Epilogue

Hank

Two years later

What used to be one of the worst days of his life had become just another day in an endless succession of moments with Finn, loneliness replaced by a deep-seated feeling of contentment. Hank had used to measure out his life in things he’d done with Eugene and without Eugene. It had been an odd equation because everything that was good and bright belonged on the other side with Eugene, and he’d always assumed that it could never be different. That there had been an expiration date on the bright moments and that all he’d been left with was a dull, faded replica of the life he’d once had.

As it turned out, the light could return in the shape and form of a thirty-eight-year-old man with muddy-brown eyes, straw-blond hair, and a moderate case of abandonment issues. He guessed some things came in packages and if he wanted Finn, he would have to take all of him. That was okay, too. It was a rather nice package, after all, with the good by far outweighing the not-so-good. Obviously, Hank didn’t like that Finn still had moments where he doubted Hank and his love for him—obviously, he would rather be without that. Mostly for Finn’s sake, though. Because he just wanted Finn to be happy and for that recurring frown between his brows to become less frequent. It had become less frequent. Some things were just harder to get over than others, he guessed, and for Finn, it kind of stuck with him that he’d been abandoned as a kid. Hank could see how that could stick.

‘ I love you, Hank, ’ Finn had whispered against his heart the first night they’d spent together after coming home . ‘ Including the parts of you that you try to hide from me. What I love the most, though, is the way you consciously see me and still care for me. I’ll consider if that means that I can like myself a little more, too. ’ Finn often said strange things like this that made Hank’s head spin and forced him to think about himself and how he now suddenly mattered to someone else again. And not in the way he mattered to Colton, because he knew he was important to his nephew, too. ‘ I love how you were brave for me, Hank, when I needed you to be. ’

‘ I never thought I could be brave like that, to be honest, ’ he’d admitted, trailing his broad fingers through Finn’s silky strands that were still damp from their shower. ‘ But, as it turns out, I can. I can be when it matters. ’

‘ Because I matter ?’ Finn had gripped his shoulders, needily climbing on top of him.

‘ More than anythin’. Jesus, kid, there ain’t nothin’ I wouldn’t do for you. ’ And it was the honest-to-God truth. Now that he had admitted to himself and to Finn that they belonged together, Finn’s happiness had become his sole focus.

If there was one thing that Hank hated, it was waking up to an empty bed. Finn had been on a night shift, and those were the worst. If it weren’t for Maggie camping out at his feet, snoring softly, he would probably be pacing trails into the floorboards on those nights. Considering he’d slept alone for nearly seven years before Finn had come into his life, he was really doing a piss-poor job at it now. ‘It’s only two weekends a month, babe. We rotate. We all gotta do it. The rest of the time, I’m all yours. ’ Right. Well, as long as Finn was happy—which he was. On the days and nights that he wasn’t in Whitney, he was back home where he belonged, working next to Henry in the clinic, attending to their human patients.

Finn was always a bit hyper when he came back from a night shift, especially if he’d been working with Hannah. Hannah was a twenty-something nurse who’d started at the same time as Finn, and they’d immediately hit it off. Night shifts with Hannah meant sugar rush and watching rodeo if their shift was quiet, and from the sounds that were coming from the kitchen right now, it sounded like Finn had been on a shift with Hannah. Loud clangs and clatter, the electric whisker running, and Maggie May blasting from those fancy Sonos loudspeakers that Finn had installed all over the cabin, costing him a minor fortune.

He was quite the sight, his Finn, as he stood there in the early morning light, pinks and oranges covering his pale skin like watercolors on a naked canvas. His hair was longer now, gathered in a low ponytail, a few loose strands dipping into his forehead. It suited him with the longer hair and Hank liked it, much easier for Hank to get a grip on when he wanted to fuck Finn aggressively. Just the way they both preferred it.

The dips and curves of his muscular upper body, the odd sprinkling of freckles across the shoulders, always made Hank want him, crave him. This morning, he was wearing flannel pajama pants with little raccoons on them—they’d been a gift from Hank their second Christmas together, and they were Finn’s favorite. Hips rocking to Rod’s raspy voice, he was flipping pancakes left and right, Maggie’s brown doe eyes fixed on him. Finn was the center of her universe, and Hank didn’t blame her. He was the center of Hank’s, too.

