I sat alone at my dining room table eating the first meal I had cooked for myself in weeks.

I’d never had to cook a Thanksgiving meal by myself before. It made much more sense as a group meal, but that hadn’t been the case this year.

I’d set everything up for myself, the act of cooking the only thing keeping me from focusing on the pounding thought that had roiled in my mind for weeks—you are alone.

And tonight was the last night I’d get to have Pepper in my house, too. Her rightful owner would be coming the following day. I’d gone to the grocery store earlier in a rush, and of course it had been insanely busy—people getting last-minute foods for the holiday.

I got all the things I wanted to make, but I’d spent extra time in the pet food aisle, finding the fanciest cat food I could find and throwing it in the cart.

Tonight I’d cooked everything I needed for myself—a long, arduous task—and then gotten a bowl out, heated Pepper’s fancy food and set it down in front of her.

She’d gobbled it up immediately, of course. And watching her enjoy it so much was almost enough to make me want to cry. Tomorrow, she’d be back where she belonged, and I’d be here, in a bed of problems I’d created myself.

A rush of adrenaline shot through me when I heard a knock at the door. Who would be knocking on Thanksgiving? Maybe there was a problem in the neighborhood, or my car was somehow blocking someone in the street—I muted the TV that I had on playing football and glanced out the window. I couldn’t see the front door from the window, but I could see one thing—Devin’s car, just a little further up the street.

He was home. Immediately, my heart lurched as I realized it might be him at the door.

I hesitated, half-wanting to go hide in my room and not answer. But I knew that if he’d come from down the street, he must have seen me at the dining room table already. It was futile.

I looked around at my house, panic bubbling up in me. I was usually clean, clutter-free, and organized, but I’d let my house descend into a state of disarray over the past few weeks. It was shameful. But it was too late now to do anything about it—Devin was already at my door, and as I tried to gather a cluster of beer bottles that had accumulated on my counter, I heard him knocking again.

There was no use.

I went over to the door and swung it open.

“Devin,” I said, glancing at him. Seeing him was like an onslaught and a balm all at once—I both loved to be looking at him and felt immense pain welling up in me at the same time.

“You’re here,” he said, his look almost like a deer in the headlights like he was surprised to see me even though he had been the one to come over.

“I am,” I said.

“But your parents—how come you’re not with them?”

“Lots of reasons. But the simplest explanation is that we haven’t exactly been on the best terms, since… since they found out who I really am,” I said.

“They don’t support it?”

“They don’t outwardly tell me I’m bad for being attracted to men, but they certainly don’t support it.”

“Jesus,” Devin said, shifting on his feet, his big eyes looking up at me. I realized that a light flurry was coming down outside, and small snowflakes that had caught on Devin’s jacket were now melting as he stood under my front porch.

“What’s up, Devin?” I asked softly. It was becoming harder and harder to look at him without wanting to break down.

“I just…” he started trailing off. “I need to talk to you so bad, Russ, and I know this is not a great time, and it’s the holiday, and I’m probably interrupting you, and you don’t want to talk to me anyway—”

I held up my hand, and he stopped talking.

No matter how bad the state of my house was, it was too rude not to invite him inside. He looked so small, so cold, and no amount of my better judgment could prevent me from wanting to take him in.

I stepped back from the door, ushering him inside. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that he gawked around the house as he came inside.

“I know, it looks like shit in here,” I said.

His eyes glanced around the room, from the living room where stacks of paper had accumulated on every surface, to the kitchen which was overrun with dishes, to the recycling bin which desperately needed to be taken out.

And then his eyes landed on my dining room table, which, really, was the saddest of all.

It wasn’t dirty—quite the opposite. But it held a whole Thanksgiving meal, with only a place setting for one person. I’d lit a single candle, and it filled the room with a cozy scent, but it was painfully clear that I was totally, utterly alone.

Pepper came up to paw at Devin’s boots as he took in the surroundings of the house. He didn’t hide the look of shock on my face very well at all.

“What is it that you needed to say, Devin?” I asked, my voice quiet and low. I watched Pepper, wanting to focus on anything other than the pity in Devin’s eyes.

