Page 36 of For the Rest of Forever

The shutter clicked onemore time, then Greg stepped away from the camera, letting his hand drop to his side. His eyes followed the rocky tree-lined ridge in the distance, out beyond the fork in the river. Straggling wisps of morning fog drifted low along the base of the mountain, though the sky above was bright blue. It was the perfect shot and exactly what he’d been hoping for.

He let himself linger there for another moment, committing the scene to memory. He’d have his photographs, of course, but a photograph couldn’t replicate the sounds of birds chirping in the trees and the quiet babbling of the Middle Fork Snoqualmie River just to his left. Nor could it replicate the feeling of the fresh Wednesday morning air or the smell of the forest or the real, true grandeur of the mountains in front of him.

Somehow, it took the edge off all the tension and stress from the last week and a half. Grounded him. Refilled his soul.

With a final gaze out at the mountain, Greg turned back to his camera, sitting on a tripod right at the river’s edge, and began to dismantle his setup. Carefully but quickly, he packed everything back up, then shouldered his backpack and started back toward the trailhead, picking his way slowly along the riverbank. The morning sun was well on its way up in the sky, and a glance at his watch told him he had just enough time to get home, put his equipment away, and make breakfast before walking Allen to work.

Allen had called out Monday and Tuesday after they’d talked more. The decision was made a little bit easier when Allen’s therapist, Dr. Schultz, had called to tell them she had an opening for Monday morning and she wanted to see Allen right away. Then Allen had also gotten in to see his physician Tuesday afternoon.

Nothing of note had been found during Allen’s checkup with his physician, which had been a huge relief to both of them. But the session with Dr. Schultz had been rough. Allen had asked for Greg to be there, which he’d sometimes done over the years. And Greg had of course obliged.

But it had been difficult to hear Allen talk openly about everything that had happened—rehashing all of the events of the last two weeks, admitting to all of the dark thoughts he’d been having. Greg had sat there with him and held his hand and listened. There’d been talk of scheduling an appointment with a psychiatrist to discuss medication, which Allen had quietly refused, as he always did, but the doctor had also reminded Allen of all the coping mechanisms and strategies he had at his disposal and walked both of them through some additional relaxation exercises that Greg and Allen could do together.

And they’d talked more about how Greg could support Allen when things got challenging and how Allen felt when he had to lean on Greg for that support.

It had been a lot. And since then, Allen had been more quiet than normal. Not unhappy or upset or anything. Just more quiet. Thoughtful. And he hadn’t brought up Jack Mountain again, which both bothered Greg and didn’t.

Greg frowned as he approached his SUV and pulled his key fob out of his pocket to open up the back hatch. They should talk some more, he knew. If anything, that was the most important thing that had come out of their session with Dr. Schultz on Monday. That, and the reminder that Allen’s pain was still all there. Even when he seemed fine and happy and joyful, the trauma of his childhood wasstillthere with him, buried below his comfortable smile and kind eyes.

That reminder only made Greg love Allen even more. Allen, who, despiteeverythinghe’d been through and experienced growing up, was the kindest, gentlest person Greg knew. Kind, selfless, loving, caring. Also brilliant and generous and thoughtful.

Greg sat on the back of the SUV and changed out of his hiking boots, trying to ignore the tickle of fear in his chest. That morning, he’d been reluctant to leave. They’d talked about it—that Greg would take a short outing to Snoqualmie if the weather was right to try to get some new photos of the mountains wrapped in the morning fog. They’d talked about it and agreed to it, and Greg had insisted that they tell Joe next door. And he’d only been gone for about an hour and a half now. But it was the first time since Saturday morning that he’d been away from Allen at all, and it was slightly terrifying to him.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket as he shoved his hiking boots into the hatch space in the back of his SUV. No reception still. He’d known that. He was more than familiar with this area and the spotty reception his phone got. But that didn’t help his worry at all.

As quickly as he could, he closed the hatch and then took his spot behind the steering wheel, carefully setting his backpack in the passenger seat. Minutes later, he was on the road and headed back toward home, trying not to obsessively check his cell for notifications.

The drive from the trailhead wasn’t long—only about a half hour—and by the time he pulled up into the driveway at home, it was about eight fifteen. He parked, grabbed his backpack, and headed inside.

Beans greeted him in the doorway, which Greg took as a good sign since the dog had been sticking to Allen like glue since Saturday. Greg knelt down for a moment to scratch Beans just behind his ear, right where he knew the dog would like it most, and when he stood up, Allen was starting down the stairs, dressed for work in his usual slacks and button-up. Beans rushed back to the base of the stairs and sat, his tail wagging as he watched Allen descend.

“How’d it go?” Allen asked. He had one hand on the railing and was taking each step carefully. “Did the fog stick around long enough for you to get the shot you wanted?”

Greg nodded. “Sure did. It was perfect. The lighting too—exactly as I’d wanted. I think this one will be pretty popular.”

“Good.” Allen’s smile was tight, and Greg tried not to feel worried about that as he met Allen at the bottom of the stairs.

“You’re okay? You’re still feeling okay?” He reached out to take Allen’s hand and then pulled his husband into a soft embrace. Allen nodded against him.

“Yeah. I’m okay. But... but I’m still tired, like I just can’t shake it off, no matter how much sleep I get. But I feel better than I did over the weekend.”

Greg appreciated the honesty, and he tried to push his worry away. He turned his head slightly to press a light kiss against his husband’s cheek. “Good, good. Did you eat already? Can I makeyou something?” He stepped away, but let his hand caress down Allen’s arm until their fingers intertwined.

There wasn’t an immediate response to his questions, and when he squeezed Allen’s hand lightly, all he got was a small smile and a weak shake of Allen’s head.

“No to both?” he asked, frowning. He waited, but Allen didn’t respond again. “You need to eat, darling.”

“I know, and I—I just, um . . .”

“Some toast, at least. Here, I’ll make you some toast. We have that sourdough I bought yesterday from Valerie. Okay?”

“Okay, yeah. That sounds great, actually,” Allen admitted, giving Greg another smile. It looked forced though, and it really did nothing to placate Greg. In fact, if anything, he felt even more concerned now.

Still, he nodded and led them both into the kitchen. Beans didn’t follow, and Greg thought he heard the dog trotting back up the stairs.

“You just take a seat here, and I’ll handle everything, okay?”

“Greg . . .”

---