I sat across from Patrice and divulged everything about what Peter and I had done in bed. Maybe I would have spared her the details, but what Skylar said to me had stuck. I’d conquered a demon. I’d taken back what was taken from me.

Patrice was happy for me, proud even, but she talked about highs and lows, and how post-traumatic stress disorder came in ebbs and flows. I listened, I learned, I understood. Even though things were flying at the moment, there would be turbulence. And that didn’t mean failure. It just meant I needed to pilot cautiously.

“Maybe that would explain why I also felt… I don’t know,” I picked at my thumbnail. “Guilty, I suppose.”

“Guilt, for what?”

“For liking it so much.”

“For liking sex?”

I nodded. “Not right after… I think it took me about an hour to come back into my own body.” She chuckled and I shrugged. “But the next day, it was like a creeping feeling. Kinda hard to explain, but that I shouldn’t have enjoyed it so much. You know, all things considered…”

“Survivor’s guilt,” she said with an understanding nod. Then she went on to explain that guilt is a reasonable expectation and something that shouldn’t be brushed aside. “I wish it was as simple as telling you that you shouldn’t feel guilty, but it’s not. It’s a valid emotion, just one we need to address. But I’ll tell you what I think. I think you found someone you have a very deep connection with. A very strong love, and I think it’s wonderful that you feel comfortable enough with him to let your inhibitions go. That’s never an easy task, even for people who haven’t suffered any kind of abuse. So for you to acknowledge this is a good thing. A brave thing.” She tilted her head. “You never had any doubts or anxiety while you were making love?”

My cheeks heated. “None. I can’t explain it very well, but it’s the whole daddy thing.” I blushed some more but pushed on. “It’s like being in a… I don’t want to say cage because that’s not the right word.”

“A bubble?”

“Yeah, a bubble. That he puts me in and nothing on the outside can hurt me. I’m free to be myself and not have a care in the world because I know he’ll take care of me. There’s a freedom in that, for me at least.” I shrugged again, not knowing if I was explaining this properly. “I give him my absolute trust, and he gives me the world. I dunno, it’s hard to explain. I feel so safe with him, like he’ll protect me and make decisions that are only in my best interest because he wants me to be happy. But it’s not restrictive; it’s the opposite. It’s a kind of freedom.”

“Like a father.” Patrice raised her eyebrows and smiled.

“Yes!” Then I made a face. “Just with certain benefits. And without the incest.”

Patrice laughed. “I get it, Yanni.”

“I also met his mother.”

She hid her surprise well. “And how did you feel about that?”

“Peter sprung it on me. In hindsight it was probably a good thing; I had no time to freak out. But she was very welcoming. I was worried she’d take one look at me and say ‘no.’”

“Why?”

“Because I’m half his age.”

“But she didn’t.”

“No. She told me she’d never seen him look so happy.”

Patrice smiled. “So I assume it went well.”

“Yes, I guess.” I chewed my lip. “I’m meeting his friends this weekend.”

“You’re nervous about this?”

“Well, yes! They’re professionals, and I’m a student. And an actor. In LA. I’m a cliché, and they’re all successful and wealthy.” I shrugged. “And I have nothing.”

“It’s a healthy reaction to be nervous. But if they respect Peter, they’ll respect you.”

I frowned and sighed. “And if they don’t? Respect me, that is? I don’t want to come between his friends. He’s known them for longer than I’ve been alive…” My eyes shot to hers. “Oh God. He’s known them longer than I’ve been alive.”

“Yanni,” she said sternly. “You’ll be just fine. You trust Peter not to put you in a situation where you’re not comfortable?”

“Yes.”

“Then trust him. If he believes in you, then maybe you should too.” She smiled. “Be yourself. They’ll love you.”

* * *

Mr Landon picked me up from my appointment with Patrice, like every Wednesday, and we headed back to his place for dinner. I smiled when I saw Andrew’s car parked in the drive―it had been a while since I’d seen him―but I was even more pleasantly surprised when we found Spencer there as well. He was sitting at the kitchen counter with Andrew, talking animatedly to Mrs Landon when we walked in. Something was cooking and it smelled divine.