Maggie was the one to notice him first, resulting in a loud woof, and once she started spinning around with a pair of Finn’s socks in her mouth, Finn noticed him, too.

“Mornin’ babe. How did you sleep? I didn’t wanna wake you, but there’s coffee. Maggie insisted I make pancakes and you know how persuasive our girl can get. What time are they coming?” Finn shifted on his feet, cheeks flushed pink with a combination of tiredness and adrenaline.

“Breathe, kid,” Hank murmured against Finn’s neck, placing his hands on his narrow hips, stilling his hyper movements. “How many did she have?” He nodded at the pup.

“Not that many,” Finn leaned into him. “Just a few bites here and there.” He nipped playfully at Hank’s shoulder.

“Finn…”

“Just two. One was an accident, though, since I didn’t flip it right and it landed on the floor.” He shrugged, biting his bottom lip, the moths fluttering restlessly.

“Jesus. You can’t feed her that many pancakes,” Hank groaned, tipping his head back. Brushing at his brows, he mumbled, “I need coffee.”

“Why not? All little girls love pancakes,” Finn pouted, the freckles above his upper lip glimmering in the early morning sunlight.

“She’s just a baby. It ain’t good for her.” Grabbing the coffee pot, Hank reached for two coffee mugs from the cupboard and poured them both a cup.

“She’s not a baby. Besides, I made Cara pancakes all the time when she was little.” Whisking furiously in the remaining batter with one hand, he dropped another generous lump of butter on the sizzling skillet.

“Well, it ain’t good for her. You’ll end up spoilin’ her rotten like you do Fenn.” Hank shook his head, unable to hide the fondness in his voice.

Finn turned in his arms, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth. Clasping his hands around Hank’s neck, he whispered, “Just like you spoil me rotten, Daddy?” Shit. Releasing Hank, Finn quickly poured the remaining batter on the skillet while reaching for the other one, flipping the pancake casually in the air.

“Oops.” With a splatter, the half-baked pancake hit the floor, and, in a flash, Maggie was at Hank’s feet, swallowing it down in one go, licking her snout, chewing exaggeratedly. If Hank didn’t know any better, he thought he recognized smugness in her brown eyes, but that would mean giving the pup too much credit. Like her cousin Louis, she was cute as could be, but with a pea-sized brain.

“That was not an accident,” Hank squeezed Finn’s right butt cheek warningly.

“So was,” Finn pouted, the tip of his pink tongue appearing between his lips.

“Don’t lie, baby. Bad little boys who lie to their Daddies get spankings; you know that. Doesn’t matter how darn cute they are.” Finn shivered in his arms, his ass flexing in Hank’s solid grasp.

“Uhhh, Maggie May. Daddy woke up a grumpy bear this morning. Didn’t you sleep okay?”

“You know I never sleep well when you ain’t home,” Hank grumbled crankily, pulling Finn’s front flush against his own chest and stomach.

“We can nap later. When are they coming?” Finn placed the final pancake on top of the towering stack and turned off the stove. Hank looked at the large sage-colored ’50s-style wall clock Finn had bought at a junk sale during a trip to Ogallala last spring.

“Any minute now, so you might wanna put on some clothes,” Hank nibbled at Finn’s neck, sucking the skin into his mouth, careful not to leave a mark. Finn automatically rubbed his thighs together, savoring the dull sting from the marks that Hank had refreshed on his inner thighs yesterday morning in the shower.

“Yes, Daddyyyy,” Finn sighed, resembling a puddle of goo in Hank’s arms. “Will you put the napkins on the tray? I already set the table. The ones with the cupcakes.”

“Cupcakes?” Hank huffed.

“Well, yeah. It’s a party, isn’t it?”

“Yeah. Now get goin’.” He gave Finn’s left butt cheek a soft pat as he leaned in and pressed a quick kiss against his forehead, breathing in the sugary scent of butter and vanilla. Scampering out of the kitchen, Finn turned around halfway down the hallway and blew Hank a kiss over his shoulder. As soon as he’d disappeared into their bedroom, a succession of loud knocks sounded on the front door. Immediately after, the door swung open, and Louis blasted inside, whirling down the hallway, and vacuuming the kitchen floor for any traces of leftovers.

“Here comes your buddy.” Hank jumped to avoid being swept off his feet by Louis and Maggie, who decided to do a couple’s polka in the middle of the kitchen. It wouldn’t be long before the Rottweiler pup outgrew her Labrador cousin. “Now, get outta here, will ya?” He quickly opened the door to the back and shooed out the dogs.