“Um,” he said, pausing as if he didn’t even know where to begin. “Russ—is this—are you okay?”

I shrugged, sitting back down in the chair in front of my half-eaten dinner. “Making Thanksgiving food is so much harder than I’d thought,” I said. “I thought I had it down—the green bean casserole was the easiest part, though it doesn’t really taste like the one my parents make. Sweet potatoes were easy, too, but I had every side on the table before the turkey was even near being ready. I had to wait so long for it—now I finally have it out, at nine o’clock, but it’s not very good.”

Devin said nothing. I knew it was stupid, and the last thing he wanted to hear about right now was my struggles with cooking timing, but talking about that was so much easier than talking about how I felt.

“Devin, did you come just to look around at my house, or did you have something to say to me?” I said, anger prickling within me. The anger was only with myself of course—anger and shame that Devin even had to see me like this.

“Jesus, Russ—”

“Because if so, then fine,” I said, taking a sip of the beer in front of me. “Feel free. I’m all alone, and it is what it is. But it’s getting harder and harder to watch you witness this.”

“God, Russ, you’re breaking my heart,” he said, picking up Pepper and coming slightly closer toward me. “You’re not alone. I’m here now—and you have Pepper—”

“This is the last night I’ll ever be able to spend with Pepper,” I said.

“What?” Devin said.

I nodded, looking down at her, wriggling happily in Devin’s arms. “Her owner came forward,” I said. “He’s coming over tomorrow to take her away. Then I’ll just be on my own.”

“I’m so sorry,” he said.

“It’s for the better,” I said. “I always knew she wasn’t really mine. But that doesn’t mean I don’t already love her.”

“I love her, too,” he said.

I nodded. I looked down at my food, suddenly not nearly as hungry as I should have been.

“Why’d you come over, Devin?” I repeated, needing some sort of answer.

“I… I have to talk to you about that night,” Devin said, his voice shaking slightly.

My jaw clenched. “What about it?”

“Why did you need to take a break from hanging out with me, Russ? Do you not even want to acknowledge that the night happened? How can we stay friends if you don’t even want to talk to me?”

“Don’t you understand, Devin? I can’t be a good friend to you. I thought—I hoped I was getting somewhere—making progress—but seeing you again tonight only confirms it. Look at this,” I said, gesturing around at the disarray of my house. “Clearly, I am not doing well.”

“Well, maybe that’s because instead of facing something head-on, you’re running from it, Russ,” he said, raising his voice. He sighed, bending to gently put Pepper back down on the ground. “Is there ever going to come a time when you take responsibility for the fact that running away from problems doesn’t fix them?”

“I’m not running away, Devin, I am trying to be my own person. No, it is not going well at the moment, but how can I ever be a good friend to you if I can’t even be on my own?”

“Because sometimes that’s what friends are for!” he said, throwing his arms in the air. “If I had known you’d be here like this, eating all on your own, I could have invited you over to my parents’, could have helped you clean, anything.”

I massaged the bridge of my nose.

A thought thrummed in my mind: just be honest with him. Just be honest.

But even though I’d been able to be honest with almost everything in my life lately, I somehow found myself unable to tell him the truth.

The truth was that I was so in love with him, yet knew that I was far too deeply inadequate to ever be his partner. If I told him that, our friendship could be ruined forever. But if I could get him to let me be alone for long enough—however long it took me to get the fuck over him—maybe I could be his friend again.

So instead of being honest, I was cold.

It felt like my only option.

“Don’t you understand when I tell you I can’t be a good friend to you right now, Devin?” I said. “Maybe at some point, but not now. If you don’t have anything else to say to me, then I politely ask that you leave. Being around you just makes me think of that night, and that’s what I’m trying so hard to forget.”

I couldn’t bear to meet his eyes after I said it. It was so cruel, so raw—but I didn’t know what else to do.

When Devin finally spoke up, his voice shook slightly. “I’m sorry that night was so bad for you,” he said. I closed my eyes, breathing in deep. “I’m sorry it was so bad that you can’t even fucking stand to be around me.”

I pushed back my plate, putting my elbows on the dining table and burying my face in my hands. I couldn’t let him see if I started to cry.

