Chapter 26

Chapter Twenty-Six

Alex

MORNING ARRIVES ALL too soon, but waking up with Henry's body draped over mine helps ease the sting. Despite the awkward conversation that ended the night, I'm warm and languid, reluctant to crawl out from under the sheets. I hit snooze on my alarm and wrap my arms around Henry, who snuggles against my chest.

I meant all those things I said to him last night. I really would go on more hikes with him. This has been a surprise to me, but I never intended to deceive or hurt him. That made it all the harder to hear him sigh out those fateful words: I wish you were staying.

He froze up the moment he spoke, but it wasn't fear that hit me; it was guilt. Whatever my intentions, this thing between us has obviously progressed past something purely physical. I don't know how to go back to San Francisco without hurting him, but I can't change the reality of my circumstances. I can't stay in Tripp Lake, even if I wanted to. I have to return to San Francisco, to my office and my apartment and my life. When that happens, this will end.

I don't actually get any more sleep before my alarm goes off again. I give up on dozing. Instead, I stroke Henry's fluffy hair away from his forehead, combing my fingers through it until he rouses with a sigh.

"Sorry, I have to get up," I whisper. "I brought my laptop. Is it okay if I work in your living room? I'll try to be quiet."

"Mmm," he says.

I ease out from under him, my bare skin missing the heat of his body the moment it's gone. He snuggles into the sheets, hugging the pillow I was using. I bend down to kiss his forehead and a smile spills across his mouth even while his eyes are still shut. I pause, reeling from the things that sleepy, content smile does to me, from the flash of awareness that I could do this to him every morning, wake up this way every morning, kiss him goodbye and earn that smile every morning.

No. I shake my head at myself. I'm only hurting both of us more by thinking things like that.

I collect my clothes and tip toe to the bathroom. I shut the door and wash up as quietly as I can, stealing some mouthwash in place of properly brushing my teeth. It's good enough for now, and far better than going back to my parents' place.

It's a little surprising that Henry doesn't need to be at the café, but he's still cocooned in the sheets when I shut his bedroom door behind me and pad out to his living room. I set up quickly, trying my best to look like a guy who didn't have both the best and most awkward night of his life last night. I'm not sure how well I succeed.

"You look like you just rolled out of bed," Tim says when he and I jump on our scheduled video conference.

"Haven't had coffee yet." It's true, but also not really an explanation for my messy hair and rumpled appearance.

"Are you somewhere different than usual?"

Tim tries looking around and I shift the laptop so he can't see anything but me and the couch. A wicked smile twists his face.

"Oh I get it," Tim says. "Back in your hometown. Met up with some old flame from high school or something. Yeah, I see what's going on."

Cold washes through me, turning every muscle rigid. If Tim, or any of my co-workers, found out I was at a guy's house I'd never hear the end of it. San Francisco has a reputation for attracting a lot of queer people, but that goes out the window when it comes to the type of dudes who work at a slimy law firm helping oil companies dodge regulations.

I roll my eyes at Tim and try to play it off. "It's nothing like that. Just a friend. Is this an appropriate work conversation?"

"You're worried about appropriate work conversations? Now I'm even more convinced it's a girl. Nice, man."

"Shut up. Why did I get out of bed early for this? Get to the point."

I feel like a dick for being so cold about this, but once I go home there won't be anymore Henry, so what's the point in making my work life miserable? Well, more miserable. I'm better off playing it off and not letting people like Tim taint the happy parts of my memories here.

"Fine, whatever," Tim says. "I didn't have any other times, and I wanted to get you up to speed on Dave."

Dave is our boss. He's even busier than either of us, so I haven't had much time to meet with him while in Tripp Lake. Tim bringing him up is definitely not a good sign.

"He's getting antsy, man," Tim says. "He thought you'd be back already, and he doesn't like that you're not."

"He approved the remote work extension."

"I know, but that doesn't mean he's happy about it. He's been asking when you're coming back, especially now that you're helping on the Green account. You're going to have to give him a date soon. He isn't going to take ‘I don't know' for an answer much longer."

Shit. This is exactly what I've been fearing. I knew I was on borrowed time the second this "vacation" extended past the initial week I was supposed to be here. I explained the situation to the firm — Dad's heart attack, his relapse, all of that — but their sympathy only extends so far.

"I hear you," I say, exhausted even after a night of deep, blissful sleep with Henry beside me. "I'm doing my best, but I don't know what to tell you."

"Well your best isn't going to be good enough forever. You need to give them a date. Can't you tell your parents that time's up and you have to get back before you lose your job? I'm sure they'd understand."