“You decent?” Colton’s deep bass boomed through the small cabin. Looking around the kitchen, his nephew offered him a broad smile and his left hand, since his other arm was wrapped securely around Gracie, Colton’s three-year-old foster daughter. The little girl had made a habit out of clinging to Colton for the first twenty minutes or so whenever they were out, occasionally peeking out from his shoulder, her head of black curls done neatly into small braids.

“How ya doin’?” Hank smiled back, poking Gracie in the ribs teasingly. “Hey there, Gracie Grump.”

“You’re the grump, Uncle Hank,” she lisped, smiling shyly before she once again buried her face against Colton’s neck.

Right behind them, Henry was chattering eagerly with a teen boy about God knows what. Last week at Tilly’s, they’d had an animated discussion about what had caused the extinction of the dinosaurs. The thirteen-year-old Kesi was Gracie’s older brother, and they’d been living with Henry and Colton for nine months now since their parents died in a car accident. Gracie was too young to remember anything, of course, but the first couple of months had been rough, Kesi battling so much anger over what had happened. However, with Colton’s endless patience and Henry’s sunshine persona, they appeared to be over the worst. They were in the process of trying to adopt the children and their lawyer in Chadron gave them pretty good odds since they were financially independent and married.

“This is new,” Colton spoke, taking in the display of three framed photos adorning the wooden shelf next to the door to the living room. In the middle was a photo from Henry and Colton’s wedding the previous year, the four of them in navy suits, outside Tilly’s, where the intimate wedding had been held. To the left was a photo of Hank and Finn from a visit to Oregon a few months prior when Cara had given birth to her second child, a little baby girl. Fenn was sitting on Finn’s shoulders, the ocean behind them, their faces sun-kissed and their hair wild and unruly. The final photo was of Eugene, a rare moment that Hank had caught him unaware, looking out over the creek, deep in thought.

“Looks good,” Henry smiled, his blue eyes blinking a couple of times.

“It does,” Hank nodded, his eyes stinging just a little like they usually did when he thought of that day. It was their last day of untainted happiness. The next day, they’d driven into Chadron, where a biopsy had confirmed their worst fears: that Eugene had pancreatic cancer.

“You’re here!” Finn’s lofty voice drifted towards him. “That’s great timing. The pancakes are ready.” He looked quickly at Hank and mouthed you okay? Nodding, Hank exhaled, a slow smile spreading across his face. Yeah, he was okay. Now. “Then we’re good to go. I’ll just grab the coffee and what about you guys?” He winked at the children. “You want juice, cocoa, or Scotch?”

“Let’s start with juice,” Henry chuckled as he led the way into the living room, pressing a soft kiss against Colton’s cheek as he passed him. “Kesi, you wanna sit next to me?”

“Sure,” the kid smiled, taking in the colorful table, a large vase of wildflowers in the middle of it, the pale pink tablecloth matching the cotton napkins. “Yum.” He rubbed his hands together, looking at Hank. “You made brunch?”

“Finn did,” Hank said, his chest expanding with pride and happiness as he took in his family.

“Well, I was up anyway.” Finn shrugged, brushing Hank’s fingers with his own.

“Gosh, you must be tired.” Henry shook his head, taking in the plates filled with scrambled eggs, bacon, sausages, fruit, and homemade biscuits.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Finn shrugged. “Shi—shoot, I forgot the coffee.” They’d all started paying attention to their language after the kids had become part of the family, though it took a little longer for some to adjust.

“Sit down, baby, and I’ll get it.” Hank squeezed Finn’s shoulder, pushing him down in a chair.

In the kitchen, he poured the coffee on a thermos and put on another pot while he was at it. Grabbing some milk from the fridge, he turned, heading for the living room. As he passed the row of photos, he couldn’t help smiling at how his past, his loss, was no longer something that he hid away, but something that was now a part of his present, too. In many ways, Finn had taught him that. How there was still a place for Eugene and that he deserved to be remembered and not hidden away in a box in the attic.

Reaching out, he trailed his fingers along the glass, tracing the outline of Eugene’s face on the photo. Closing his eyes briefly, he steadied himself, exhaling deeply.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he whispered softly as cheerful voices beckoned him back into the sunlit living room. Happy birthday, Eugene.