“I get it,” he continued. “I fucked up, I got too drunk, I made advances that you didn’t want. I’m so sorry, Russ. But can we really not move on from that? I promise you that it won’t happen again. I promise you that I can still be your friend, that I won’t see you differently just because of my idiotic actions that night. Can’t you do the same for me?”

I paused, swallowing hard. “I don’t know.”

There was a long enough pause that I started to wonder if Devin was even still in the room. When I finally looked up, opening my eyes again, he was still there, a tear running down his cheek. It felt like my heart was breaking open.

“You shouldn’t have come back to Rose Falls, Russ,” he said, his voice barely audible. He shook his head slowly, his bottom lip slightly quivering. “I don’t even know why you did.”

He turned then, making his way to the front door, and it slammed shut behind him.

Every muscle in my body was screaming at me to go after him, to tell him the goddamn truth, to quit living my life in a state of paralysis and to face what I knew I needed to.

I hated myself, in that moment. For all the hurt I’d caused Devin in the past and all the hurt I was causing now.

When Pepper jumped up onto my lap, I watched as a tear fell from my face onto her fur. She made a small sound, and I picked her up, holding her close.

“What am I doing,” I whispered into the air. I felt adrift, suddenly rootless, like I might not belong anywhere in the world.

All I could do was sit there, hold Pepper near me and live with the fact that I’d just hurt the person I cared most about.

Time passed like molasses. When I finally got up later to lock the front door, I saw out the window that the snow had started to come down in earnest. It was beautiful, and the first snow I’d seen in eight years.

I opened the front door, letting the chill come in, watching as the snowflakes fell at a gentle pace. When I stepped out onto the porch, making sure to close Pepper safely inside behind me, I noticed two things.

On the deck, directly to my right, there was a small object. I bent to pick it up, its soft texture coming up wet in my hands. It must have been sitting there for at least a few minutes, stray snowflakes collecting and melting on its surface.

It was the dog plush that I’d won for Devin at the fall festival.

As I clutched it in my hands I looked up toward Devin’s house and noticed the second thing: his car was no longer in front of his house.

He must have come to return the plush to my doorstep and then gone somewhere. I was fairly sure Devin hadn’t been drinking much that night, but worry started to creep over me, anyway—he’d been distraught when he left my house, and now that the snow was coming down faster, I didn’t know if driving was the best idea for him.

A memory came rushing back to me: one winter night in high school, soon after Devin had gotten his driver’s license, he had been so eager to drive that he’d gone out despite the imminent snowstorm. He’d called me, telling me he was going to drive up to the Promenade, get some ingredients for hot chocolate and come back down to my house.

I’d told him it was a bad idea, that he should just come over, and we’d use the cheap powder mix hot chocolate I had at home. But of course, he wanted “the good stuff,” and I knew I couldn’t stop him from trying.

Ten minutes later, he had called me again, disoriented, after his first car had slipped and spun into a brick wall on the side of the road. Devin was relatively fine—confused, for a while, and apologetic when I had rushed over to meet him. He had only been a few blocks away from his house.

It was unlikely that something like that would ever happen again. After all, he should have learned his lesson.

But I knew Devin. And I knew that if he was upset, he probably wasn’t thinking properly.

The road in front of my house looked slick. All it would take was one wrong move on the hilly streets in Rose Falls, and Devin could be in trouble.

From the moment he’d left my house, I had been steeped in regret for the way I handled the situation. But now, standing on my front porch, the gnawing fear that I had really fucked up began to claw at me.

I could let it go—let him go—and forever hate myself for what I had done.

Or… or I could go after him.

There was still time.

It seemed like a ridiculous thing to do when I’d been the reason he’d run off in the first place. But either way, our friendship was likely broken beyond repair. In that moment, I realized that I cared more about Devin than I cared about my own shame.

I had to find him, to make sure my own words hadn’t caused him to do something stupid.

And then even if he was fine—the most likely option—I could drive away. There would be no harm done. He’d never even have to know I came looking.