“Ah, should have known,” Mr Landon joked. “Where there’s food, there’s Andrew.” He threw his arm around his son and gave him half a tackle-hug. Andrew replied with a scissor pinch in his dad’s ribs.

Spencer laughed but took one look at me and broke out in a grin. He leaped off his chair and pulled me into a fierce hug. “My God, look at you!”

“Hey,” I squeaked.

“Oh.” He pulled me back. “You look real good, Yanni.”

Andrew poked Spencer in the back. “Hey.”

Spencer rolled his eyes. “Not that good. But good.”

Andrew gave me a clap on the arm with a warm smile. “Nice to see you again, and yes, Spencer’s right. You look great. Who wants a drink?”

My God, everything with them was always so much fun. Lots of food, lots of talking over each other, and lots of laughter. It was the closest thing to family I had. Not like my roommates were my new friends-family, and not like how Peter was my boyfriend-family, but like with parents-and-brothers kind of family.

Like a real family.

All throughout dinner, and even when our plates were empty, Spencer was very excited about how he and his brother in Sydney were in the early stages of setting up a foundation for at-risk LGBT kids, much like the Acacia Foundation here. Mrs Landon was helping, of course, and she and Spencer were discussing all sorts of details. Spencer had obviously been spending more time at the headquarters with her, and it was something that clearly made Andrew very happy.

“And how about you?” Andrew asked me. “How’s school?”

“Oh, great! We’re just starting prelims for our end-of-year production.” I grinned at Mr Landon. “It’s going to be epic.”

Mr Landon beamed. “Yes, it will.”

“It’s an adaptation of George Orwell’s 1984,” I announced.

“Oooh, like a middle-finger salute to the government,” Spencer added. “I like it.”

Mr Landon laughed and raised his glass of water in a cheers motion. “To the Arts. For keeping it real since the dawn of time.”

We all held up our glasses. “Cheers to that.”

Mrs Landon smiled lovingly at me. “And how’s Peter doing?”

“Oh.” I put my glass down and pretended I wasn’t blushing. “He is so great.”

Spencer’s eyes widened, as did his smile. “Well, look at that,” he said proudly. “My greatest matchmaking accomplishment.”

Andrew cleared his throat. “Pardon?”

Spencer reluctantly added, “Well, okay, you helped.”

“No,” Andrew said, squinting at him. “I meant us. Shouldn’t we be your best, greatest matchmaking accomplishment?”

“Oh, yeah. Us. Definitely.” Spencer shifted in his seat and shot Mrs Landon a look for help.

She held up her hands. “Don’t look at me. I don’t pick sides.”

Mr Landon laughed. “Yeah, you’ll need to dig your own way out on that one.”

Andrew puffed out his chest and raised his chin, and Spencer started searching around the table. “Anyone have a shrimp cocktail handy?”

Everyone laughed because only Spencer would think dying of anaphylaxis was preferable to arguing with Andrew, and Andrew pulled Spencer over so he could kiss the side of his head. They were so in love, and it made me smile to watch them.

“Oh,” Mrs Landon said like she’d just remembered something. “Next month, Yanni, the Acacia Foundation is holding a gala day. Once a year we hit the streets, handing out flyers, cards, posters. You must come! It’s such a wonderful day.”

“I would love to.”

“Bring Peter,” Spencer added. “I’d like to catch up with him again.”

“I will,” I said.

“You should have brought him along tonight,” Andrew added.

“Yes,” Mrs Landon agreed. “We’ll have to have him around for dinner sometime soon, okay?”

I nodded, feeling that warmth flush in my chest. “I’m sure he’d love that.”

And it was funny how crystal clear some things become. Of course, Peter would love it. He’d met them all before, he’d met all my friends, and he’d never even batted an eyelid. Why couldn’t I do that for him? So after Andrew and Spencer dropped me off at home and I was ready for bed, I took my phone and waited for Peter’s silken voice to sound in my ear.

“Hello, you,” he said huskily.

“You sound sleepy,” I noted.

“Sign of old age.”

“Nonsense.” Then I thought of him lying in his bed, all warm and heavy-lidded. “I wish I was there with you.”

He hummed. “Me too. How was your evening?”

