Page 80 of A Bloom in Winter

He shifted over and put his other hand on the far side of the wolf’s chest. “Callum, if you’re in there, I want you to know that I’ve spent the last thirty years thinking of you every day. It’s like you had died and I’ve been mourning you—and to deal with the pain, I made up stories about us. I made . . . a whole life for you and me. In my mind.”

Staring into the nearly white eyes of the wolf, his voice cracked, but he was able to keep going. “See, I didn’t know you long enough to have the little things. The cereal box in the store, the one I knew you liked. The jacket that still smelled like you. The side of the bed that was yours, the key ring you took everytime you left . . . the sound you made when you said my name as you came. We didn’t get any of that. So I created our life, and I mourned it all as if it had existed.”

He glanced away and cleared his throat, embarrassed and yet somehow glad he was revealing all this to the wolf. “You liked Wheaties, in my made-up world. So I used to . . . buy a box, and eat it for First Meal. And when I poured the milk, I’d cry. It was the breakfast of champions, which is why I chose it for you.” He took a deep breath. So he could keep going. “In my fantasy world, we fell in love in the summer immediately after the liberation. You came home with me to Caldwell and recovered through that spring, and then as the color of the leaves deepened into that darkest green of late July . . . we fell in love. We took walks down by the river at night, under the moon. So I would go there each August, and stroll by the lazy, hot Hudson . . . and mourn.”

He moved his hands up and ran them over the wolf’s head and down its neck. “In our pretend life, we watchedThe Officereruns when we were together . . . so I used to play them on my iPad, and pretend I could hear you laugh. And I would mourn.”

A cold wind blew around the pair of them, him and the wolf, and his eyes teared up. “In our created life, you died in winter. So the winters have always been the hardest on me. The mourning . . . has always been the loudest when it is cold outside. In the time of snow and ice, I have always missed you most.”

He threaded his fingers into the softness of the fur, and went so deep, the warmth of the flesh registered. Then he released his hands and thought of the way Callum had backed away, twice.

“If you’re in there, Callum, I want you to know we had a wonderful life.” He touched his temple. “In my mind, I did us . . . proud. And I’ve been loyal to your memory for thirty years.”

I think it’s you. But I just don’t know that I can get there.

As he heard the male’s voice in his head, for the first time in not just thirty years, but a hundred years, Apex looked into the future. And what he saw broke him.

He saw the male he loved trying so hard to force something that just didn’t exist and wasn’t meant to be. On his side, Apex had been living and mourning an epic, breathtaking, star-crossed love story. On Callum’s, the male had been frozen in a nightmare, anchored to a past so horrific, he could think of nothing less.

“That you’re even trying . . .” He had to wipe his eyes. “Is enough love for me. It’s the love I have always wanted to feel.”

As he choked up, he shuffled back. Rose to his full height. Rubbed his face on the inside of his jacket sleeve.

“And here’s the thing. I love you enough . . . to ask you to stop trying.”

He looked out to the garage, to that lineup of windows. And thought of them going dark, one by one, the night before.

“All I want is for the pain to stop for you. I don’t care if it goes on for me. Because some things cannot be separated, and . . .” Apex took a deep breath. “I’m sorry I came here and upset you, but maybe this was all meant to be. If it’s opened up a door for you, go through it, Callum. Welcome to the present, and go on into your future with my blessing. Leave me with the past . . . and go forward. You deserve it, after all these years.”

This was the trial run, he thought.Say this shit to the wolf, then speak it to the male.

“I’ll be here for tonight and through the day tomorrow. Our time ends after this. I won’t . . .” Now he lost the ability to speak, his throat closing to the point where he couldn’t draw breath. “I won’t come back. I won’t try to find you. I’ll leave us where we’ve always been—in the past. And pray that you will go on without me . . . and find some happiness with . . . someone else.”

Bending down, he touched the wolf’s face, and saw the male’s at the same time, the two together, even though that wasn’t possible.

And yet it was.

Apex smiled sadly, deciding he’d been stupid to think his heart couldn’t possibly be broken any further.

Turned out being left behind was another shade of suffering.

“All you and I have ever had was a what-if,” he said roughly. “But it’s been the what-if of my lifetime.”

He laughed a little. “And come on, that’s more than some people get, you know? It’s certainly more than I expected—and even if it’s mostly pain, the suffering’s been the way I’ve loved you.”

Abruptly, the wolf moved closer, and then that majestic head rested on Apex’s upper leg.

The weeping hit him hard, his tears flowing onto the white fur, as the cold wind swirled around and he didn’t feel the subzero temperature at all.

There was a relief, in finally saying his piece.

And at least the wolf seemed sympathetic.

Back in the kitchen at the rear of the big house, Mahrci was sitting on a stool at the stainless steel counter. In front of her was a beer, an open bag of potato chips . . . and a male who was making mince out of a yellow onion.

She hadn’t had more than a sip of the Sam Adams, but the chips hit the spot.

The male was—

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