* * *

His car wasn’t in front of Emmett’s house when I drove by. I had never been to Meredith’s house, but she had mentioned she lived on the same block as Emmett, and I didn’t see Devin’s car anywhere on or around that street.

My next idea was that he went back to his parents’ house. As I drove through the familiar streets, pulling up to the modest house I remembered so well—it still had the same rose bush out in the front yard, now collecting snow—I still didn’t see any sign of Devin.

I tried texting Emmett to ask about his brother, but I got no reply.

Next, I drove up to the Promenade, snow whirling in front of the window as I went up the hill. My truck had new tires and did fairly well in the weather, but even I felt it slip a few times as I crept upward.

I drove around the perimeter of the Promenade at least four times, scouting every available parking spot for Devin’s car. It wasn’t there.

With every passing minute, I became more worried and more convinced that I had been stupid to try to look for , anyway. He could be anywhere, really—he had plenty of friends that I didn’t know, not to mention, Angelo.

Part of me knew that I’d gone looking for him only to help assuage the guilt that had built up inside me now, that somewhere inside I knew I probably wouldn’t be able to find him. But I couldn’t have stayed at home. Telling Devin to leave had produced the exact opposite effect of what I had wanted—now that I didn’t know where he was, he was the only thing I could think of.

Not that I’d really been able to think of anything else for the past three months.

As my car idled in a “no standing” zone outside the Promenade, I had no idea what to do next.

Devin was right—I shouldn’t have moved back to Rose Falls.

Because the truth was, he had been the biggest factor in my wanting to return. And now that all meant nothing.

I put the car in drive and started off aimlessly into the night. I couldn’t go home, not yet—there was nowhere in the world that seemed sadder at the moment.

So I drove. I snaked my way through the streets of Rose Falls—the familiar ones as well as ones I’d never been down. Tears welled up and fell from my eyes every once in a while, but I mostly ignored them, letting them fall as they came. Unbidden, I thought of something one of my elderly patients had once told me: that he’d loved a woman so much, and his only dying regret was that he’d never told her.

Devin would likely never know how I really felt.

In fact, it took me a few seconds to even register that there was one other car in the very dark parking lot.

After sitting idle in the lot for a minute, though, I blinked up, looking at the small sedan across from me, parked and accumulating a light blanket of snow.

It was Devin’s car.

A rush of adrenaline coursed through me. He was here. It was so obvious, and I should have thought to check here—but I never would have known he would go to a waterfall in the middle of a snowstorm.

He must have done something like I had done, driving through the night and ending up here. He was probably sitting in his car right now, just like I was, with no idea that I was right here.

I cut the engine of my truck, the headlights going out. The only other light in the lot was from two lone streetlamps, and snowflakes fell in their amber light.

I got out of the car. I was only wearing a hoodie, and it was nowhere near the amount of warmth I needed, but I hadn’t exactly been thinking about clothing when I’d left my house.

I walked over to Devin’s car cautiously, knowing that if he was inside, he’d probably be startled by someone coming up. But when I got to the driver side window and brushed away the snow there, I saw that there was no one inside.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath.

Devin couldn’t be stupid enough to walk down the slick rocks near the waterfall while it was snowing, could he?

I knew the answer as soon as I’d asked it, though. I turned on my heel and headed toward the path that led down to the waterfall. It started as a wooded path like any other, but as it got closer to the waterfall, turned into mostly stone.

I stepped carefully, keeping as close to the wall as I could. If I slipped, I could fall onto patches of brush, or worse, if it was near a drop-off. There were plenty of places on the path that were narrow, and one step too far in the wrong direction would mean sliding down a very steep hill.

There were countless reports of people breaking bones when trying to walk down to the waterfall—and a few times, people had even died.

As I went further and further down the path, the light from the parking lot became nonexistent, and the light from the sky diminished. I pulled out my cell phone, using the flashlight to illuminate in front of me, but the snow made it hard to see the ground even with that help.

It only got worse as I got closer to the waterfall. I slipped hard and fell on my side at one point, but luckily I hadn’t hurt myself badly. My hip throbbed as I continued down.

When I reached the low point near the clearing where I’d been with Devin weeks ago, I pointed the flashlight all around the little area. My heart sank.

