Page 79 of The Darkness Within

Guilt, obsessive thoughts, worry, sleepless nights, heartburn, and headaches. And yet, none of them is enough of a deterrent to make me stop. If I could just get him alone for a few hours, long enough to put my hands on him, my lips…

“Brewer?”

“Sorry, what?”

Nash tries again. “I said, I’d like to plant a garden for Violet. Maybe transform her backyard into something beautiful like ours. But my aversion to dirt, the smell of it, makes me wary to even try.”

“Have you tried since completing your EMDR therapy?”

“No. Do you think I should? I’d need you to be there, in case I…you know.”

He thumbs through the pages of a gardening magazine, looking all googly-eyed at the lush, colorful pictures. Despite his struggles, his heart is always in the right place. That tells me everything I need to know about him.

With my mind made up, I suggest, “You want to get out of here this weekend?”

His head snaps up fast enough to give him whiplash. “Where to?”

“We could check out some gardens, get your hands in the dirt, and see what happens.” His smile grows and my fear that I’ve made the wrong decision fades. Am I thinking with my dick instead of my head?

Probably—well, my dick and my heart.

“Can we leave right now?”

His eagerness is cute, and I laugh. “Go pack a bag. We’ll be gone overnight.”

Like a blur, he disappears faster than my eyes can track him. Fifteen minutes later, he climbs into my car with his duffel bag, his plant, and his kitten. It’s a package deal. Nash comes with baggage, and not only the mental kind. Where he goes, the plant and cat follow, without fail.

“I don’t know where we’re going, but I’m ready.”

A little chuckle. A big smile. That’s me when I’m with him. Happy. At ease. Right where I belong.

Turning off the A/C, I roll down the windows, turn the radio up and back out of the driveway.

An hour later, we pull into the parking lot of DuPont State Recreational Forest, just one of the many gorgeous parks in the Pisgah National Forest preserve surrounding Asheville.

Nash breathes out in awe as he takes in the majestic mountains surrounding us. “What are we doing here?”

“Reprogramming your brain.”

I grab my backpack, packed with water bottles, my phone and keys, and granola bars, and head down the trailhead with Nash by my side.

I feel free like I haven’t felt in…ever? Wide open spaces, fresh air and unforgettable scenery, no obligations or appointments, and the man I feel the most comfortable with walking ahead of me, his tight ass swaying deliciously with each step.

Yeah, this is living.

Nash stops every so often to check out the ground cover and plants, taking mental notes of what he likes. We point out birds and a hawk. Squirrels with fat, bushy tails scamper across the trail. The sound of rushing water draws us off the path, and I catch a glimpse of a waterfall that empties into a wide but shallow stream.

“Come on,” I say, an idea forming in my head. Leaning against a boulder, I kick off my shoes and socks and step into the icy water. It licks at my calves, the cold temperature turning my skin pale white. Nash wears a boyish smile as he splashes after me.

“What are we doing?”

“Just walk with me.”

He stops to pick up a river rock, smooth as glass from years of being washed in the current, and puts it in his pocket. Then he scoops up a handful of the pure mountain water and offers it to Valor, who laps it up. When he catches up to me, his hand bumps mine, and he hooks his pinky finger with mine. I slide my whole hand in his, and he grips me back, smiling brightly.

He’s so fucking beautiful. Brave, strong, yet fragile. Nash’s fragility is unique, like him. He isn’t fragile like a flower. He’s fragile like a bomb, waiting to detonate at any moment. His memories are like shards of shrapnel, slicing into your soul like damaging cuts, capable of leaving permanent scars that won’t ever heal.

I’m trying my best to heal his scars. For his sake, and for mine.

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