I force my fingers against the keyboard, struggling to push through an email to Vanessa about setting up a meeting between me and this CEO who’s been making some pretty fucking terrible business decisions for what was a major investment for me. The company is based in Portland, and I wouldn’t mind meeting the CEO there next week.

Now’s a good time to get away, I figure. Maybe I’ve been in Atlanta too long.

Despite my justifications, deep down, I realize what I’m doing. Running again from the demon as it hounds me through some dark forest. I need to get away from it all, I keep telling myself, especially after what happened with Jesse last night.

As much as I know he’s been my ally through all this, I feel so fucking betrayed. He’s supposed to be on my side.

Jesse’s a good guy, I remind myself, but I’ve learned how pointless those sorts of assurances are since our fight. Despite what I know about Jesse, and how supportive he’s been, in his response to my request, I feel totally alone.

But knowing he cares, knowing how much he has understood me…more than most…makes his betrayal cut like a fucking knife.

I care about him so much. It aches when I think about leaving him for any amount of time—a knot twisting in my chest—stinging, burning.

How can I live with this painful feeling?

This isn’t about leaving him, I tell myself. I need time and space. My feelings about what happened will pass, but even though I know that’s true, what I fear is that all those defenses I worked to pull down for Jesse, those will return…and I will push him away, the way I push everyone away.

I don’t want to do this, but this is who I am.

I’m about to hit Send on the email, but I stop myself. I don’t want to do this to him…to us. But that I even got as far as writing that email terrifies me about where we’re at right now.

There’s a knock on my office door. I hadn’t even realized he’d gotten home. I must have been too distracted to hear him come in.

“Come in,” I say. “It’s unlocked.”

Jesse must know that. Although, I don’t figure he was knocking because he thought it was locked, but because he felt like he needed my permission.

Amazing how that incident last night could leave us both feeling as though we’re walking on eggshells around one another. There’s this rift between us.

As I turn around in my swivel chair, I see this sad expression on his face that I want to kiss right off. I imagine that kid who had all those nightmares about being abandoned, and I’m already glad I couldn’t force myself to send that email.

I’m not leaving him. Still, he must sense that I’ve already abandoned him emotionally.

I rise to my feet. I’m trying to avoid looking at him because I don’t know that I can stand that expression he’s making.

“I think we should talk about last night,” he mutters.

That’s so him. He doesn’t play games or beat around the bush, just goes right for it. It’s that maturity that I’ve always seen in him, and in many ways, he has something I’ve lacked—the ability to face a difficult situation. In most areas of my life, that’s not an issue, but with this particular subject, I’m still running from this phantom, scared and afraid.

“We don’t have to discuss it, Jesse. We’re not going to agree on this. You made it very clear that you don’t want to help me and—”

“Not help you?” Jesse asks, interrupting me. “Eric, I’m here because I’m trying to help you. I’m going to therapy sessions and yoga. I’ve been trying to figure this out.”

I hear the hurt in his voice, the pain that I saw in his expression last night when I shut down…because he knows me better than most people, who wouldn’t pick up on those subtle cues, who would just think something else about it.

Not my Jesse, though.

“That’s not what I meant, and you know it,” I snap. “I’m very appreciative of you being there for all that.” Despite my curtness, I’m sincere in that much, and I would never want him to think otherwise. “I see everything you do, Jesse, and I appreciate it. That’s why I didn’t make a scene about last night, because I know you think you’re doing what’s right. But it hurts that you didn’t trust me on this.”

“Is that what this is about to you?” he asks. “Trust?”

“Of course that’s what this is about.”

“Eric, that night when we were camping, I thought we were going to share something magical and special. You were so excited, and I thought, ‘Now is the time.’ And what happened? There I was, thinking I was going to make you feel amazing, and suddenly I put you into the worst panic attack I’ve ever seen anyone have. Do you have any idea what that did to me?”

His words tear through my defenses as I imagine his pain that night—the horror of watching someone going through that. “Jesse, I am so sorry—”

“I’m not asking for an apology. You didn’t do anything wrong, but it’s still there in my head. I still see this image of you, struggling, fighting something within you. Do you know how difficult it is for me to watch? It’s not even just that night. Every day, I see a little bit of it still there, and I’m terrified that I’m going to do something to be the cause of that pain again.

“So last night, when you said you wanted to try, it scared the shit out of me because, not only did I have that image playing in the back of my mind, but you were asking me to do that…and to me, you might as well have been asking me to stab you in the gut with a knife…because you wanted me to.”

As guarded as I’ve been, maybe even unreasonable about not seeing this through his eyes, I start to see beyond my own selfish desire to push past this insecurity within me. How this isn’t just about me.

“I’m so sorry,” I say.

“I’m sorry too.” Jesse approaches cautiously. This isn’t what I want. I like that Jesse pushes my buttons and gets me riled up. I’ve enjoyed how he pushes through my boundaries, not this trepid man who’s treating me the way I fear so much.

“I’m not weak, Jesse,” I blurt out. “You don’t have to walk on eggshells around me. You don’t have to put on rubber gloves.”

“Eric, I’ve never seen you as a weak man. I know you’re hurt, and I’ve seen the strength you’ve built from that. But it’s okay to be vulnerable. It’s okay to not have every single thing in your goddamned life figured out or put together.”

As he reaches me, I take his hands, and he rubs his thumbs softly into my palms.

“I’m on your side, Eric.”

I feel the truth of his words, which disperse all that pain I’ve been feeling in my chest.

