Page 55 of For the Rest of Forever

Greg’s hand covered Allen’s and squeezed gently, and Allen tried again. In and out. And then again. And when he managed some sort of a rhythm, he heard Greg again, counting for him this time. “Breathe in, two, three; out, two, three. There you go. Good.I love you. I’m here with you. Let’s try again. Breathe in, two, three; out, two three.”

Gradually, the sharp pinpricks dulled, and the pain in his chest—the weight crushing his lungs—lessened. Gradually, awareness came back to him. He could feel the soft material of Greg’s shirt against his palm, the reassuring and light caresses of Greg’s hand up and down his forearm, the wetness of the tears on his cheeks. And there was a slight chill in the air as a stiff breeze blew in from the water. He shivered and closed his eyes tighter.

God, what had just happened? One minute, he’d been thinking about . . . about . . .

“I’m sorry. I-I’m sorry. I—” All of his energy was gone, and he took one more deep breath in and then exhaled on a sob. “I’m sorry, Greg. But I need you.”

“You have me, Allen. I’m here. I’m here. You’re okay. You’ll be okay. Stay with me, okay?”

He heard it again—a desperation in his husband’s voice—and he nodded against Greg’s chest.

“Good, good. It’s okay. We’re here together, okay, Allen?”

They stayed that way for another few moments, and then Greg started talking again, quietly and reassuringly, his voice kind and gentle and resonant. “Do you remember, darling, on our first date, when I left my wallet at the restaurant? Ah, I thought you must have imagined me to be the most scatterbrained idiot in the world. I’d never done anything like that before, ever, and...”

Greg continued, and Allen listened as Greg recounted much of that night—how they’d had to backtrack to the restaurant to find Greg’s wallet and then missed the first half hour of the movie; how Greg had been secretly overjoyed when the only seats left in the theater had been all the way in the top back corner, giving them just a little bit of privacy; how he’d felt so happy when Allen had leaned his head on Greg’s shoulder midway through the film; howhe had wanted to kiss Allen at the end of the evening but had been just a little too nervous; and how he’d absolutelylovedwhen Allen had kissed him instead.

And the whole time Greg was speaking, Allen kept his hand solidly on Greg’s chest, feeling it rise and fall, anchoring him there.

Finally, the fogginess cleared around him enough that he felt connected with his body again. Connected and present.

Greg was still talking. Something about the day they’d adopted Beans from the local animal shelter, and Allen smiled, even as another tear slipped down his cheek.

“Stubborn little thing, still,” Greg said, and he seemed to maybe lower his cheek to rest against the top of Allen’s head.

Allen sniffled and nodded into Greg’s chest. “They warned us.”

There was a half-second pause and then a quiet huff of laughter. “They did. I think the lady’s exact words were, ‘He’s sweet, but... well, you know.’”

“I love the little stinker.”

“Me too.”

There was silence then, and Allen could hear the water down on the beach below them, lapping gently at the shore, and a low rustling of the grass in the breeze. He blinked his eyes open for the first time in however long, and though he’dknown, for some reason, he was surprised that they were sitting. They were sitting there, right in the middle of the trail, right on the grass, Greg holding him with one arm around his shoulders. And... and he hadn’t died. He hadn’t been having a heart attack.

But he’d nearly collapsed, right there on the trail. Or maybe hehadactually collapsed, and Greg had caught him. That seemed more like it, he thought, piecing together the bits of memories from the last... however long.

How far out were they? And would he be able to make it back to the trailhead?

And . . .

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, and then he swallowed hard as he felt Greg’s breath hitch.

“We should talk about... whatever just happened,” Greg said quietly, his hand stilling on top of Allen’s, which now rested on Greg’s thigh. “But maybe when we’re back at the cabin, and when you’re feeling okay.”

That seemed logical, although Allen’s brain wasn’t feeling super logical right now, and he wasn’t sure he could wait that long. He shook his head slightly, closed his eyes, and took a slow, measured breath.

“No?”

“No, I don’t know if . . .”

“It’s okay. I’ll help you. We’ll walk slowly, and—”

“I meant, I should tell you now. Before we go anywhere. And I don’t think I can walk yet anyway. I feel so weak. I... I’m so sorry.”

Greg kissed the top of Allen’s head again and tightened his arm around Allen’s shoulders. “We can take our time, darling. And I, um, I’m listening if you want to talk now.”

The uncertainty in Greg’s response hit him hard, and if he hadn’t already been sitting, he might have swayed on his feet. He pressed his hand into Greg’s thigh and took a long, slow breath. “Whatever just happened,” he started, his voice low and shaky, “i-it was because I’d planned to make one last argument to—to... convince you.”

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