I didn’t see him there.

There wasn’t really anywhere else he could have gone.

But then, I saw a brief movement on the far side of the clearing. From behind a little jut in the stone, Devin walked out, giving me a hard stare, squinting into the flashlight’s glare.

“If you’re the police, I already know I’m not allowed to be down here at night,” he said. I realized he couldn’t see me at all, probably blinded by the light. His voice was strained as he spoke. “I’ll pay the fine, whatever, I don’t care. Please just let me stay down here.”

I quickly turned the flashlight to face me. “It’s not the police, Dev,” I said.

“Fuck,” I heard him mutter under his breath. I heard footsteps and when I turned the light toward him again, I saw the back of him as he began to walk back up the path, from where I’d come.

“Devin,” I yelled, but he didn’t stop. I followed after, trying hard to watch my step, but he was walking so much faster than me.

When I realized he wasn’t going to stop, I let out a strangled groan. “Devin,” I said louder, “You asked me why I even came back to Rose Falls.”

“It doesn’t matter, Russ,” I heard him call.

I kept walking after him, and I silently thanked God when I found him standing, waiting on a small flat part of the pathway. His arms were crossed and his face in a tense frown, but he was waiting.

I caught my breath as I stopped a few feet away from him.

“Devin—”

“I said, it doesn’t matter,” he repeated. “You shouldn’t have come back, but you did. But now I’m going to go back to living my life how it was before you showed your face here again. It should be easy—I’ve had eight years of practice.”

It felt like a punch to the gut, but I knew full well I deserved it.

“I told you my parents got a summer home in Greentop, didn’t I?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, just shaking his head at me as if to say why does that matter?

“I felt like shit when I told you that I’d visited them every summer for the past eight years. I was only forty minutes away, but I never reached out to anyone I knew from Rose Falls.”

“Maybe that was a good thing,” he said, his voice like acid.

“But I was in Rose Falls, once. Two years ago,” I said, realizing that my hands were shaking. The combination of the cold and my emotions were reeling within me, and my phone felt like it could slip out of my hand at any second. “My parents and I went to the Promenade, even—they wanted to try out one of the new restaurants.”

“Russ, why can’t you leave me alone—”

“I saw you, Devin,” I said. “I saw you that night.”

His eyebrows lifted and I saw his eyes widen for a split second before he let his face fall again.

“You were with a guy, walking down the path outside the restaurant, and you were holding hands.”

“So what? You came here to tell me you not only didn’t contact me for eight years, but you were in town and still didn’t see me?”

“When I saw you with him I felt like I was being cracked open into a million pieces,” I said. “Not because I was jealous, or even because I hadn’t seen you in so long. But… because I felt like no time had passed at all. When I saw you I felt like I could have just walked right out of the restaurant, came up to you, and we could have picked up right where we left off.”

He was silent, eyeing me warily.

“I realized that on that day, it had been six years since I’d seen you last, and yet those six years had been like nothing.”

He was silent.

“I realized then that I wasn’t really living my life, out in California. I was going through the motions… pretending to be okay, but God, I wasn’t.”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“It was such a stark contrast, seeing you, remembering my old life. All at once, I saw how much being without you paled in comparison to being with you.”

“So what,” Devin said, but for the first time, his voice had quieted slightly. It sounded pained, but no longer dripping with confrontation.

“So I fucking had a breakdown, Devin,” I said. “Because a split second after realizing that I’d been living a lie, I realized that you’d probably never forgive me. It took two years after that for me to even get my life to a basic level of what I wanted it to be—coming out, practicing honesty with myself and others—but there was still one more thing I had to make right.”

“You had to move back to Rose Falls and apologize to me,” Devin said, his voice even but firm, “And then watch as I fucked up that friendship you wanted so badly to resume. Russ, I already feel fucking guilty enough, I don’t need more of this.”

“No, Devin,” I said, exasperated. “Don’t you get it?”

“I do get it, yeah. You’re scared I’ll come onto you again, and you’re not interested, so you’re pushing me away.”

I shook my head slowly, though I was unsure if he could even see me in the low light.

“Devin, I’m not scared you’ll come onto me again,” I said quietly.