“Lovely.” I had to ask him about dinner and the Acacia Foundation gala day, but first I had to ask him something else. “This dinner party with your friends this weekend…”

“Yeah?” He sounded unsure, like he was half expecting me to say I wouldn’t meet his friends.

“What are we going to cook? We need to plan the menu. What are their wives’ names? Does anyone have any dietary requirements? I can swap my Saturday shift so we can spend all day making it perfect.”

There was a smile in his voice. “I love you, Yanni.”

My heart exploded into a gallop. “I love you too.”

* * *

To say I was nervous was an understatement. Everything was cooked, the house was sparkling, fresh flowers sat as a centerpiece on the dining table, and I’d stopped looking at my clothes in the mirror because I was pretty sure I would never look good enough.

Peter stopped me, his hands cupping my jaw. “Stop panicking. You’re perfect.”

Then the doorbell rang. “Oh God.” I took a breath, and Peter kissed my lips. “I’ll pretend I’m busy in here,” I said. “You go let them in.”

He disappeared, and I wondered if they’d notice if I spent the night locked in the bathroom. I heard a round of hellos and a slew of greetings, then a second later, Peter appeared in the kitchen with four smiling faces staring back at me. I tried to smile, but I was sure it was akin to a rabbit in a spotlight.

Peter was quick to stand by my side. “This is Rob and Sharon,” he introduced the first couple. “And this is Mike and Clara.” Then he looked at me. “This is Yanni.”

Mike, a strikingly handsome black man who had to be six foot four, offered me his hand to shake first, then Rob. Rob reminded me of my eighth-grade science teacher, with ruddy skin and graying curly hair and glasses. They both wore button-down shirts and jeans and huge smiles.

Sharon, a curvy woman with blonde hair, went straight for a kiss to my cheek. “So nice to finally meet you,” she said, giving Peter a sly smile.

Then Clara did the same. She reminded me of Jada Pinkett-Smith, beautiful and lucky to be five feet tall. “And something smells fantastic,” she said.

She was holding a bottle of wine. “Here, let me take that for you,” I said, remembering my manners.

“Yanni did most of the cooking,” Peter said. “I hope you like Greek food.”

I shot Peter a look, because what if they didn’t? It was too late now, and the whole night would be ruined―

Clara put her hand on my arm. “Of course we do.”

Peter rubbed my back and smiled at his guests. “Who wants a drink?”

In the beginning, I felt like a kid sitting at the grown-ups table. They talked politics and interest rates and discussed the growth of the Chinese economy and how the Nasdaq was faring.

I sat with my hands in my lap, not touching any of the canapés we’d put out. Peter slid his hand on my knee, making me jump. “Everything okay?” he asked quietly.

Only then did I realize I’d been sitting there waiting for permission to eat. That hadn’t happened in a long time. Wow. I had no idea where that had come from. I thought I was past that… “Yes, of course,” I said, giving him a smile. I shook my head a little and helped myself to a goat cheese and balsamic pastry.

No one else seemed to notice, and if it bothered Peter any, he thankfully let it go. Then they laughed as Mike told about some old friend of theirs who got caught with his pants down in the office supply room, with the CEO’s intern daughter no less, then told stories of their own kids’ funny antics at high school, and they chatted like the very best of friends. It was great to see Peter in his element. These people meant a lot to him, and I could see very clearly around the table that there was warmth and a deep-rooted history here. If there was any truth to the saying “you are the company you keep,” then I was in very good hands. Because his friends were down to earth, smart and funny, and very welcoming, and it somehow made me love Peter just a little bit more.

Peter and I served dinner. Greek-style lamb and potatoes and Greek salad. It had been my idea because I was familiar with how to make it―I’d helped my mother make it a dozen times―but it also showed them a little of who I was.

“Wow,” Rob said. “Yanni, you made this?”

“Peter helped,” I said, deflecting his compliment.

Peter put his arm around my shoulder. “I peeled the potatoes. Not sure that qualifies as ‘helped.’”

Everyone chuckled, then Mike asked a simple yet horrifying question. “So Yanni, tell us about you?”

