqualmie, where an offshoot of the PCT had brought him into town. And then, he’d called up Allen, who had been surprised to hear from him after several months.

“I just still remember how it felt to hold you for the first time,” Greg said, letting out a quiet huff.

Allen laughed, louder this time, and shook his head. “It was for all of two seconds before I got my bearings again. I was so embarrassed. You... actually remember that?”

“Your hand landed right in the center of my chest, and I could smell your shampoo. It was... citrusy. And I didn’t want to let you go. That was the first time I’d ever had that feeling before.” Greg felt heat in his cheeks at the admission, even after all these years, and he ducked his head. “I was so ready to ask you out right then. I thought maybe I’d do it when we got up here, to the peak. But then there were too many people, and the timing didn’t feel quite right. ”

Allen’s hand came to rest on Greg’s leg. “I don’t remember it being crowded.”

“It was terrible,” Greg said, shaking his head again. “I’m surprised you don’t remember. It was the last weekend before school started again, I think. Any weekend day is packed, but this was worse. And the weather was perfect too, which was nice but didn’t help.”

“Ahh, you’re right. That’s right. I had an 8 a.m. class the next day.”

“And this spot right here . . .”

“It was the only empty spot,” Allen recalled.

Greg nodded. “And that was perfect for me because it was always my favorite spot on this little peak, and I was just so happy to get to share it with you, even if I didn’t have the courage to ask you out then.”

He loved the memory; it was something he thought about every time they came up here.

“I remember being so surprised you wanted to spend your time off the PCT hiking more.” Allen chuckled lightly and squeezed Greg’s leg. “That’s you though. And...”

Greg frowned as he felt Allen tense up slightly. He turned his head to kiss Allen’s temple. “What is it, darling?”

“I never told you this, but I almost said no. When you finally did ask me out, I mean.” Allen twisted a bit to look up at him, and Greg was surprised to see amusement rather than anxiety in Allen’s eyes. “After that day—when you actually called me just like you’d said you would, after you’d hiked over twenty-four hundred miles on the PCT, and you came in from Snoqualmie to see me, and—” Allen stopped and shook his head with a small smile. “I was so worried that you wouldn’t be content with me because you... because I could tell you needed adventure. But me ? I wanted to be a librarian. All my life, that’s what I’d wanted. I seemed so... boring in comparison.”

There was a pause, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable, and Greg didn’t even get the impression that Allen still believed his old self’s words. And that was good. That was progress.

He did remember feeling Allen’s reluctance at the very beginning, before he knew the depth of Allen’s struggles with his self-worth and self-esteem. But what he remembered most was the vision he’d had of the two of them together—he’d wanted to surround himself with Allen’s goodness and kindness, his empathy and heart, and he’d wanted to show Allen the same things in himself.

Allen sighed—to Greg’s ears, it sounded like a happy sigh—and then straightened up a bit and turned until he was facing Greg. He reached up and touched Greg’s cheek, and together, they leaned in for a brief kiss.

“We should get back,” Allen said when they parted.

Greg nodded, stood up, and helped Allen to his feet, not missing the grimace that Allen tried to hide. Beans, who had been sitting quietly, jumped up as well, eager to get going again. After Greg packed up their foam mats and shouldered his backpack, he slipped his hand into Allen’s, then brought Allen’s hand up and kissed his knuckles softly.

“I probably don’t need to tell you how happy I am that you said yes, but I’ll tell you anyway.” Allen’s eyes dipped down, but Greg shook his head, reached up, and tilted Allen’s chin back. “I’d already fallen for you, even just in the short time we’d known each other. And I loved your passion—yes, it was a different type of passion than mine, but”—Greg smiled gently and leaned in for another short kiss—“it was—and still is—beautiful. You are beautiful and kind and caring and compassionate. The best person I know. And I love you so much. Thank you for giving me a chance to show you that.”

Tears glistened at the corners of Allen’s eyes, and rather than speak, he simply nodded some sort of acknowledgement. And together, the two of them—plus Beans—started back down the mountain trail.