A bit over halfway through our stay, I met Danny’s friends.

“Let’s go out and get drunk,” Danny said.

Danny and I started off with a six-pack in the large living room. We faced each other on the sofa and loveseat, opening one beer after the other. After finishing my second, my gaze fixed on a wood chair in the corner of the room. It was neatly tucked into the space between a shelf and the arm of the sofa. The top of the chair had antlers carved into it. I couldn’t help but follow their smooth lines.

Above the fireplace mantel, there was a hockey game on the television. Danny complained about it being a rerun, but I hadn’t noticed.

I hadn’t slept well the night before. I’d dreamed of screeching tires on asphalt, crumpling metal, and the still-familiar sound of my mother’s laughter. The thought of leaving the house was not appealing, even after the beer.

“I’m not feeling up to it tonight.”

“C’mon, Ace. I already called up the boys. They’re coming to drive into town. We can stay at my buddy Josh’s place.”

I wondered if Danny regretted bringing me here. I wasn’t a lick of fun when I was in a mood like this, and we both knew it. Truthfully, I think we both knew I wasn’t much fun in any mood. That didn’t mean I wanted to ruin his holiday along with my own.

“You should go.” The beer felt too warm going down my throat.

“And leave you here alone to sit in the dark?”

“Your dad will be home soon.”

“And he’ll keep you company? He probably talks less than you do.”

Car lights poured in from the large bay window. The sound of an engine rattling filled the quiet room, and then just as suddenly disappeared.

Danny tipped the bottle of beer back until it was gone, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, then shot up from the sofa. “You sure you don’t want to come?”

Quietly, needing to give him something, I said, “It’s not a good night for me.”

Danny replied, “I’ll stay, then.”

“I could use the quiet.”

And he was. Quiet, just then. He stared at me. I held his gaze.

The front door opened and closed with a gentle creak. We both turned to watch as Mallory walked in through the door and then down the hallway. His face was covered in shadows, which weren’t only from the darkness of the room.

When he noticed Danny and me in the living room, he gave us a small, crooked smile. “Hey. You boys going out?”

“Josh and the guys will be here soon,” Danny said in reply. “Ace is going to stay in tonight, though.”

Mallory walked over to Danny and ruffled his hair. “Make good choices.”

Danny laughed and swatted his hand away. The scene made my heart hurt. I tried to look away.

Another set of car lights shone through the window, followed by the same sound of an engine cutting. Moments later, there was laughter outside and then knocking on the front door. Danny hollered for them to come in while I set my beer down atop the coaster on the side table and stood.

A group of guys around our age spilled into the living room, bringing with them laughter and warmth and the smell of cologne. I counted four in total, and each grabbed Danny and pulled him into a hug with smiles on their faces. A couple of them smiled and greeted Mallory by his first name.

Danny was like that—likeable.

“Guys,” Danny said, gesturing toward me like I was a brand new car, “this is Archer. Archer, these are the guys. Josh, Keith, Matthew, and you guessed it, Matthew. The one with the stupid facial hair we just call Matt.”

Matt flipped Danny off then shook my hand. Each of Danny’s friends introduced himself.

The one who must’ve been named Josh was a little taller than me and a lot thicker. He had the kind of body you could tell he killed himself in the gym every day for. His smile was bright, and when he reached out to shake my hand, I found myself staring at the veins in his forearm.

“Sure you don’t want to come?” Danny asked me again as he pushed his arms through jacket sleeves.

“Yeah.” And I meant that. Tonight wouldn’t be a good time for me.

“Next time then?” asked Josh.

“Sure.”

The group of them said their goodbyes and began filing back out the way they’d come in, plus one more member to their group. As they walked away, unintentionally my gaze slipped to the curve of Josh’s ass in his Levi’s. But the moment they disappeared around the corner, I felt heat on the back of my neck.

Mallory was watching me.

He had that look on his face—that resigned “oh” look. My gaze met his and he didn’t shy away. It was then I noticed how dark his eyes were, so dark they might’ve been the color of a Dalmatian’s spots. His mouth remained in a firm line and his eyebrows hadn’t risen even a millimeter, but there was something in his expression I could read as easily as the page of a book in sunlight.