And I froze. What could I say? Shit. I had to say something. I sipped my mineral water to give myself a second. “I uh, I’m twenty-one.” Good one, idiot. Point out the fact you’re half their age. “My grandparents are from Greece, which explains the food.” Peter took my hand under the table, giving me a reassuring squeeze. Not sure if they wanted that kind of information, but that’s what they got.

“You met Peter over silent films?” Rob asked.

“Uh, yeah. Charlie Chaplin, actually.”

Mike and Rob both groaned. “Who would have thought there would be two guys under the age of one hundred and fifty that like that crap,” Rob said.

Peter rolled his eyes. “Ignore them. They’ve made fun of me for years.”

Mike nudged Rob’s arm. “Remember in college, the year Peter went as Charlie Chaplin for Halloween?”

“How can I forget?” Rob replied with a groan.

I looked at Peter. “You went as Charlie Chaplin? You never told me that.”

“Sure did. And they’re still talking about it, that’s how good I was.”

I chuckled. “You would have looked awesome.”

He gave me an eye-crinkling smile. “Thank you. Though I’ll leave the acting up to you.”

“Yes,” Sharon said. “Peter tells us you’re an actor.”

“Well, I’m studying at LASPA, second year.”

“I’ve heard good things about that school,” Clara said. “Isn’t that where Jevon Tibbet went?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I believe so.”

Peter smiled proudly. “Tell them what play you’re working on?”

I looked at him. Of course I’d told Peter all about it, but I wasn’t sure anyone else would be too interested. “Um, we’re doing an adaptation of George Orwell’s 1984.”

The four of them grinned. “Hell yeah!” Mike clapped.

“Never has dystopian and social science fiction been more relevant,” Rob added seriously.

“Yeah, fuck the authoritarian assholes!” Sharon said.

Clara gave her a high five. “Amen, sister.”

I laughed, remembering a very similar conversation around the Landons’ dining table. And I realized right then and there that maybe I wasn’t too different from these people after all.

I held up my glass of mineral water. “I’ll drink to that.”

* * *

Later that night, when everyone had gone home and Peter and I had cleaned up, we crawled into bed, exhausted but happy.

Peter had on his usual sleep pants, sans shirt, and I wore underpants with the purple silk gown he’d given me, even if there would be no love making tonight. It still made me feel special. I snuggled into my most favorite place in the world: the crook of his arm with my head on his chest and his arms tight around me.

“Your friends are awesome,” I said.

“They loved you. Seriously, after that dessert you made, I think Sharon and Clara want to marry you.”

It was a simple tart with apple slices, cinnamon, and honey drizzle on a store-bought pastry served with a dollop of Greek yogurt. It was hardly fancy, but that wasn’t the point. “Too late. I’m taken.”

Peter chuckled and kissed my head. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

* * *

So the next four weeks fell into what had become my routine. School, work, hanging out with my roommates during the week, spending weekends with Peter. And there was a lot to be said about routine. There was a sense of normalcy, but a sense of security also.

I’d somehow managed, after everything I’d been through, to build myself a bubble of complacency.

That was until the Acacia Foundation gala weekend.

I’d been so excited to help out. I’d organized to take the weekend off work so I could spend every minute doing whatever the Landons needed to be done. Myself, Peter, Jordan and Skylar, and George and Ajit were all there, ready to get started.

Spencer and Andrew, and Sarah, and Lola and Emilio―who I didn’t exactly remember but was re-introduced to―were there too, with Mrs Landon in full boss mode, and Mr Landon at her side.

Even with the early morning start, I was pumped and excited, and I just loved that Peter was here with me. He understood my need to pay forward all the help I’d been given. I couldn’t change the fact I’d once been homeless, I’d once lived rough. It was a part of my past, of who I was, and what made me the man I was today, and Peter got that.

There were hundreds of people, all ages, all races, all religions, all there to help, and it felt so good to be a part of something positive. We were an army, all decked out in the Foundation’s bright green T-shirts, armed with information brochures, pamphlets, cards, flyers, and posters. It was going to be fun and rewarding, and I was buzzing.

We hit the streets. The weather was a perfect winter’s day in LA, and our first stop was Skid Row. It was where the majority of homeless LGBT folk ended up. It was where I ended up, so it made sense to go there.

