Page 111 of Courageous Hearts

“Love you,” I mouth.

Bo’s eyes are ever so soft as their lips move in a breathless response. Love you, too.

Epilogue

Three Years Later

Bo

It’s still dark when Jameson leads me through the familiar, well-trodden trail beneath birch trees and pine. A branch catches on my sleeve for a moment before snapping free, and our shoes crunch on the leaves, dirt, and pine needles underfoot.

“How’d your talk with Diesel go?” Jameson asks quietly as a bird trills not far off.

“Good,” I say with a little smile, recalling the chat I had with my brother just yesterday. “He’s gonna see if he can get time off to visit soon. Maybe next month.”

When Diesel called me up a year ago to ask if it was too late to get to know his sibling, I was floored. He told me he’d been thinking long and hard about why he had trouble with queer folks to begin with. And when he couldn’t drum up a single reason that wasn’t our father’s voice inside his head, he picked up the phone.

Our first few conversations were uncomfortable yet honest, and Diesel made plenty of mistakes. But he was trying, and he was listening and learning, and that made all the difference.

When he asked if he could come meet Jameson, I lost it just a little.

“Wanna stop by Grant and Sophia’s house after this?” I ask, thoughts drifting to other family. “We could drop off some food.”

Jameson smiles, squeezing my hand. “I bet they’d appreciate that. Lord knows they have their hands busy with those newborns.”

Much to everyone’s delight, Grant and Sophia recently got the call that they were going to be parents. The adopted twins, one boy and one girl, are still tiny, waily things, but from the moment they were placed in Sophia and Grant’s arms, they became family.

I’ll never forget the look in Sophia’s eyes and the conviction in her voice when she said it was meant to be. Twins—just like Jameson and Grant.

Jameson and I have visited a few times since everyone arrived home from the hospital three weeks ago, healthy and happy, despite the crying of both varieties. And Dominica is overjoyed to be a grandmother. She dotes on those babies more than her herbs.

She dotes on me, too. I can’t say I mind that one bit.

“Here we are,” Jameson says softly as we crest the small hill at the end of the trail.

The pair of us stop, standing still as the sound of waves crashing ashore welcomes us. The tiniest sliver of light is rising above the horizon, splitting the sky into the faded blue of the morning and the still-dark navy of water below.

Sunrise at our beach. It’s worth waking up early for.

Without a word, Jameson and I take off our shoes and socks. We carry them at our sides as we tromp down the small dune, kicking up sand as we go. There are a few seagulls far off to the right, but the beach is otherwise deserted. The shore stretches far in the distance to either side of us, seemingly going on forever.

Lowering myself to the sand, I fold my legs up in front of me, and Jameson takes up position behind, cradling me with his bigger body. I smile, leaning my weight against him, catching the glint of my silver engagement ring as it rests on his bent knee.

He asked me earlier this year. Of course, I said yes.

“This is one of my favorite things to do with you, Blue,” Jameson says, resting his chin over my shoulder. “Just the two of us in this spot that’s so cozy and yet so…big.”

I understand what he means. It’s a small sliver of our kind of paradise, and yet, looking out at the waves and the light pinks and reds starting to stretch into the sky, it’s limitless.

“You like it better than watchin’ me up on stage?” I tease. Because I know Jameson still loves that a whole lot, too. He never makes a secret of his appreciation for some of my racier cabaret outfits, even though I know he loves me regardless of what I’m wearing. But it’s nice to feel wanted in the things I like to wear, lace lingerie included. And I never tire of seeing that look of adoration and heat on Jameson’s face, whether we’re at work or simply lounging together at home.

“Do you know why I love this so much?” Jameson asks instead of answering my question.

“You love the beach,” I say simply. He always has.

But Jameson shakes his head before his stubble rasps against my cheek. He kisses me softly. “I love it because I’m sharing it with you. You make everything in my life better, Bo. You’re my true north. My greatest adventure. I’ve never been happier than I am now, with you.”

“Jamie,” I croak, turning my upper body in his hold.

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