It was a few moments later when he finally spoke, but they weren’t the words I’d been expecting to hear.

“I’m going to light the fire pit on the back deck. Want to sit outside for a while?”

And only because, for some reason, it was true, I said, “Yeah.”

Mallory turned to the kitchen to grab something while I went to the front foyer to toe on my shoes and pull a large hoodie over the top of my head. I took one step back out into the hallway and paused. And then I took another step but paused again.

My right hand shook, only slightly, but it shook.

I pressed the heels of my hands against my eyes.

When I finally made it out back, Mallory was seated on a large wooden chair with an intricate back. It reached up and peered above his head. My first thought was that he looked like some kind of king sitting on his throne. It was in the self-assured way he sat leaning on one elbow propped up on the arm of the chair. Next to him there were two other chairs, equally as beautiful but not as large, and a self-contained portable fire pit in the center.

I walked over to Mallory and took the chair next to his. For a few loaded moments, we each just stared at the cutouts of deer and stars and trees on the sides of the fire pit. The warmth of the dancing flames inside did little to help the cold feeling of dread which had settled over me.

Without looking at me, Mallory pulled a small table from his side and placed it in front of him. He twisted the lid off a glass bottle, began pouring the honey-colored liquid into two glasses, and asked, “You drink whiskey, Archer?”

“Sure, Mallory.”

“Christ. You’re at least twenty-one, right? I know the drinking ages are different in the States.”

This annoyed the hell out of me. “Just how old do you think I am?”

“At least twenty-one, I hope.” He passed a small glass to me. I took it and leveled him with a look.

“Then all your wishes have just come true.”

We each sat back in our chairs, unspeaking past that point. I tilted my chin and looked up at the stars. Mallory’s gaze was directed toward the flickering flames in front of us. The night’s sky was dark with that impossible hint of blue you couldn’t see but still knew was there. It almost reminded me of the color of his eyes.

The moment the raw, strong flavor of the whiskey touched my tongue and traveled down my throat, I was filled up with that artificial warmth only whiskey could give. It tasted sweet, like vanilla and cinnamon.

“Japanese?” I asked.

Mallory cocked his head. “Whiskey expert, huh?”

“Yamazaki Single Malt.”

“Sherry Cask.”

“It was my dad’s favorite.”

“You’re making me feel old.”

“This isn’t cheap whiskey.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t usually have a lot of company all the way out here. Figured it was time to crack open the good stuff.”

Another few minutes passed.

Another few sips of whiskey were had.

Another few things remained unsaid.

“Just say it, Mallory,” I found myself telling him.

“He wouldn’t think of you any differently.”

There.

Now the top had been popped open, just like that bottle of whiskey. It was free to spread throughout the air and the universe alike. Free to taint the atmosphere with its bold, potent existence, never to be recorked—not in the same way.

My heart beat slowly with huge, thunderous thuds. A part of me had hoped I’d misinterpreted his look—even though I knew I hadn’t.

“Yes, he would,” I admitted.

“He’s a good person. You’re his best friend.”

“I know that.”

“He wouldn’t think any less of you.”

“He would think of me differently.”

“Different isn’t always bad.”

“No, but it is always different.”

A pause, and then, “Does anyone know?” Mallory was looking at me. His massive body turned to face me.

I pressed the smooth rim of the glass to my lips and tipped my head back. When I was able to look at the empty bottom of my glass, I said, “You. The men I fuck. My brother.”

“Bullseye?”

The burst of laughter that erupted from me surprised us both. Mallory smiled, then. I noticed.

I took another drink.

“Don’t tell him.” I didn’t look at his face, and I hadn’t said it as a request.

“I won’t.”

“You’re his father.”

“And you’re his best friend.”

I scrubbed my hands over my face and sighed heavily. The sound of Mallory taking my glass and pouring more liquid inside was the only sound that filled the air.

“I don’t want to talk about Danny like this,” I said. “Like he’s not here. Like we’re mommy and daddy fighting over what to tell our kid.”