“Then what is your problem?”

“Don’t you realize I’m scared because I’m so fucking in love with you?”

Tears were falling on my face, now, the cold air biting the resulting streaks on my cheeks. My voice shook, but I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out.

“It’s always been because I’m in love with you, Dev,” I said. “Why we grew apart in college. Why I fucking left Rose Falls in the first place. Why I was too scared to talk to you when I saw you two years ago, why I was so afraid to hang out with you ever since the night of the party.”

I walked a few steps forward, cutting the flashlight out on my phone. The only light now was reflected from the clouds in the sky, but I was close enough to him that I could make out the outlines of his face.

He was staring at me wide-eyed, the glint of tears welling in his eyes.

“Don’t bullshit me, Russ, I swear—” he whispered, shaking his head slightly.

“No,” I said. “This is it. This might be the last time you ever talk to me, but finally—fucking finally, I am telling you the whole truth. I have nothing else to lose.”

“But… you told me you couldn’t see me, told me you had to be away from me—”

“I know you, Devin. I know you don’t want a relationship, know you can’t stand commitment, know you don’t really even feel like dating right now. But when I’m around you, those are the only things I can fucking think of, Dev, and that is so unfair to you I can’t even wrap my head around it.”

“Oh, my God,” he whispered, his voice cracking.

“I’m so, so sorry that I can’t be the friend to you that you want me to be. But this is why. I’m telling you the truth. After the night of the party, when I woke up next to you, the main thing running through my head was that I never wanted to wake up another day of my life without you in my arms. I know it was just a mistake to you, a wild hookup, and that we never should have done it. But I can’t help what my heart feels, and I can’t make mine not love you,” I said.

Immense relief and total adrenaline coursed through me in equal measure. It was a thrill like none other to be telling Devin the truth, even if I knew it may be the last real conversation I was ever able to have with him.

Devin stepped toward me, closing the gap between us, and for a second I worried that I was about to receive a punch in the face. I would deserve it, honestly, after how much I had deceived Devin.

But as he took another step forward he let out a small cry, and suddenly I felt his body come down hard against the side of mine. He had slipped.

He cried out. My cell phone had been knocked from my hand when he’d fallen against me, and I couldn’t find it to turn on the light.

“Devin,” I said, bending down to reach for him. “Are you okay?”

“Shit,” he muttered, and in the low light, I could see as he raised up his arm. “It’s bleeding—fuck, it’s pretty bad—”

“Fuck, Devin, come here,” I said, reaching down around his torso to pull him up in my arms. The motion was awkward, especially on the slippery ground; I had to work to steady myself with someone else in my grasp. “Can you stand up?”

“I think so,” he said, worry in his voice. “Jesus, it hurts so much—”

“I’m going to get you home,” I said. “Are you okay to stand?”

“Yes,” he said, and I gently let him go. He stood on his own, a little wobbly, and for a moment I bent down to search for my phone. I finally felt it, cracked and in a pile of snow, but it still functioned enough to turn on the flashlight and light the way. I wrapped one arm around Devin’s midsection, steadying him.

“I’ve got you,” I said, “We have to get up this path.”

He nodded and as we slowly made our way up, I could feel him growing weaker in my arm.

“Hey,” I said. “Are you still okay?”

“I’m fine,” he said weakly. “I actually think the bleeding is slowing down, but I just—fuck, Russ, this is a lot—”

“I know. We’re so close. We’re almost there. I have a good first aid kit in my car, and I’m going to get you fixed up.”

It felt like forever getting back up to the top of the pathway, but when I could finally make out the glow of the streetlights, I knew we were safe.

“There,” I said, helping him walk the rest of the way over to my truck. I opened it up, helping him onto the passenger side of the cab and then retrieved the first aid kit from the truck bed.

With the help of the light in the cab of the truck, I got to work tending to Devin’s arm. The gash wasn’t pretty—it worked its way down the top part of his forearm in a garish zigzag. But Devin was right that the bleeding had already begun to lessen as we’d walked back. I cleaned it up well, applied ointment and wrapped it in gauze, taking care not to hurt him even more.