As I look up to face him, I realize he’s doing the same until our gazes meet.

This quiet between us is so familiar.

For the first time since our fight, I see the boy and the man before me—the one I fell in love with, who captivated me from the very start. I see his sympathy, his understanding.

“I love going to your sessions with you and working on these exercises,” he continues. “And I’m trying to Google and read up on all this, figure out what you need from me. But fuck, last night wasn’t in anything I’ve read, and I didn’t know the right answer. I didn’t want to fuck everything up, and I’m terrified of being the one who makes things worse for you. But really, as much as it would horrify me to see that happen to you again, if you need this, then I’ll do it, Eric. I’ll do whatever the fuck you need me to do. I don’t care what the therapists say is right or wrong for you because I don’t ever want you to feel like I’m not on your side. I don’t ever want you to feel as though you can’t count on me in this fucked-up mess we’re in.”

As he speaks those words, in the way tears fill his eyes and his face trembles, I can see how scared he is of following through with his offer to—as he put it—stab me with a knife if that’s what I really want. After hearing his side, I feel like such a cruel bastard for asking that of him.

Despite everything I’ve been telling myself, trying to use as a reason to keep a distance between us, I realize he’s on my side and that he has been this entire time.

Steadily, that wall I put up last night collapses, and though it shouldn’t surprise me that the man who was able to tear it down once before could wreck it once again, it does. Because Jesse never ceases to amaze me.

“You’ve always had a talent for this,” I tell him.

“For what?”

“Leaving me without reasons to fight…making me not want to fight. To just be with you.”

I cup my hand behind his head and stroke my thumb behind his ear as a tear releases from his eye. “I’ve been very selfish about this. I made last night about me, about your loyalty. That’s what this has been about for me all day. I’m realizing how wrong that was. It was wrong of me to ask you to do that, and it would be wrong of me to ask you tonight.”

His face trembles and he gasps, like he’s relieved to hear my words, reminding me of what a piece of shit I was to ask him to do that, not considering his own pain in all this. I hook my arms around him, pulling him close. “I’m so sorry, Jesse. I’m so sorry.”

“What did I tell you about saying I’m sorry?” he tries to joke, but the way his voice cracks, I can tell it’s a struggle for him.

I pull back because I want to look him in the eyes as I say, “But I am sorry. This isn’t about just me anymore. This is about us, and as much as I felt let down last night, I let you down. I didn’t want to abandon you, but I did…in my heart. I put up my defenses and pushed you away. Before you knocked on the door, I was trying to find an excuse to run…from you.”

His eyes widen, as though the thought rouses that fear I know is within him.

“I couldn’t do it, Jesse. I couldn’t do that to you. I never want to be the reason you feel abandoned any more than you want to be the reason I’m suffering. And I know I did that to you last night with how I reacted. This is a lot for me because I’ve never had to deal with anything like this before.”

“Yeah, you just started therapy and—”

“I’m not talking about the therapy, Jesse. I’m talking about being in love with you. I’m talking about finding myself opening up to another person, finding a way to build that bridge when I have spent my entire life trying to be good at being on my own. Even when I was with Casey, what I liked about that relationship was that it was superficial. He never pressed in the areas that mattered because he enjoyed not knowing the real me. It’s not easy for me to trust since my bastard uncle, but you’re the first person who’s given me a reason to open my heart again, and I’m scared. When I got defensive last night, I felt like I was so stupid for opening myself up to get hurt. But that’s part of what this is. We get hurt, even when the other person doesn’t mean anything by it, just like I didn’t mean to hurt you that night when I had that episode.”

“Eric, I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad about that night.”

“I know you weren’t, but it doesn’t change the wound that it put inside you, the wound I opened.”

He sniffles. “I’m pretty resilient. I’ll be fine.”

“I know you will be, Jesse. We’ll both be fine. And even if it kills me to wait through this stupid therapy and yoga antics…and maybe some stupid tango classes like Carolyn mentioned in that last session, I’ll suck it up. Like you said, what difference does it make if we do this tonight or six months from now or a year from now? The only thing I need right now in my life is you.”

“I need you too, Eric.”

I move toward him quickly. Before I know it, my lips are against his as I push him back against the doorframe. My hands have minds of their own as I pull off his shirt. He submits so easily.

As I kiss his face, I feel another tear slide out of his eye before I realize there’s one falling out of mine as well.

All I want is to show him how sorry I am for pushing him away.

I want to show him how close we can truly be tonight.

I tug at his waist, pulling his torso flush against my own, and I force my lips away from his. He takes a shaky breath as I look into his eyes.

My little lost boy.

I take his hand. “Come on,” I tell him.

He doesn’t fight me or resist as I get him into my bedroom, and soon we’re on the bed, naked, kissing. I’m lost in him again, appreciating his mouth, his tongue, his flesh, the feel of his fingers and hands against my back.

As I push deep within him, the sounds of his moans are…everything. I revel in his pleasure, those sounds reminding me that I’m making him feel good, that he wants this, that he wants me.

And I feel like the luckiest motherfucker who ever lived for getting to share this delicious experience with the only man who’s ever been worthy of my trust.

With his arms over his head as I thrust into him, he calls out my name. “Eric…I love you, Eric.”

“I love you too, Jesse,” I say before taking his mouth again, feeling that spark between us, one that sets fire the way it always has, feeling the intensity of the inferno that has transformed into a supernova as I decide to spend the rest of the night loving my gorgeous man the way he deserves to be loved.