But I wasn’t prepared for the memories. I wasn’t prepared for the dirt and grime or the smell. And despite all of that, it was vacant eyes, the hopelessness, the lost and broken souls that got me.

By ten o’clock, I found myself sitting on some steps next to a kid―he couldn’t have been more than sixteen―named Collin. If that was his real name or not, I didn’t know. I doubted it. He was just skin and bone, with dirty, red hair flopped down into his eyes, his pale skin grimy, and had what looked like a faded bruised eye. His filthy clothes might have fit him once, but they swam on him now, and I asked him when the last time he ate was.

“I do all right,” he said, shrugging me off without answering.

“How long have you been here?” I asked.

His eyes hardened. “A year.”

Jesus. I swallowed hard, and it took me a little while before I could speak. “I used to sleep at the Union,” I said quietly. “If I could get a bed.”

Collin’s eyes shot to mine before he looked away. “You were here?”

I nodded.

“How’d you get out?”

“With the help of some very good people.” I handed him a flyer. He snorted like it was something funny or maybe like a joke that wasn’t funny at all. “It’s not a religion, if that’s what you’re worried about. They just help people. There’s no catch. You just have to want to help yourself, that’s it. Nothing else.”

“Yeah, well,” he said, stuffing the flyer into his pocket. “Like I said, I do all right.”

I nodded slowly. He’d been here a year and was still alive, so that meant he could look after himself. “Yeah, you do. Think about it anyway. They can get you a place to live, a job, school, whatever. And they’re holding a soup kitchen tonight at the Mission, if you’re in the area. Free food.”

He never replied, so I stood up, and with each step away, I blinked back tears.

And the next kid after that. And the one after that. And the older lady who wore rainbow feathers in her hair who deserved more human decency than the world had given her, and the girl with scars on one arm, track marks on the other, with hollow eyes and chapped lips.

By the time we were supposed to meet back at the Los Angeles Mission to help out at the soup kitchen, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The second I saw Mrs Landon, I burst into tears and ran into her arms.

“Oh, Yanni,” she cooed, patting my hair and rocking me a little. “It’s hard, I know.” I couldn’t even speak. I didn’t need to explain myself. She’d been where I’d been. She understood.

“I want to help them all,” I mumbled.

“I know you do.” She pulled back, and keeping her hands on my shoulders, she said, “You know who’s here? Tyler. The guy you helped who reported Lance? He’s here helping out. He’s doing well because of you.” She smiled, then scanned the huge hall-like room. “There he is.”

I looked over, and sure enough, there was the blond guy I’d visited in the hospital after Lance had beaten him.

Mrs Landon called out to him, and as soon as he saw me, he broke out into a smile and made his way over. He greeted me with a hug. “I was hoping I’d see you here,” he said.

He looked good, healthier, like he’d eaten properly, and all his bruises were long gone. His clothes were clean, his hair cut and washed. I wiped my face. “Sorry, been a hard day.”

Tyler nodded. “Yeah, I get that. Hey, I wanted to thank you,” he said. “For everything you did. Helen’s team was great.”

Mrs Landon was now talking to Peter, their heads together, though she looked up and smiled at us.

“Yeah, they’re the best,” I agreed. I let out a deep breath. “Man, today’s been rough.”

Tyler smiled sadly. “But it feels good, yeah?”

“Yeah, it does. But also kinda helpless. Like it’s overwhelming. I want to help all of them.”

He nodded sympathetically. “Hey, I got a job,” he said, brightening. “It’s just at a grocery store. Nothing too exciting, but it’s my own money. And I start business school at the community college next semester.”

“That’s awesome!” I told him.

“Yeah, it is.” He smiled, but it soon faded. “Hey, have you heard any more on Fuckface?”

I assumed Fuckface was Lance. “No, I haven’t. Mrs Landon had all the report numbers and they were gonna let her know when or if anything came of it.”

Tyler nodded. “Well, fingers crossed, huh?”

“Yeah, for sure. Hey, do you have a phone? If I hear anything, I’ll let you know.”

He grinned and fished a phone out of his pocket. “Yeah.” We exchanged numbers. “And I can let you know how school goes, you know, if you want.”

“I’d really like that.”

He eyed Peter for a second, then gave me a raised eyebrow. “Your old man’s a fox.”

