Gage lay on his back in one of Aaron’s old t-shirts and nothing more. The room was kept at a perfect temperature—every now and then, the heat clicked on to chase away the remnants of a chilly September night. Gage listened to its hum, attempting to focus on it to shut off his mind, but it was no use. No matter what he tried, he couldn’t settle.

For a long time, he’d thought that he was doing right by Aaron by keeping him from the truth. Love and fear had shut down logic. The wellbeing of their child had been put into jeopardy because Gage had been too stubborn to take action like he needed to. No matter how well-meaning his intentions were, he’d made a mistake.

A mistake that might have cost Bo his life, if Aaron hadn’t come home and set everything back into motion.

It was too heavy a burden to sleep away. If Gage ever wanted to rest, he had to get it off his chest.

“Aaron?” His voice joined the hum of the furnace. “Are you awake?”

“Yes.” Aaron rolled over so he was on his side, facing Gage. Gage continued to stare at the ceiling, too guilty to look his way. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” A nervous smile twitched one corner of Gage’s lips upward. “Really?”

Aaron draped an arm over his chest and pulled himself close. He was naked, the touch of his skin a delight against Gage’s side. “I meant what in particular about everything that’s gone on is bothering you? I’m here to listen. If you want to talk about what happened between us earlier tonight, I’m ready to do that, too.”

Gage closed his eyes. Sometimes, reality was too hard to face head-on, even if all he was doing was staring at the ceiling. “I wanted to tell you I’m sorry for what I did.”

Silence.

“I was selfish,” Gage said at last. “I thought that I was doing a good thing by respecting the promise I made you… but I put Bo in danger, and I made us suffer unnecessarily. I wanted to prove that I loved you, and that I could be strong for you, but all that time, I was thinking of myself as a lover instead of myself as a father and a guardian of a young man who needed me more than you did. It was wrong of me, and I’m sorry that I did it. If I’d just come out and said something, Bo could have been…”

“Hey.” Aaron kissed his cheek. When he spoke, his voice was a soft utterance against Gage’s ear. “You did the best you could.”

“No, I didn’t.” Gage had thought he had no more tears left to cry, but he proved himself wrong. They streaked his cheeks like war paint and tumbled into the dip of Gage’s ear. “All I did was make more and more of a mess. Mistake after mistake. It wouldn’t have been so bad if it was only me who had to suffer through them, but I made Bo suffer, too. I love him. I love him more than I love myself, but I still couldn’t sacrifice what I needed to in order to keep him healthy. I made him suffer with me. I don’t know how I can ever ask him to forgive me.”

“You don’t,” Aaron replied. The words were deceptively simple, and Gage’s mind twisted them, assuming their worst meaning. “All you can do now is accept that the past is the past. There’s no changing what’s happened. Just like I can’t go back in time and tell myself not to go to Munich—that you needed me here more than you needed me in the lab—you can’t go back and undo what’s been done, either. The important thing is that you see where you went wrong, and you learn from it. Growth is about failure, BP. Every mistake you make teaches you something. If I told you how many times I made a hypothesis that turned out not to hold any water, you’d wonder if I really was a scientist. But I am. A mistake is often more useful than a solution—it illustrates the rules of what something isn’t. Do you know what I hear when you tell me about all the mistakes you’ve made, and how much you regret them?”

“No,” Gage said miserably. Aaron was so smart when it came to so many things, but Gage got the impression that no matter how confidently he spoke, he had no idea what he was talking about now. “I don’t understand how science relates to me being a moron.”

Aaron chuckled. He kissed Gage’s cheek again. “When I hear you talking about your mistakes like that, it shows me the kind of person you aren’t.”

“So?” Gage brushed the tears from his cheeks. “What does that matter?”

“It shows me that you’re not someone who’s going to let those mistakes happen again. You’ve defined your rules of who you aren’t, and now you’re discovering who you are.”

Heat spread across Gage’s cheeks and straight into his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut to try to chase fresh tears away, but they slid down his scorched cheeks regardless. Like Aaron had popped the cork on a bottle of champagne, Gage’s thoughts spilled out from within him, bubbling and all too hasty to escape. “I’m sorry about Bo, and I’m sorry about camming, and I’m sorry about Knot.”

