“I just don’t know how this can end any way other than badly.”
“I do.” Canaan had laid awake a long time, knowing Renzo was doing the same thing, faking sleep, but not wanting to have this conversation quite yet, needing to gather his resolve. “You’re not going to Mars. We do distance for a while, then maybe—”
“Don’t say it. Please.” Renzo pinched the bridge of his nose.
“You that afraid of this? Of me saying that maybe I could move?”
“Yes. Please. I’m begging you, don’t offer that.” Renzo’s eyes were haunted and liquid and didn’t leave Canaan’s, not even for a second.
“Why?”
“Your life is here. Someday you’re going to meet the right someone. The forever someone. And he’ll be here, where you can have the life you’ve dreamed about, and you’ll thank me.”
“No.” No, Canaan was not buying that load of crap.
“You will. I believe that. You’ll meet someone who appreciates Grandpa and you, who wants to see you graduate, who you can build a life with. Here. Where you belong.”
“I belong with you. I want it to be you.” Damn it to hell, Canaan wasn’t going to let him do this.
“I wanted it to be me too.” Renzo pulled him to his lap, blanket and all, holding him close. “But it can’t be. And I wish I was strong enough to take this last month with you, but I’m not sure I am. Even now...” He trailed off and buried his head in Canaan’s shoulder. Voice muffled, he said, “I can’t do that to you. Can’t take advantage.”
“It’s not advantage if I want you to take it. I lo—”
“Please. Don’t say it.”
“But it’s true. You know it is. And you feel it too. You said you want it to be you. The forever someone.”
“I do. So, so much. But I also know a no-win scenario when I see one. No one’s going to win here, at least not right now. But years from now, you’re going to look back at this summer—”
“And remember that you were a coward. That you didn’t want to take a chance.” Instead of pushing Renzo away, he held him tighter, like that could make a difference.
“Well, I’m going to remember you forever. Remember that you made me want to take that chance. And remember that I did the right thing, letting you be free to have your best future.”
“Ren,” he begged. “Don’t do this.”
“Let me. Please.” Renzo gave him a soft, fleeting kiss. “Let me love you enough to let you go. Please.”
“Fuck.” Canaan wasn’t sure he had an answer to that, so he kissed him back, nothing else left to do. But eventually the kiss had to end, and Renzo very gently set him next to him on the couch.
“Will you at least text? Let us be friends?” He grasped at straws as Renzo stood.
“Yeah.” Renzo nodded. “I can do that.”
Canaan hated that despite knowing this man so damn well he couldn’t tell whether he was lying, whether this was indeed it. But the time for begging was done—all that was left was to watch Renzo walk out the door, and to hold a couch pillow tightly to stop from running after him.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Missing Canaan infused every moment of Renzo’s days the first part of the week. Even what little sleep he got. He missed him like a fish missed the ocean, like he missed the sky when he hadn’t jumped in a while, grieving the loss in weird fits and starts. He’d be fine then something would hit him, and he’d be a wreck again.
“Are you paying attention, Bianchi?” Buddinger redirected him back to the equipment they were reviewing. Different than mere inventory, they were inspecting each piece of the team’s jump gear. Gloves. Goggles. Packs. Chutes. Oxygen for the high-altitude jumps. Nothing was overlooked.
“Yes. Sorry.” Renzo knew that while this task was needed, it was also for his benefit—Buddinger and the senior chief wanting him to be ready for his jumpmaster training, come out on top of the class. “Just...a lot on my mind.”
“I hear you. Moving sucks. But use all the transition resources the navy has, and you’ll be fine. Especially if you’re going into the barracks there, you shouldn’t have much to worry about.” Buddinger gave him a sympathetic look.
“Yeah.” Renzo’s neck ached at the thought of the barracks, another set of endless nights in a too-small bed in a too-noisy building with tepid showers and...
No Canaan.
That was really what his mood was about. He hadn’t hated the barracks much before he’d started spending a lot of nights at Canaan’s, experienced the difference of meals with Canaan’s grandpa and nights spent holding his guy.
“You leaving a situation behind?” Buddinger dropped his voice even though they were largely alone in the hangar with the equipment locker.
“Something like that,” Renzo admitted, not really wanting to get into details but not about to lie either.