Soon enough, it was Valentine’s Day, not that Mallory and I actively remembered. It was the television commercials that gave it away.

We’d been watching the hockey game the night before when a jewelry commercial played between periods, letting us both know that the following day was Valentine’s Day.

Mallory had said, “Want to zip on over to the grocery store tomorrow and make dinner? We can celebrate our bachelorhood.”

I’d grinned. “Sure.”

So that was where we found ourselves at around two in the afternoon on Valentine’s Day.

The grocery store was busier than most other days around that time. Not surprising, given this was one of two grocery stores in town and by far the largest. Couples were pushing carts up and down the aisles, holding hands, chatting about wine pairings and desserts.

Mallory pushed the cart since my arm was still in a sling. He leaned his large forearms against the handle, moving forward as we made our way down the aisles.

It was all strangely, unsettlingly domestic.

“All right, Archer,” Mallory said as we came to the bakery section of the store. “What’re we having for dinner?”

I pulled the handwritten list out of my back pocket and began reading off ingredients we’d need for the stir-fry. Carrots, broccoli, baby corn, along with a long list of spices, most of which Mallory already owned.

Some romantic ballad was playing through the speakers as Mallory and I stood side by side, examining the different cans of water chestnuts. After deciding on a can, even though all varieties looked pretty much identical to us, we carried on.

“Want to try chicken or beef for the stir fry?”

Mallory shrugged. “Whichever.”

“Or maybe we can try tofu?” I asked, teasing. Mallory didn’t exactly strike me as the tofu-eating type.

Again, he shrugged. “Sure.”

“Really?”

He looked at me out of the corner of his eye, the smile on his face teasing. “Whatever makes you happy, Archer.”

Just as I was on the brink of saying something stupid in response to that, someone down the aisle called Mallory’s name. We both turned to look toward the owner of the voice.

A woman walked toward us with a wide grin on her face and a bit of a skip in her step. She had dark brown hair and almond-shaped eyes. She looked to be around Mallory’s age but was shorter than both of us and seemed to smile much more easily.

“Mallory! I thought that was you,” she said, coming to a stop in front of us. Her attention momentarily darted toward me, then back to him.

“Sarah,” Mallory replied, standing up straight. There was a hint of pleasure in his voice and a softness to his face. “For such a small town, I feel like I haven’t seen you in ages.”

She laughed. “Well, you don’t exactly go out and about very much. Always trapped in that workshop of yours.”

“Archer,” Mallory said, first gesturing toward me and then to Sarah. “This is Sarah. Sarah, this is Archer. He’s a friend of Danny’s.”

“I’d shake your hand,” I offered, pointing my left hand to my right one still in a sling.

She smiled kindly. “It’s nice to meet you, Archer. I’m an old friend of Mallory and Sophia’s. Is Danny here with you guys?”

“Uh, no,” said Mallory. “Just me and Archer. Danny’s still back at school. Archer’s staying with me a while during his recovery.”

She nodded at us. “Oh, well that’s nice of you. You’ve always been such a mother hen. So… you two boys out grocery shopping on Valentine’s Day?”

“Yeah. Thought we’d make a stir-fry for dinner to celebrate being lonely old bachelors. Well, old for me, not so much for Archer here.”

Slowly, I turned to look at his profile. He was still looking at Sarah, smiling easily.

That was a thing Mallory did. One of the few things I almost couldn’t take. He’d bring up the difference in our ages often, almost like it was a cavernous trench between us that neither could cross but both could see.

I didn’t want to see it.

Sarah lifted the basket on her arm. “Yep, I know that feeling. My divorce papers went through last year around this time, so I’m planning to eat some macaroni and cheese while downing a bottle of wine.”

Mallory winced. “Sorry to hear about you and Ray. Sophia always did say he wasn’t good enough for you.”

“Sophia was the smarter one of us both. Ray was a jackass, I was just too in love to acknowledge it.” Her smile immediately became sadder. “I miss her.”

In reply, he nodded. “Me too.”

“Listen, Mallory,” she said shyly, shifting from one foot to another. “Would you like to get a drink together some time?”

There was a pause. And during that pause, for the hundredth time since I’d met Mallory, I was struck through the heart.

I couldn’t look at him. My gaze latched onto the aisle sign stating we were in the right place for canned vegetables and soup.

Obviously noticing the silence, Sarah immediately added, “Even as friends, if that’s what you want. I miss seeing you. We all used to get together often, and it was so much fun. Before everything went to shit, at least.”

“Okay,” Mallory said slowly. “I’d like that.”

They exchanged numbers—Sarah having stated she changed her number after the divorce—and soon Mallory and I were alone, pushing the shopping cart around the store.

Neither of us said anything.

