Page 32 of For the Rest of Forever

He remembered wishing Allen had been there with him.

And as he stared at the photo now, he wondered just how many of the amazing photos he’d taken over his career had been taken when he was out alone and Allen was home. Just how much time had he made them miss together?

Too much time, he decided. Much too much time.

Yes, he’d gotten amazing photographs, and yes, Allen had supported him and his career, never complaining about him being gone, never asking him to stay home, never expecting anything different of him.

So maybe he shouldn’t be feeling guilty about it all. Allen knew him and loved him for who he was, and that included his need to beout. Out in the forest. Out on the trail. Out seeing the world, exploring, discovering, photographing.

But going forward . . .

Greg reached down and set his hand on top of Allen’s. His husband’s skin was warm, but the slight wrinkles on the back of his hand gave Greg a sense of fragility, thinness, like tissue paper. Easily ripped apart. Allen didn’t wake, which was good—he still needed the rest. But he seemed to let out a long sigh, and Greg smiled sadly to himself as his thumb rubbed along Allen’s knuckles.

Going forward, he wanted things to be different. He wanted more time together with his husband. No more long worktrips—like the one Paul had offered him. No more disappearing for days at a time to go off backpacking in the Olympic Wilderness or traversing the local-ish stretch of the PCT. He could get his dose of the forest and the mountains and trails on day hikes or on trips Allen could also make. He could stay close by, be the husband Allen needed him to be, show Allen exactly what he meant every time he said “I love you.”

There was already a pang in his gut as he glanced back at the photograph on the computer screen in front of him. He bit his lip and tabbed to another open window on the laptop. The towering peak of Jack Mountain stood off in the distance of the photo from some hiker’s blog. It was a beast. Not harder than some other mountains he’d climbed, but harder than anything he’d done in a long time.

And a part of him yearned for it still. Even with his new resolve. Even with the knowledge that he wasn’t going to go. He still felt the pull as he studied the photograph for another few seconds. But then, Allen shifted slightly next to him and mumbled something in his sleep, and Greg closed his eyes with a small, sad smile.

He wasn’t really sad, though. He’d done so much, seen so much. And some of that didn’t have to end. It just had to be modified to fit this new phase of his life.

He clicked the x in the corner of the screen, and Jack Mountain disappeared from view. The small waterfall with the rainbow glimmering in the mist popped back up in its place, and Greg smiled again. He could take Allen there. It was a couple of hours to drive there and then maybe two or three miles of easy hiking. No big hills or elevation gain. He could take Allen there and show it to him. And maybe they’d be lucky enough to have the sun peek through the trees, as it had on that day months ago, and he could show Allen this same view—the one Allen hadn’t gotten to see before.

And that would be infinitely better than any solo hike up Jack Mountain. Because he’d be with his husband.

“I love that photo.” Allen’s hand pressed into his thigh a little, and Greg smiled softly as he glanced down. Allen’s eyes were half-open, and he seemed to be studying the image on Greg’s computer. “It’s peaceful. Beautiful. And the colors are just right. Deep and rich and vibrant. I’m sure there’s a word for it that I don’t know. This is the one... you need to get off to the printer by when? Tomorrow?”

Greg lifted Allen’s hand to his lips and brushed a gentle kiss on his knuckles. “Yeah. I just need to finish a few adjustments, but”—with his free hand, he closed the laptop and then set it aside—“I can do that all later.”

He watched as Allen gave a small nod, shut his eyes, and then let out a long, shuddering breath. “How long have I been sleeping?”

“A couple hours, about. How are you feeling?”

“Um, I—oof!” Allen’s response was cut off as a wiggly brown ball of coarse fur clambered up onto the bed, climbed right over Allen, and settled in between the two of them, stretching out until he could stick his nose right into Allen’s face. Beans’s little pink tongue started licking Allen’s cheek as the pup wriggled up the bed even more, his tail thumping eagerly. “Beans!” Allen exclaimed, and Greg opened his mouth, ready to scold the dog and send the little furball back to his own bed. But then Allen laughed—the sound deep and hearty—and Greg closed his mouth again as he watched Allen pet Beans, still chuckling, still smiling.

It warmed his aching heart.

“You know that silly dog hasn’t left your side all afternoon, darling,” Greg said quietly as Beans calmed down a bit and rested his head on Allen’s shoulder. Allen opened his eyes again to meet Greg’s. “He’s been lying right next to the bed there the whole time.”

“Poor thing. Relegated to sleeping on the floor. He’d have been much more comfortable up here on the bed,” Allen teased. There was a tiny twinkle in his eyes, and Greg let out a huff of laughter.

“Ah, yes, the poor, poor neglected dog.”

“Big, bad Greg won’t even let you up on the bed, will he? But I said yes, so now it’s okay, huh?” Allen had turned his attention back to the dog and was scratching the terrier behind his ear. Beans closed his eyes like he was in heaven.

Greg shook his head with another small smile. He let the silence settle between them for just a moment as Beans rolled over onto his back, clearly taking advantage of the freedom he’d been given to be on the bed. Allen dutifully scratched the pup’s belly, and Beans began panting, his tongue lolling out the side of his mouth.

After another couple of minutes, Greg cleared his throat quietly. “You’re feeling a little better?”

Allen’s hand paused on Beans’s belly, and he gave a short nod. “The exhaustion is gone. It was intense earlier. I’m not sure about... about everything else, though. I mean, I’m not sure how I’m feeling about... how we...”

“...left things this morning?” Greg finished for him, shifting on the bed to lie on his side facing Allen. Beans was still between them, but Greg reached over the dog and cupped his husband’s cheek. He wanted a kiss—to reassure both of them, honestly. But Beans was too in the way for that, so he settled for stroking his husband’s cheek with his thumb.

“I don’t like when we argue, and I don’t like how it made me feel this morning. I was already hurting, but I got more upset and angry.” Allen had closed his eyes, maybe unable to look at Greg. But he leaned into Greg’s touch slightly and then inhaled a shuddering breath. And he didn’t seem to want to skirt talking about the hard truths in that moment. “You were right that I shouldn’t have gone in today. No matter how things turned out. Iwas stubborn about it, trying to ignore how I’ve been drowning. It’s all been too much lately, Greg. It’s all been too much. And I need to be surrounding myself with... people and situations where I feel lovedandsafe. Not—not pushing myself because I think I have to fix everything for everyone else right away. I need to listen to those I trust—you and Annabeth, both—because I’m obviously a terrible judge of—of what’s good for me right now. Especially with...”

He finally trailed off, his last words having lost all the conviction and sureness of his earlier ones. Beans wriggled a little between them, and Allen opened his eyes, but looked down at the dog, not at Greg.

Greg wasn’t sure whether he should say anything then. Did Allen want to continue, or had he said all he wanted to say? And the same uncertainty Greg had been fighting with all day—a feeling of being lost, ill-equipped to handle this situation—chose that moment to flare again. He let his hand drift slowly down Allen’s neck and shoulder, stopping on the bare skin of his upper arm, just above his elbow. He squeezed gently.

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