I chuckled and swatted his arm. “He is, and he’s all mine. So eyes off.”

Tyler laughed me off. “Oh, don’t worry. I’ve sworn off everything until I get my shit together. If I fail school, I could always try the priesthood.”

I laughed at that, and Tyler said goodbye and went back to the group he was with. Peter came over, slid his arm around my waist and nodded toward the door. “Look.”

A familiar mop of red hair came in, scanning the room like a kid ready to bolt. “Collin,” I called out, making my way over to him. “Come on in. They’re just about to start serving dinner.”

He immediately played it cool, stuffing his hands in his pockets and looking around. “Thought I’d check it out, ya know.”

“For sure,” I said, trying not to smile too hard. “Hey, there’s someone I’d like you to meet.” I shot a look back toward the kitchen, where Mrs Landon had wandered off to, and I caught her attention. I knew she was flat-out swamped, but I also knew she’d give me a minute. “This is Mrs Landon,” I said. “And this is Collin. I met him earlier today and told him to come here tonight.”

Mrs Landon beamed at him. “Well, I’m very glad you did, Collin.”

Then I saw another face in the kitchen. He had a hairnet on and paper apron, but his beard and tattoos were unmistakable. “Collin, you know how you asked me how I got off the streets? Well, that guy through there”—I pointed to Spencer—“he took me to meet Mrs Landon.”

She put her arm around him. “Now, dinner is five minutes away, but first there are some people I’d love you to meet,” she said, leading him off to a group of people who I knew to be caseworkers for the Foundation.

Peter put his hand on my back, and I turned to him, giving him a teary smile. He pulled me in for a hug. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispered into my hair.

I didn’t trust myself to speak, so I held him as tightly as I could instead.

“Are you okay, love?” he asked. “It’s been an emotional day.”

My eyes burned with unshed tears. “I’m okay. Exhausted but good.”

“Want to go home?”

“I think I should stay and help serve dinner,” I said with a shrug. “Or something.”

He simply nodded and smiled. “Okay.”

“If you want to go home, I can catch a cab later.”

He kissed my forehead. “There’s no place I’d rather be.”

I kissed him right on the lips, not caring who saw. “Thank you.” Then I quickly called Jordan to see how they’d gotten along, but after a long day, the four of them were safely on a bus homeward bound. I reminded her that I was staying at Peter’s and our usual laundry date would have to be postponed because I’d be back at the Mission in the morning. She told me she’d see me there. So, for the next two hours, we served stew with rice or mashed potatoes, until the last person had eaten. Then we helped clean up, right alongside Andrew and Spencer.

When all was said and done, I fell into a seat next to the others with a grunt. “Long day, huh?” Spencer said.

“Yeah.” I looked at Andrew and Sarah. “You guys help out every year?”

Sarah nodded. “Keeps it real,” Andrew said.

“Yeah, it sure does,” I agreed.

Mrs Landon pulled her hairnet off and sagged into her seat. Peter and Mr Landon were slumped in theirs. The three of them looked more exhausted than I felt. Slowly, I got to my feet. “I better get this man home,” I said, holding out my hand to Peter. He’d been with me every step of the way without one word of complaint all day.

He stood up wearily. “And we’re back tomorrow to do it all again.”

“Thank you,” Mrs Landon said, her tone heartfelt.

“It’s been a pleasure,” he answered. Then he amended, “An eye-opening, heart-wrenching pleasure.”

Everyone nodded in agreement. “See you all in the morning,” I said, waving them off.

The cab ride home was quiet. We sat in the backseat, my head on his shoulder and his arm around me. We both needed a little time to decompress and let our thoughts and emotions settle.

When we walked into Peter’s place, he slid his keys and wallet onto the kitchen counter. “You hungry?”

After working with all that food, I really wasn’t. “No.”

Peter scrubbed his hands over his face. “Me either. I need a shower, though.”

“Me too.”

Even washing away the dirt and grime of the day didn’t lift the heaviness of our hearts. We showered together and helped wash each other’s hair and bodies with loving hands and tender touches. We dried off, and Peter got dressed into his usual sleep pants, I wore briefs with my silk gown, and I crawled into his arms in bed, with my head on his chest and his arms around me.