“Does that feel okay?” I asked when the job was finished.

He nodded slowly, but his face still looked wrecked. “Russ, I… I…” he trailed off, never completing the sentence.

“It’s okay, Dev. Just rest. I’m going to get you back home.”

“My car…”

“I’ll drive you back tomorrow to get your car.”

He nodded, but something in his eyes had changed as he looked up at me. It was as if he was seeing me in a completely new way. It made sense, given what I had told him and then the trauma to his arm, but it still made me freeze for a moment.

Devin had never really looked at me like he was right then. Almost like he couldn’t believe I was really there.

* * *

I drove us home. He was silent on the way back, and I’d been almost certain he was dozing off, but when I pulled up in front of my house he was perfectly alert.

“We’re here,” I said softly, putting the car in park and looking at him.

He was looking right at me, with that same faraway stare.

“Devin, please tell me you’re alright,” I said.

He nodded, taking in a long breath. “I think so,” he said. “It hurts, but I don’t think it’s anything major.”

I paused, lifting my eyebrows a little. “Not just the arm,” I said. “What about—”

“Can I come inside with you?” he said, cutting me off.

“What?”

He turned away slightly, looking out at the snow. “I can’t be alone right now, Russ. Can I please come inside?”

I blinked at him, slightly shocked. “Uh—yeah, I mean, you can, you saw the state of my house, though, it’s not really—”

“I don’t care,” he said, turning to me with a little sad smile.

“Then, of course, you can,” I said. I opened the driver’s side door of the truck. “Wait a minute, Devin, be careful when you step out. It’s just as slippery here as it was back there.”

He opened the door but waited for me to help him out. I put my arm around his ribs again, helping him along the pathway and then up the stairs to my house. It wasn’t necessary, really—I’m sure he would have been able to walk fine on his own.

But I felt like I needed to help him.

Once we got inside, he sat on the couch, and I hastily gathered stacks of papers and mail, carting them off to the desk in my room. I removed some empty bottles, too, and Devin watched quietly, waiting.

When I finally sat down on the couch next to him, he was running his hand through his hair.

“I’m such an idiot,” he said.

I glanced over at him, turning slightly to face him. “You’re not.”

When he looked up at me I realized he was tearing up, a little. “I am, though,” he continued.

“Why are you saying that? Devin, it’s my fault. You were upset, you went to the waterfall, you slipped. It’s not that stupid. Come here,” I said, reaching my arm out and drawing him in close to me. He finally rested his head against the crook of my shoulder, and I reached to gently stroke his hair.

He let out a long sigh. “You’re so good, Russ.”

“Me?”

“You.”

“Devin… you don’t have to do this,” I said. “You don’t have to… act like this is okay if it isn’t.”

“Act like what is okay?”

My words caught in my throat for a moment. “If—if you’re not okay being friends with someone who is attracted to you, who wants more,” I said. “I… I’ve been trying to get over it, trying to distance myself, but the more I’m around you the harder I fucking fall, Dev.”

He let out a long, shuddering sigh, sinking further into me.

“I know it’s bad. I know it’s not what you want. But it is the truth, and I couldn’t keep it from you any longer. I want you, so badly, and I don’t know if I can ever stop.”

“Russ….”

As my fingers dragged through his soft hair and I felt his warmth against me, I knew it may be the last time I’d ever feel it. It was bittersweet, but I knew this might be goodbye.

“What is it?”

“…You know I love you, too, don’t you?” Devin said.

I paused for a moment, my hand stilling in his hair. “You still do? Even after everything I told you tonight?”

He lifted his head, looking in my eyes. His face was close to mine, and I could feel his gentle breath on me.

His lips were gentle and indulgent as he pressed a kiss to my temple. He then pressed them soft on my cheek, and then a slow, gentle kiss on my lips. When he pulled back I was too stunned to do anything other than stare at him, inches away from my face. “I love you,” he whispered, his hand gathering the fabric at the front of my shirt, pulling it into his fist.

“We shouldn’t,” I said, not even believing my own words.

“Tell me one good reason why we shouldn’t, Russ, and I’ll stop right now.”