---

“Hey, old man,” Danny said, wrapping his arms around Mallory and slapping him on the back.

“Hey, kid,” Mallory replied. “Keeping out of trouble?”

“Absolutely not. Where’s the fun in that?”

Then Danny looked over Mallory’s shoulder and down the hallway to where I stood awkwardly. “Hey, Ace.”

“Hi, Danny.”

He came right up to me and pulled me into a massive hug. “I’ve missed you.”

I put my good arm around his shoulders and squeezed. “Me too.”

And I had.

Danny not speaking with me had felt like losing a limb. I’d always appreciated Danny’s friendship but never more than the past few weeks without him. I hadn’t fully realized how much sunshine he brought into my world until it was taken away.

“Listen—” I began.

Danny cut me off. “Nah, not now, Ace. We’ll talk about it later. I’m just happy to see you both.”

He pulled away and looked both Mallory and me over. Mallory had moved to stand next to me.

“You guys look great,” he said. “I’m surprised. I thought leaving you two alone together would cause some kind of emotional black hole in the mountains of Banff.”

“Funny,” I said.

“How’s the knee?”

“Sore. Stiff. But good. Healing quickly.”

I was thankful Danny didn’t ask me about my arm.

Mallory grabbed Danny’s bags and took them upstairs to his room. We went to sit in the living room on opposite couches. Danny leaned toward me, arms on his knees, and asked, “How are you two doing? Really?”

“Good. Great.”

He looked toward the hallway and then at me. “What’s it like living with him?”

Brow furrowed, I asked, “What do you mean?”

“Nothing. Not like that. He seems different, is all. Happier. More like the person he used to be before Mom died.”

I couldn’t help but smile at that. “Good. He deserves to be happy.”

“Yeah, he does. You do too.”

Behind Danny’s head, I looked out into the evening sky. The sun had already begun skittering behind the skyline, leaving the warm hues of orange and red in its wake.

Mallory eventually came back into the living room and, surprisingly, sat on the couch next to me.

Danny grinned at us and stretched his arms across the back of the sofa. “So, what have I missed? What’s new?”

“Well,” Mallory said, “Archer’s becoming less of a shitty cook.”

“Hey!” I punched his bicep and he laughed.

“It’s a compliment! Except you’re still pretty terrible at cutting vegetables.”

I gestured toward my right arm. “You try cutting anything with your left hand and see if you’re good at it.”

“I am good at it. Carpenter, remember? I’m good with my hands—both of them.”

An image shoved its way into my mind. I consciously had to force my brain to expel it.

“Maybe,” I said. “But you’re still crap at puzzles. And really, who can be bad at puzzles?”

Mallory laughed and tossed his arm along the back of the couch, almost so his hand was behind my shoulder. “Archer found this old box of puzzles in the hall closet,” he told Danny. “I think they belonged to your grandmother. Now we do puzzles every night. Well, Archer does puzzles and I try to not get in his way.”

“You’re not that bad.”

“Some people just aren’t meant to be puzzlers.”

“We finished all the puzzles you own,” I reminded him. “What are we going to do now?”

He tipped his head back in thought. “Well, we could go buy some new ones. But I have a better idea.”

“Yeah?” I turned toward him a bit.

“Yeah. I’ll make you one. I should have some sheets of wood thin enough in the workshop. We’ll trace a pattern on it and I’ll cut it. Probably have to sand the sides and finish it too. It’ll be fun.”

“I’d love that.” I beamed at him. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d smiled so wide. I couldn’t remember the last time in my life I’d smiled so much.

The smile on Mallory’s face was much smaller but there was something about it…

“And here I was thinking you two would be so bored without me,” Danny chimed in. “You’re so—” He made a hand gesture. “—domestic.”

Mallory laughed. “I’ll admit—it’s been good for me to have someone around.”

“Yeah, seems like. Speaking of, you seeing anyone, Dad?”

I drummed my fingers against my thigh, trying to focus on the fabric of my jeans.

“No,” he replied.

“There’s no one? Seriously, Dad, there are tons of single women in this town. And I guess you’re not too bad looking since we do share the same genes and all. Someone out there has to be desperate enough to go out with you.”

“Hey,” Mallory replied in mock offense. “I get asked out.”

Danny laughed. “Oh, yeah, okay.”

“Sarah asked me out. You remember Sarah and Ray? They used to come over before your mother died. You were young, though.”

He perked up. “Of course I remember Sarah. I recall you mentioning her divorce a year or so back. So did you two go out?”

Out of the corner of my eye, even though I was purposefully staring at the rug at my feet, I saw Mallory’s gaze briefly flash my way.