“You were so good today,” I said after a long while. “I couldn’t have gotten through it without you.”

He kissed my forehead. “And you were amazing today.”

“I wasn’t prepared for how hard it was going to be,” I admitted. “I used to live like that. I was one of them.”

He squeezed me and nuzzled into my hair. He said nothing, somehow sensing I needed to talk.

“And look at me now. In such a short amount of time, I have everything I ever could’ve wanted.” I let out a sad sigh. “I’m not gloating. Just the opposite, actually. Because I wouldn’t have anything if it weren’t for Spencer and Andrew or Mr and Mrs Landon. Or you.”

“Oh, my sweet boy. You have everything you do because you’ve worked hard for it. You go to school full time, you work twenty-something hours a week, and go to therapy. You’re a good friend to your roommates, and believe me, when it comes to us, I’m the lucky one.”

I snuggled into his hairy chest. “I don’t ever want to get complacent. I don’t ever want to take any of it for granted. I’m so thankful. I really am. And I’m sorry if I don’t tell you enough.”

“You don’t have to apologize, my love.” Peter kissed the top of my head. “Today was heartbreaking. Not just for the kids on the street. But for you too. It was hard to watch you struggling. I think we all take some things for granted. Today was a good reminder, huh?”

“You know they’re out there right now, in the cold, in alleys, taking drugs, selling their bodies, trying to sleep without being attacked, robbed.” A cold shiver ran through me. “You know I slept with my bag in my bed with me, even after I moved into my new house. I still sleep with the light on.” I felt ashamed to admit that.

“You don’t need the light on when you’re here,” he murmured.

“No, because I have you.”

Peter pulled the blankets up and tucked me into his chest so I was wrapped up safe and sound. I closed my eyes and felt sleep taking me. “And you always will,” he whispered. “Always.”

* * *

The next morning, we arrived at the Acacia headquarters just after nine to find everybody already in full swing. I found Mrs Landon going through boxes of flyers. “Sorry we’re a little late,” I said. “I had to make a stop. I’ve ordered three hundred dollars’ worth of sandwiches to be delivered here before lunchtime.”

Mrs Landon stared at me, then Peter. He put his hands up. “I offered to help pay, but he refused.”

“I wanted to do it. I had to do something,” I said quickly. “To pay back, or pay it forward, or just put good karma out into the universe. I couldn’t help but think of all the people who didn’t eat last night, and I had some money saved. I’ve been working a lot, and I figure some folks might be more inclined to hear what we have to say if it comes with half a sub.”

Mrs Landon dropped her handful of flyers back into the box and crushed me in a teary hug. “You are such a sweet boy,” she said. “You make me such a proud momma.”

And that right there was worth every penny I spent on sandwiches. She called herself my momma and said I made her proud. It squeezed my heart until my eyes welled with tears. “I promised myself no crying today.”

Mrs Landon laughed, trying to dry her eyes. “Good luck with that.”

We helped her sort the flyers, and soon Jordan and Skylar were there. “George sends his apologies. He’s having lunch today with Ajit’s family,” Skylar said. We all knew that George and Ajit weren’t giving up on their hopes of Ajit’s mother’s acceptance, so a lunch sounded promising.

“God, I hope it goes well,” I said.

“Me too,” Jordan said. She looked around the bustling room. “So, where do we start?”

Peter held up a rather large box. He was sorting female sanitary products to give to homeless girls and women. He didn’t even bat an eyelid when he was given the task, but there were a lot of boxes to get through. “You can help me sort these into bags.”

I smiled as the three of them worked together and continued helping Mrs Landon sort flyers. Just before we were ready to hit the streets, the delivery of sandwiches arrived, then another two. I looked at Mrs Landon, who just shrugged. “It was a great idea.”

So we headed back out onto the streets, handing out flyers and food, meeting and talking to some pretty incredible, resilient people, whose only “crime” was being attracted to the same sex.

I was better prepared for it now. Their stories still broke my heart, their circumstances so close to my own. I was one of the lucky ones. I knew it, and so help me God, I’d never forget it.

“I just want them to see there’s hope,” I said to Peter as we walked back to headquarters. “It doesn’t have to be the end.”

