Page 55 of Spring Breakup
Dean glanced up from the boutonniere he was trying to pin on himself and gaped at the love of his life.
“Tyler, why would you tell me that an hour before we get on a plane?”
Tyler was sprawled back on the chaise lounge—one that brought back lots of good memories. He was already dressed for the wedding, wearing navy chinos and a crisp white-and-blue floral camp shirt. He’d made an attempt at taming his chin-length hair, but the hair was winning that fight. Dean wanted to eat him alive.
“I’m just saying… Out of all the people in the world, we’re trusting Sargent Rossi to land us on a glacier safely?” Tyler said, his voice full of humor that Dean suddenly didn’t share. “I’d rather not know what my pilot’s underwear looks like. I’d prefer my pilot be a total mystery. Makes it easier to believe they’re competent.”
“You weren’t worried about Sarg’s competence last night,” Dean said. Tyler shot Dean a naughty smile. They’d utilized the Chum Smoke Cabins’ sauna in the middle of the night, and Sarg had been a fun addition to the sweaty experience. “He takes tourists out there several times a week. We’ll be fine.” Dean was mainly reassuring himself at that point. He planted his hands on both sides of Tyler’s head, caging him in. “You’re trying to rile me up.”
Tyler grinned. He was relaxed, his body loose and pliant after several days of banging as much as possible in the very cabin where it had all begun.
It had been over a year, and Dean had never felt safer or happier. Tyler saw and understood Dean in a way that both settled and sparked him.
“Is it working?” Tyler asked.
“Angel, we only have an hour before we’re supposed to meet the wedding party at the airstrip.”
“I know for a fact you can tie me up, light me up, and wring me out in less than an hour. I’d probably have time to shower again.”
Dean shook his head at the firecracker of a man below him. He remembered when Tyler could hardly hint at sex without blushing. What had happened to his shy prude of a boyfriend?
“I have to finish my best man speech,” Dean said reluctantly. He would have loved to take Tyler apart.
“Your speech that’s not a speech.”
“Yes.” Dean sat down on the edge of their bed. The sun-streaked woods beyond their open window had soft forest floors covered in pine needles, mushrooms growing from every stump, and creeks galore. It was a fairy world as beautiful in the summer as the snow-capped spring.
“Stop fiddling with it. They’re going to adore it,” Tyler said.
Dean wasn’t sure he agreed.
Tyler stood and picked up the boutonniere Dean had abandoned. He pinned it to Dean’s chest before cupping Dean’s chin. “Your art is worthy of this moment, sweetheart.”
Dean tried to stare down at his lap. Tyler didn’t let him, using a firm hand to keep Dean’s head tilted up. Tyler didn’t call Deansweetheartvery often, but it completely shattered Dean when he did. And to use it then, in a reference to Dean’s art and insecurities—oh damn.
Tyler smiled and lightly brushed Dean’s lips with his thumb. “Do you know how much I love you?” Tyler asked like it was a real question and not a rhetorical one.
“I hope it’s even half as much as I love you. Because that’s a whole hell of a lot.”
“We come here to Alaska, and everything is so huge and vast and wild. There’s a forest that goes on forever and mountains that rise straight out of the ocean. Last time, it was snow and ice that seemed endless and terrifying. It leaves me speechless and overwhelmed and awestruck. And that wonder doesn’t touch the depth of feeling I have for you.”
Dean laughed and tried to rub the rush of emotion out of his eyes. “Damn it, Tyler. What the hell?”
A huge, unburdened smile split Tyler’s face. “I’m not sorry. They’re going to love your speech. They’re going to think it’s amazing.” He smacked a kiss against Dean’s lips. “Now put on your hiking boots, and let’s go.”
* * *
There wereeight people attending Rosie and Leo’s wedding on Skipper Glacier—Rosie’s sister, Sasha, and her husband, Perry; Rosie’s brother, Benji, and his partner, William; Leo’s parents; and Dean and Tyler.
It was an unusual wedding but no less full of devotion for that fact. Rosie had told Tyler she’d never planned to get married again, but they wanted to get Leo on her health insurance, which seemed like as loving and modern a reason as any Tyler could think of. She had been the one to propose, a detail Tyler and Dean had missed amidst their own drama. Not much else in Rosie and Leo’s life was changing. Not her last name, their finances, their living arrangements, or their hard-fought independence. Tyler was proud of Rosie and Leo for continuing to pave their own paths, together and apart. A piece of paper wasn’t going to change that.
The flight, which only took thirty minutes from the airstrip outside Silverbrite Springs, didn’t actually scare Tyler. He trusted Sarg. It was a bluebird day with no wind, and Dean held his hand the whole time.
They all fit on Sarg’s twelve-seater plane. The photographer—whom Rosie had found via a referral from Brooks—sat next to Sarg in the copilot’s seat.
As they flew over Skipper Lake, Sarg said through the headsets they were wearing, “There’s the scar from your avalanche on our left.”
Tyler and Dean peered out the window. They had driven and walked past the avalanche location several times since arriving a few days before, and fragments of leftover damage were visible from the road. But from the air, it was as if someone had scraped off a whole swath of mountain. There were no trees growing in that area, and the ground was lighter than the surrounding mountain.
