Page 23 of For the Rest of Forever

Neither Allen nor Greg said anything for a few minutes, but Greg moved back over to where Allen stood, stepped behind him, and slid his arms low around Allen’s waist, pulling Allen back against him. It felt good again, and he let the warmth of his husband’s love wash over him.

He was loved. He wasn’t a burden or too much or not enough. He was exactly as he should be. The words swirled around, repeating in his head as he leaned back more against Greg’s solid chest.

“I love you,” Greg murmured, his lips brushing just below Allen’s ear. “Are you feeling a little better?”

The softness of Greg’s voice, the gentleness of his touch, the warmth of his kiss all made everything just that much better in the moment, and Allen had the fleeting thought that it shouldn’t be so difficult. Everything shouldn’t be so difficult when he had this. He knew he had this—he knew Greg was here with him and for him, always.

So why had he wished earlier that he wasn’t... alive anymore? It wasn’t the first time he’d had these thoughts, not by far, but itwasthe first time the words had really coalesced and been so clear and coherent and strong. The first time he hadn’t immediately dismissed the notion. The first time he’d actually wished it were true. And he didn’t think he’d ever before gotten tothatpoint—where his brain had started imagininghowandwhathe might do, how easy it might be . . .

What was wrong with him?

He pushed the thoughts away and nodded. “Yes. Yes, you’re... helping a lot right now. Just holding me.”

Greg chuckled quietly. “I’ll hold you all day if you need it.”

“I have to work today,” Allen finally admitted, and he turned around in Greg’s arms and slid his hands up Greg’s chest to rest on either side of his neck. He didn’t miss the concern in his husband’s expression. He closed his eyes and rested his head against Greg’s shoulder. “Just from nine to noon. I should probably call out, but I can’t. I promised to be there. Christopher and Owen are—”

“Allen, no. No. No, you can’t be serious? Not after—not after what just—” Greg seemed unable to finish his sentence, and Allen’s stomach churned.

Part of him wanted to be angry. But that reaction felt juvenile at best. He took a deep breath and tried to explain himself.

“It’s only three hours, and—”

“No. No. I-I mean...” Greg faltered again, and Allen pushed back slightly to look up at his husband. Greg’s face was pale, and he was shaking his head slowly, his eyes pleading with Allen. “I understand, Allen. I really understand why you want to be there. But I think you’re not really letting yourself admit just how much what those boys did to you hurt.” Greg pulled Allen back up against him and buried his head in Allen’s hair. His warm breath felt soothing and yet stifling at the same time. And Allen’s heart started pounding again.

“I-I know what they—”

“You’re hurting, my love. You had a panic attack just less than an hour ago, and it was worse than I remember you having in a very, very long time. I’m...” Greg seemed to hesitate, and Allen felt tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. “I’m really,reallynot comfortable with this. Please... please reconsider.”

Allen couldn’t answer right away, and Beans chose that moment to scratch at the door to be let back in anyway. Needing to move, Allen pulled out of Greg’s arms and silently headed over to open the door and let the dog back in. Then he turned backaround and watched as Beans circled the kitchen, his nose in the air, sniffing as though he’d caught some very interesting scent. Greg hadn’t moved from his spot, but Allen couldn’t bring himself to meet his husband’s eyes.

“I’m... going,” Allen said finally, after Beans had taken off out of the room and clambered back up the stairs. Allen stared at the ground now, and his resolve felt about as shaky as his hands. Why was he being so stubborn? Greg was probably having the same thoughts.

Yet the words that came from across the room didn’t indicate that. Nor did Greg’s soft tone.

“Okay, okay,” Greg said. Allen closed his eyes again as Greg moved closer. Two strong hands settled on his upper arms. “You’ll let me walk with you? And pick you up?”

There was a plea to his husband’s voice, and Allen swallowed hard as he nodded. “Of course.”

“Okay.” Lips pressed lightly to his forehead. “Can I make you toast and an omelet? We’ve got peppers and spinach and those fresh chives.”

“That sounds good.”

With a nod, Greg moved away from him, over toward the refrigerator to get started making breakfast. After a moment, when Allen had gathered himself enough, he followed, taking his spot next to Greg along the counter.

Chapter Eleven

Greg

Greg chopped the pepperswhile Allen cracked the eggs, and in not too long, they were sitting down at the table, eating breakfast. But the conversation between them had been stilted, the air thick with tension and uncertainty. Greg just didn’t know what to say. Or what to do.

It seemed like a very bad decision to him—for Allen to go into work today to supervise Christopher and Owen. A very bad decision. Particularly after the morning Allen had had—the shaking and trembling, the spiral, the panic.

He wanted to be supportive. He knew Allen needed that above all else. Only, Greg wasn’t so sure being supportive was the best thing in this instance. His gut was telling him he needed to try a little harder to convince Allen to stay home... in the most supportive way possible.

He took the last bite of his omelet and glanced up across the table at his husband as he chewed. Allen had the newspaper openin front of him, but he wasn’t moving—his eyes were unfocused and looking elsewhere, not at the newspaper, and his omelet sat almost untouched, one hand loosely holding his fork.

Greg frowned again and then lightly cleared his throat. “Joe’s barbeque is tomorrow afternoon,” he said, hoping to break the silence and the tension that had come with it.

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