“Because… because you said you didn’t want this. Didn’t want a relationship. Didn’t want anything serious, didn’t want to date anyone. But, Dev, I do want those things.”

“You’re right,” he said, “I didn’t want that with anyone else.”

We paused for a moment, our foreheads touching, heat gathering in the space between us.

“Because nobody else is you,” he said.

When he kissed me again it was more urgent. I felt like I was melting as he leaned against me, deepening the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine. I wrapped my arms around his waist, making sure never to touch his bad arm and squeezed him in closer to me. As we kissed I tasted the faintest trace of salt and didn’t know if it was from my tears or his own—it felt like we were falling into one another, wrapped up so close that I couldn’t tell anymore what was my body or what was his own.

I knew him—every inch of him—and nothing felt so natural as having him there in my arms.

When he broke our kiss to take a breath, then leaned back in just as hard to press his mouth to my neck, a long sigh escaped me. With every passing second, I was becoming more overwhelmed, more in disbelief that this could possibly be happening to me. When he brought his lips to my ear and I squeezed my palms against his ass, he shuddered in my ear.

“God, Russ… you’re… you’re fucking perfect,” he whispered.

“Devin, you actually… you want this?”

“I want it more than anything,” he said. “I don’t even know how long I’ve been in love with you, Russ, but… I am.”

“I can’t believe it—how—”

“It’s true.” He pressed his lips to mine again, and I felt like I’d won some cosmic lottery.

It was more than I ever could have hoped for.

I gripped my arms around him, holding him tight, and I stood up from the couch, carrying him against me. He let out a little half yelp, surprised at the sudden movement, but just as soon after he wrapped his legs around me, letting me carry him back to my room. He was being rough with me—a little bit, but in the best way, nipping at my neck and my shoulder and digging his fingers into the sides of my body.

He was becoming as unrestrained as I was, and every little touch from him felt like the best gift I’d ever been given.

He was giving himself to me. And he wanted me. As I sat back down on my bed, his limbs still totally wrapped around me, I could still hardly believe it.

The room was dark other than the low light filtering through the open doorway and the window to the outside, soft light reflecting off the snow. But even in the dim light, I could see his every curve, more importantly, could feel him, his every shudder and tremble rocking me.

His hands twisted in my hair as I gripped the front of his shirt. “These need to come off,” I said, tugging at his clothes, and he obliged. I was worried for a moment that his arm may have made it difficult for him, but he stripped bare in the same amount of time it took me, cornering me and then pressing me up against the wall of my room.

The wall was cold against my back but his skin along my chest and thighs was a flush of warmth. His chest was pressed against mine, both of our cocks heavy and hard between us, sliding against one another.

We had been drunk, fumbling, and clumsy the last time, but this was something completely different altogether.

It was deliberate. And still, it was thrilling, practically unreal, to feel my best friend wanting me in equal measure to how I wanted him.

As he pressed me against the wall his tongue moved lower, exploring the gentle curves on my chest, sliding against my nipple.

I squeezed my fingers against his ass hard enough that he let out a shuddering moan.

“Are you okay?” I said, letting up the pressure slightly, worried that I’d hurt him.

“Don’t you dare fucking stop,” he whispered.

His words urged me on. And I don’t know what came over me, but instead of letting Devin rove over my whole body with his tongue—which of course, I would have loved—I groaned, picking him up again around his waist and laying him flat against my bed.

I straddled him, falling onto my hands and knees above him on the bed and dipping low to kiss him deeply again. I let one hand roam down his body until I reached his cock, taking it in my palm, stroking gently just to tease him.

I began to buck my hips involuntarily, grinding against his thigh, and all of a sudden it was like I was someone else completely—ruled only by one desire: to make him feel good.

When I wrapped my arm around him, feeling his smaller frame in my grip, it sent a throb straight through my cock.

“God, I want to fuck you, Devin,” I whispered, the words coming out of my mouth before I really had thought about them.

I didn’t need to worry, though, because he moaned against me, his cock pulsing in my hand, a small bead of precum leaking out of him.

“Please,” he said. “Please, yes, Russ, I have to feel you inside me.”

There was nothing else I wanted more.