Like my best friend’s older brother coming back to the little town by the sea that he’d left behind. And even though I’d been so angry at him, even though I wanted to forget everything that had ever happened between us, I still found myself getting pulled right back in, even if I hadn’t understood the why of it at the time. There had always been this spark, this fire that burned me up because of him, and I pushed and pushed and pushed until I couldn’t anymore.
I’m not gay, Otter. I don’t care if you are, but I’m not.
Naïve, that.
And I should have known, really. That we would crash and collide as we always had. There had always been something there between us, and even though I hadn’t always recognized that, I’d fought tooth and nail for something with him, even after those three years in which he ran to California and lived a life away from the drama of Bear and the Kid.
I still had that letter. Tucked safely away.
I know you were hurt and have every reason to be angry, but just know that there hasn’t been a day that has gone by that I haven’t thought about you and Ty. Maybe that’s my punishment, knowing you are doing well and knowing I had nothing to do with it. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you, for having done so great despite people breaking their promises to you.
It was good to see you, even if it was only for a moment. I am glad I got at least that. I’ve missed you, Papa Bear.
Yes, he’d broken promises, but so had I.
And he limped, didn’t he? Even now as he pulled me toward the kitchen, there was that little hitch to his step that you probably wouldn’t even see if you weren’t looking for it. It’d gotten better after all these years, but he still favored it when it was cold. I still remembered standing above him, the machines beeping around him, a tube shoved down his fucking throat, eyes taped shut as he breathed and breathed and breathed. Everything gets taken away from you, the voice had whispered then. Either you push it away because of a woman who dared to call herself your mother, or shit like this just happens. It piles on top of you, and it’s going, going, gone.
Except he hadn’t gone.
She had, though. Mrs. Paquinn. She’d gone.
And yeah, he limped just a little, but he was here with me, wasn’t he? Here with that mischievous smile on his face, that look that I knew so well, and there was a history between us, long, long years that I never thought I’d get to have.
I was almost thirty years old, and I’d been with the love of my life for the better part of a decade.
There were days that I waited for the other shoe to drop.
I didn’t think I could ever stop doing that.
Maybe it was the way the Kid was vague about how school was going, how he seemed to be dead-eyed some days, where I’d wonder if the doses he was taking for his panic disorder were far too high. Or maybe it was the way that there were still secrets we kept from him, of a kid named Ben born only a couple of weeks ago. Otter disagreed, but he didn’t push, and I told myself it was the right thing to do, that I wasn’t keeping this from the Kid because I wanted to. No, I was doing it because I had to. There were still earthquakes sometimes, and we’d wait for everything to stop shaking as we curled up in the bathtub, his breath rattling around in his chest as he struggled to breathe.
Maybe one day I wouldn’t worry about what happened next. Maybe one day I could just… let it go.
Maybe I could even start today.
There was a handsome man with his hand in mine, and he loved me more than anything else in the world.
I’d certainly put him through enough shit.
There was more garland on top of the cabinets in the kitchen, and something bubbled in a pot on the stove. There were candles lit on the kitchen table in the breakfast nook. Silverware sat atop folded napkins next to plates that we hardly ever used, a gift from his parents as a housewarming present when we’d moved to New Hampshire. They were certainly nicer than anything I’d ever owned before.
Shit.
Had I forgotten something?
It wasn’t anyone’s birthday.
It wasn’t our anniversary (the main one, but then Otter was a dork sometimes and he’d say, “Eight years ago today, you told me you loved me for the first time,” or “Six years ago today, we did that one thing that’s probably illegal in seven states, so we should probably try it again”).
Shit.
“You didn’t forget anything,” he said as he pulled me toward the table.
“I know,” I said. “I wasn’t even thinking that. I remember everything.”
“Uh-huh.”
He dropped my hand as we reached the table and pulled out the chair for me, looking at me expectantly.