Peter let go of my hand so he could put his arm around me. “I think you’re an inspiration,” he said, kissing the side of my head. “I’m pretty sure they see you and see what they can become.”

Well, I didn’t know about that, but I hoped it was true.

We arrived back just before dinner was ready to be served to the masses, so Peter and I helped out as best we could. So many people from all walks of life came in to eat, so grateful, it made my heart full.

Toward the end of the night, I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. I was cleaning down tables and collecting used trays when an argument broke out between two men over turf they each claimed as their own.

They both got to their feet, their chairs scraping on the floor, tumbling over, and they grabbed at each other, yelling and trying to punch. It was loud, and people came running to separate them. I was right there. Right in the middle of it.

Peter came running for me, but I noticed a kid, no more than five, watching on in horror, his hands covering his ears. He got jostled, stumbled backward, and almost fell, but I caught him just as a table was upended. I picked him up and carried him to the far wall, out of harm’s way, and cuddled him as he started to cry.

His mom was soon there, taking him, thanking me warily. She’d just gone to get him another bread roll, she’d said. She was just gone a second.

“It’s okay,” I told her. “He’s fine now.”

“Thank you.” She took him and cradled him, and I stood there trying to get my heart rate down.

Jesus. My adrenaline was pumping. My heart was hammering.

Peter’s eyes were wide, and he crushed me against him. “Are you okay?” he asked.

I nodded and let out a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

The fight was over, both men escorted out, and the room was returning to normal, though I kept my back to the tables being reset, like it protected me, or maybe it was facing Peter that protected me. Mr Landon came over to us, putting his hand on my shoulder. “Everything okay here?” he asked.

“Yeah,” I answered, pulling out of Peter’s arms. “Just an adrenaline rush.”

“You did real good,” Mr Landon said. “Getting that kid out of there.”

“You really did,” Peter said proudly.

The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and my hands began to shake and my eyes started to well with tears. “I still didn’t like it,” I said lamely. Peter pulled me against him again.

“How about you call it a day,” Mr Landon said. “We’re just about done here. We’ve only got clean up to do and we’re done.”

Peter rubbed my back. “Want to go home? Or want to stay?”

I glanced around, and Mr Landon was right. It was almost all over, and weariness was starting to settle in. “Home.”

We said our goodbyes, and Mrs Landon promised to organize a dinner for us as a thanks for our hard work. I got hugs from Spencer and Andrew, told them we’d see them again soon, and Peter and I headed home.

“My place or yours?” he asked as we climbed into a cab.

“God, your place, please.” I wanted to climb into his lap on the sofa and didn’t think my roommates would appreciate the show. Jordan and Skylar had gone home during the afternoon and were no doubt planted in front of the TV, and with a bit of luck, cuddled up together. I wondered how George and Ajit’s day turned out…

“You okay?” Peter asked.

I was leaning into him, his arm over my shoulder. “Yeah. Today was better, except for that fight at the end.”

He rubbed my arm. “You really did save that little boy from getting knocked over, you know. He could have been hurt. You could have been hurt.”

“I reacted without thinking.”

“That’s what makes it even better.” He kissed the side of my head. “You’ve come a long way. Remember six months ago when that man was yelling in the coffee shop and you froze?”

I nodded. I remembered, all right. I panicked and freaked the hell out. “Yeah.”

“You didn’t freeze today. You saved that little kid from getting hurt, without any thought to your own safety. I think it proves just how far you’ve come.”

I looked up at him to see nothing but pride in his eyes. “I guess I did. I still didn’t like it, though. It still scares me.”

I put my head back on his shoulder and he gave me a squeeze. “I know it does.”

After a while, I broke the silence. “Peter?”

“Yeah?”

“Just so you know, when we get home, even though I’m tired as hell, I’m going to climb you like a tree.”

He chuckled. “Is that right?”

“Yep. Hot shower first, then there will be tree climbing. And I might even let you order in Chinese food afterward.”

“Sounds good.”

“Which part? The food or the tree climbing?

Peter lifted my chin and planted a hard kiss on my lips. “You, on me, will win every time.”

A rush of warmth bloomed through me, at his tone, his touch. Oh yes, there would be tree climbing tonight.