“I know you are,” Aaron whispered in return. There wasn’t a hint of malice in his voice. “And I’m sorry for the way I jumped to conclusions and let my emotions get the best of me.”

“I don’t love him,” Gage uttered. He had no idea what Aaron thought, but he needed to set him straight. “I never loved him. He was my friend, and I let him know it whenever he tried to come onto me. But he has insurance, and he was willing to marry me so that I could make Bo healthy, so I had to do it. You weren’t coming home, and Bo was getting sicker, and I was an idiot and thought I had no other options.”

“Gage?” Aaron’s fingers traced along his jaw. “I forgive you.”

It was said that there were three words in the English language that, when spoken in succession, everyone wanted to hear. Three words that changed lives and filled hearts. In that moment, filled with self-hatred and regret, the three words Aaron had spoken were more precious to Gage than any other.

I forgive you.

In those words, Gage’s guilt was alleviated. He would always carry it with him, whether it weighed in the back of his mind or anchored his heart in melancholy, but to know that Aaron could forgive him for what he’d done meant so much more than simply knowing that he was loved.

Love was easy. Love happened when it was least expected, and struck hearts at the most inopportune times.

Forgiveness was found and given. Forgiveness was an effort.

It was something Gage would never take for granted again.

Tears fell more plentifully than before. They soaked the pillowcase behind Gage’s head and left his skin damp. His sinuses emptied, and he sniffled. Through it all, Aaron was there to hold him and whisper soft, sweet things in his ear that Gage felt he didn’t deserve.

“You are worthy,” Aaron whispered. “You’ve tried so hard for so long, it’s okay to cry. It’s okay to let all of it go. We are reflections of our past, but our current selves are the basis for our future. You don’t have to let who you were define you. Neither of us do. I want to keep growing you with forever, Gage. I never want us to lose sight of everything that could be.”

Unwilling to remain on his back, disengaged from Aaron, Gage rolled onto his side and tucked his head against Aaron’s chest, wrapping his arms around him to hold himself close.

“I forgive you, too,” Gage whispered, hoping that Aaron could hear it. “I forgive you for leaving. I forgive you for being away. I forgive you for being angry about Knot. It’s over now. All of it is over now. We’re going to be okay.”

“And we’re going to make sure that Bo is going to be okay, too.” Aaron stroked his back, following the curve of Gage’s spine. His touch was a comfort made even more soothing by the words he spoke. “I’m back now. I’m going to take care of you. I promise. I love you more than you could ever know, just like I love Bo, and just like I will any other children you bless me with. And all of this? Everything we’ve been through since I came back to America? It proves to me that what I thought all along was true.”

“What was it that you thought?” Gage asked in a small voice.

Aaron pulled away from him then, leaving Gage confused. The bed dipped as Aaron shifted his weight and leaned over the side of the bed. It appeared he was reaching for something—what, Gage couldn’t tell. When he pulled himself back onto the bed, there was something clutched in his hand. Gage looked from his curled fingers to Aaron’s face, seeking answers.

Aaron didn’t speak. He simply opened his hand.

Gage understood.

There, on Aaron’s palm, was a ring. It was of simple design and made of a polished black metal that drew the eye. A pattern had been carved neatly down the center of the band, not garish or overstated, but not subtle enough that it was unremarkable.

“I got it in Germany, before I left,” Aaron told him, “because I was sure that how I felt about you when I left for Munich, and how I continued to feel about you while I was away, wouldn’t change when I came home. And I was right. I love you, Gage. I’ve worked hard for us, and I know you’ve done the same. I want to keep making mistakes with you. I want to be there to watch you and our family grow. Will you marry me and let that happen? I want to make you happy for the rest of our lives.”

In the house that had once been his playground, where cardinals came to nest every year, and where he had first met the man he would love forever, Gage said yes.

Outside the bedroom window, birds sang to greet the rising sun. Aaron slipped the ring on Gage’s finger. The kiss they shared in the moment that followed was sweet, but charged with meaning. Gage understood what it meant, and he let that understanding seep into his soul.

Aaron had pledged his life to him, and to their family. They would never be divided again.