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

Mallory shrugged. “I don’t know, Danny. I’m just not…”

“Ready? Dad, it’s been ages. You deserve to be happy. At least give it a shot. There’s no harm in trying. Do you not like her?”

He threw his hands up in frustration. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it.”

“Well, think about it now. Call her up and ask to take her for a drink.”

“What? Right now?”

“Yes, right now.”

I stood up. “Anyone want a drink?” I asked. Not waiting for a response, I walked into the kitchen. Grabbing a glass, I filled it in the sink, drank the entire thing, and remained there, leaning against the countertop, begging the sinking feeling in my stomach to dissipate.

Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen.

Eventually, someone came up behind me.

“Sorry,” Danny said.

I turned to look at him, offering a weak smile. “No problem. Thought you two could use some privacy.”

He sighed heavily. “I want him to be happy, you know? I don’t know if it’s because he’s afraid or feels guilty or something, but I don’t think he’ll ever take the first step unless someone makes him.”

“Maybe the timing’s not right.”

“If I leave it up to him, it’ll never be right.”

Danny fished a cell phone out of his back pocket, unlocked the screen, and began typing a message. Not even a minute after sending, he got a reply. His face lit up.

“There,” he said triumphantly. He held the cell phone out to me and showed me the screen. It was then I realized it was Mallory’s cell phone and the conversation on the screen was with Sarah.

“Danny—” I began but abruptly stopped.

What could I say?

Danny, please don’t make your father go see her. It might break my heart?

He waved his hand at me. “I have to. If it doesn’t work out, it doesn’t work out. But he has to try.”

Right then, Mallory came in. He looked at me and then at Danny, obviously reading something in our expressions.

“What’s going on?” he asked.

Danny showed him the screen. “You’re picking her up at seven. Which means you have to shower, shave, and change right now so that you aren’t late.”

Mallory sighed heavily. He closed his eyes. I could tell by the slump of his shoulders that Danny had won.

“Okay,” he said. And then he turned around and walked out of the kitchen.

---

Mallory left on time.

He’d showered, trimmed his beard, put on a navy button-up shirt and a pair of slacks, and then was gone.

Just like that.

Danny and I sat on the couches watching a hockey game in silence. I had no idea who was winning or even which teams were playing.

“Ace,” Danny said quietly, snapping me out of my trance. He faced me fully and wore an expression on his face that I rarely saw. “I’m a complete dick. I’m so sorry about the way I handled things. I was angry and hurt, but that wasn’t any excuse. I’ve been the worst friend.”

“You’ve been the best friend I could ask for.”

“I freaked out about you being gay. Not because you’re gay, but because you didn’t tell me. How fucking selfish is that?”

“You’re entitled to your feelings, Danny. I understand why you were hurt. I never meant to hurt you.”

“You know I don’t give a fuck, right? If you’re gay.”

I nodded and replied honestly. “I know. I know.” I scrubbed my hand over my face.

“You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want, but if you do, I’m here for you. I won’t freak out and I won’t be a raging bitch about it this time—I swear.”

“When my parents died, I took it hard,” I said slowly.

He nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“I’m still taking it hard. I was close to them. I idolized my parents—both of them. I never had the chance to tell them that I’m gay. The day my brother and I found out they’d died, I told him. He told me… he told me that my parents would be ashamed of me.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Danny snapped angrily, looking like he was about ready to jump off the couch.

I shook my head. “I know he’s an asshole. I know. But he knew my parents better than anyone, even me. I think it’s the not knowing that gets me. Not knowing if he’s right or if he’s wrong, if my parents would be disappointed or ashamed of me.”

“There’s no way, Ace. They were good people, right? There’s no way they could ever be ashamed of you, especially not for liking men.”

“But I’ll never know for sure, will I?” My voice hitched. My gaze fell to my hands. “And no matter how many times I tell myself how they’d have felt, I’ll never know. Not really.”

“Ace—fuck—I didn’t know you’d been living with this weight on your shoulders.”

“Living might be the wrong word for what I’ve been doing. Existing, maybe.”

“You’re right about one thing: your brother is a prick.”

“It was a hard pill to swallow. Andrew and I always got along well enough before that. Not that we were close, but we acknowledged each other, did things together. We like the same things, have the same hobbies, wanted all the same things out of life. But he likes women and I like men, and because of that, I haven’t seen him since my parents died.”

Danny stood up from the sofa, sank down next to me, and put his arm around my shoulder. “Well, now you have me. And maybe I’m not like Andrew, and maybe you and I are different in almost every way imaginable, but you’re my best friend and I’ll always be there for you.”

I grinned at him. “Who knew you were such a sap?”

He playfully shoved me. “Okay, okay. Enough of that. But you have to tell me one thing.”