I barely hold back a bitter laugh. Yeah, if only. They'll be pissed the second I suggest going, and losing my job won't be a good enough excuse. Just like the first time I escaped this town, I'll have to make the call and stick to it no matter how much guilt they throw at me.

But my parents aren't really why I'm hesitating. I wish I could lie to myself about it, but it's hard when Henry's warmth still clings to my skin, when I'm still sitting on his couch, when what we did last night is still replaying in my head. When his words are still ringing in my ears. I wish you were staying. Maybe some part of me wishes for that too. Otherwise, why would I be lingering here when I have every reason to leave?

"Alex?"

I jolt from my thoughts to find Tim awaiting my answer. I don't know what to tell him or Henry or anyone currently hounding me for solutions.

"I'll get him a date this week," I say. "I need to look up flights."

"Good. I'd hate to lose you."

I get off the call as quickly as I can. Then I flop back on the couch, sighing into my hands as I cover my face.

I startle when Henry's bedroom door opens. I quickly open my email and pretend to be scrolling through it as he strolls to the kitchen in sweatpants that ride tantalizingly low on his hips and the T-shirt from yesterday. His hair is beautifully tousled, his cheeks rosy with warmth and sleep.

"Coffee?" he says.

"Uh, yeah, that would be great, actually."

I try to go back to my emails while he makes the coffee, but it's hard when I just got out of a meeting about the thing that's going to hurt him the most. I know I'm doing something awful to him, and I have no idea how to protect him. Or myself.

He sits beside me on the couch and offers me a mug. I sip gratefully, hoping caffeine might solve my problems.

"That's so good," I say.

"It's my one major splurge," Henry says. "I can't accept sub-par coffee."

We sip in silence for a moment, until Henry speaks up.

"Are you alright? You look stressed out. I'm sorry if I'm being nosy. You don't have to answer. Maybe I should leave you alone while you're working."

"No," I say before he leaves. The word leaps out a little too quickly. "No, I'm… I had an early meeting. My boss is on my ass. That's all."

It's the truth, but it leaves out the crucial fact that the stuff Dave is on me about is me leaving Tripp Lake and returning to San Francisco, the very thing Henry fears.

I try to change the subject.

"Why aren't you at the café today? I figured you'd be up even earlier than me."

Henry sighs into his coffee. "Yeah, I wish. I really need the hours. But everything is covered today. Chloe didn't have anything for me. Service industry jobs can be fluky like that."

"Sorry." I know he's stressed out about his roommate situation and everything. Losing a day couldn't have helped matters.

I set down my coffee and snap my laptop shut.

"You know, that was my only meeting for the day. We could … we could go for a hike or something. If you want."

Henry brightens immediately, and my heart somersaults around my chest. It's so easy to make him happy, and it's becoming my favorite hobby.

"That sounds amazing, but don't you need to work?"

"I need to read some preliminary documents for a client, but I can do it later," I say.

"If you're sure," Henry says, but he's already on his feet. "I could make us some sandwiches. I think I have trail mix too. Let me look around. Do you need to borrow something to wear? I probably have something big enough."

He flits around, and I forget all the stress of work and my parents and my boss and returning to San Francisco. It seems like he forgets about his roommate situation too.

Still, some part of me hates myself for doing this to both of us. It's only going to make things harder when I buy that plane ticket and announce that it's time for me to go. Every relaxing hike and mind-blowing night deepens the hurt waiting to carve us open when we have to say goodbye.

But for today, I'm setting that aside. I throw on what I wore yesterday. Henry fills a backpack with snacks and sandwiches and water bottles. Then we hop in his car and drive away from all the things we should be worrying about.

He takes us to a trailhead about half an hour from Tripp Lake. We park in a small lot that contains two other cars. Looks like we aren't the only ones skipping out on work today.

The moment we get onto dirt surrounded by trees, tension leeches out of my body. Henry and I don't speak when we start up the winding switchbacks. We let the rustle of the trees and chittering of small critters fill in the quiet for us.

At first, I think it's peaceful, but slowly I worry if Henry's silence is unusual, tense. Bracing. If what should be serenity is actually giving him more space to feel what we're about to lose. As the realization sinks in, the peace of the forest presses in like a leering crowd judging my actions, my decision to leave. What choice do I have? I want to scream, but I suspect I'll find no sympathy here. Not when what I'm going back to in San Francisco betrays everything I've ever cared about in Tripp Lake. The trees, the natural world, the creatures scurrying away from our footsteps.

And Henry.