“Okay,” I said seriously. At that moment, I was willing to tell Danny anything. Even the way his father made my heart spin.

The look on his face was almost shy. “I’m totally hot, aren’t I? Like, model-sexy, right?”

Together we laughed.

---

A rustling noise woke me up.

It was quiet. If I hadn’t been so on edge the entire night, I might’ve been able to fall into a deeper sleep and wouldn’t have even heard the noise.

I opened my eyes, remembering where I was. Danny and I had finished watching the hockey game and he’d gone upstairs to sleep. But I couldn’t. Mallory hadn’t returned from his date yet, and I’d found myself impossibly restless. Unable to sleep, I’d thrown on my boots and jacket and headed into Mallory’s workshop.

The evening was cold, so I’d turned on the heater, fully planning to remain awake and shut it off later before heading inside. Apparently, that hadn’t happened. I was curled in my reading chair—as much as a man my height could be—with a thick, warm quilt tucked all around me.

I frowned, knowing certainly that I hadn’t had the quilt when I’d fallen asleep.

“Sorry,” a familiar voice said, startling me. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Mallory sat at his workbench. The small lamp in the corner was on, but it was the only light in the room. He wasn’t looking at me—wouldn’t look at me, even when he spoke. Instead, his eyes were fixed on the wooden countertop of the workbench and the glass of amber liquid in his hand. The bottle, momentarily forgotten, just inches away.

“S’okay,” I replied, wiping sleep out of my eyes. “What time is it?”

“Late.” He still wouldn’t look at me.

“I couldn’t sleep. I only meant to come in here for a bit. I must’ve fallen asleep.”

“You’re allowed in here, Archer. You know that.” His words were a little slurred. I wondered how much of that bottle he’d drunk already tonight.

“How was your date?” It almost stung getting the question out.

There was a loaded pause and then, “Good.”

It took me a moment to place the foreign smell in the room. Usually, it smelled faintly like soap or Mallory’s cologne and heavily like sawdust and fresh pine. But that night, faintly, lingering in the air, was the smell of perfume.

It smelled sweet like flowers. It made me want to throw up.

I wanted to ask him about his date, what they talked about, what they ate, how many times she’d smiled at him. I wanted to ask if she’d touched his arm when she laughed or if he’d kissed her goodnight when the evening was over.

I wanted to ask all the questions I didn’t want to know the answers to.

Instead, pointing out the painfully obvious, I said, “You’ve been drinking.”

“Just since I got home. I couldn’t have driven like this.”

“Okay.”

“I didn’t think it would be so hard. And at the same time, I didn’t think it would be so easy.”

“What?”

“Dating again.”

“They say time heals all wounds.”

He snorted and then threw back his glass, draining the rest of what was in it. Without a second in between, he began pouring another drink.

“Why can’t life be simpler?” he asked. But I knew he wasn’t drunk enough to expect a real answer to that.

“Danny’s right,” I said. I untucked my legs from under me and pushed the quilt away. “You deserve to be happy, Mallory. You’re a good man and you don’t have to be alone.”

He toyed with his glass, eyes fixated on it. In reply, he said, “She doesn’t like puzzles. Or whiskey.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“I know.”

“You don’t like puzzles either, Mallory.”

“I know that too.”

“What does she like?”

Mallory’s sigh was heavier than the collapse of a nation. “White wine. Reading biographies. Jazz music. Pasta primavera. Laughing. Swimming in the summer, skiing in the winter. My shirt.”

“All good things to like.”

“They are.”

“So?”

He stopped speaking. It wasn’t one of those comfortable silences full of hope and contemplation. The silence felt toxic.

“So,” Mallory said eventually. “So, I don’t know. You like puzzles and whiskey. And you listen to classic rock with me, although I’m painfully aware you don’t like it. And you love those chocolate cupcakes I brought home from the bakery last week, but you hate the bran muffins I make. And you like running and guns and silence, and Sarah doesn’t like any of those things.”

It was obvious now to see and hear how much he’d drunk.

“Mallory—”

“She doesn’t like puzzles.” Finally, Mallory turned to me, his eyes alight. “I want to be with a woman who likes puzzles.”

“I don’t understand.”

“You look so damn happy sitting at the kitchen table, puzzle pieces scattered around.”

I closed my eyes. “You should go to bed.”

“I know,” he said quietly.

I stood. “Are you coming in?”

He ignored my question as he stared down at his now-empty glass. “Puzzles make you happy, don’t they?”

Sharpshooter by nature, my instincts told me to go in for the kill. “It’s not the puzzles that make me happy, Mallory.”

Immediately, his eyes locked with mine. “Don’t do this to me, Archer.”

“Okay.”

Alone, I left the workshop, while Mallory remained behind.