Mallory pressed the warm edge of the glass against the back of my hand. “You sure as hell aren’t mommy.” I could hear the smile in his voice. His voice was warm and smooth and searing—just like the whiskey I took from him.

“So,” I said slowly, staring at the amber flames snapping in front of us. “What do you do all day?”

Leaning back in his massive chair, gaze nowhere near me, he said, “Go to work. Try to fight off the overwhelming loneliness. You?”

“Hang out with your son. Pretend I’m not gay. Wallow in self-pity.”

The honesty of our admissions might have shocked us. The air was full of some unknown atom—a particle that existed only here and now and only between us.

That was the strange thing about misery: it loved company.

We began to laugh.

---

“Archer cooked this? And it’s actually edible? Holy shit.”

Mallory laughed when I flipped Danny off.

Truthfully, I hadn’t done much of the cooking, but Mallory seemed to enjoy letting Danny think I’d actually contributed something useful.

Earlier that day, after I’d come back from my morning run, Mallory had asked, “Do you want to help prep for dinner tonight?”

“Yeah, sure. Let me hop into the shower first.”

I’d taken the stairs two at a time.

When I came back downstairs with dry clothes and wet hair, Mallory had already begun sorting things out on the kitchen counters. Music quietly played from a few speakers along the top cabinets. The house was warm, along with the orange-and-yellow glow of the lighting, but outside the ground was covered in bright, white snow.

“Hey,” he said, turning to smile at me. “What do you feel like doing?”

“Danny wasn’t lying when he said I was a terrible cook,” I replied, stepping closer to where he stood at the sink.

“That’s fine. Truthfully, it’ll be nice to have some help. Danny never wakes up before noon when he’s home, and even when he does, well, he’s not much help.”

I grinned. “Well, I’m at your disposal then.”

Mallory gestured toward a large, wooden cutting board on the counter with a bowl of potatoes next to it. Thankfully, I didn’t think I could screw up cutting potatoes too much.

“Do you know how to peel potatoes?” he asked.

“I’m a bad cook, not a moron.”

He turned toward me, eyebrow hitched. I grinned.

We finished preparing for dinner in a matter of hours, which was surprising, given there were only three of us eating. But Mallory insisted on making extra portions so Danny would have leftovers for days. Apparently, it was his favorite part of Thanksgiving dinner.

I ended up peeling and cutting the potatoes, carrots, and onions, but Mallory cooked and seasoned all the vegetables. He used cinnamon, sage, and paprika on the potatoes and glazed the diced carrots with honey and sprinkled them with rosemary. The entire afternoon, the kitchen smelled heavenly.

The time passed easily, gently, in companionable silence. It was the closest I’d felt to genuine happiness in a long time.

Now, Danny reached over and pierced a carrot from my plate with his fork. He chewed with his mouth open, eyes not leaving mine when he said, deadpan, “Yours taste better.”

“You’re such a child.”

Mallory chuckled. “Always has been.”

“Watch it, old man.” Danny gnawed off a massive piece of bread. “Or I’ll start eating off your plate too.”

Mallory leaned back in his chair, his lips curving at the corner as he looked at his son. He sat at the head of the long dining table, looking kingly. His arm was over the side of the wide, carved-wood chair, his thick shoulders spreading far past the back of his throne.

The table was covered in food. Glazed carrots, freshly buttered dinner rolls, roasted cauliflower and broccoli, a sliced turkey on an oval-shaped glass plate. A fresh bouquet of autumn flowers stood tall in their vase in the center.

“More wine, Archer?”

My gaze met Mallory’s. “Sure.”

The fingers of red wine slid down the inside of my glass. “Cheers.”

Both Mallory and Danny held out their wine glasses and reciprocated.

“God, the other night was crazy, Archer,” Danny began telling me—us. “Josh got so drunk, he started singing ‘O Come, All Ye Faithful’ in the pub. Matt fell over laughing and ended up tossing his beer into some girl’s face. It was wild.”

“Sorry I missed it,” I lied.

“Next time, right?”

“Next time.”

“And there were these women at the bar. Christ, Ace, this one—Laura, her name was—she was absolutely insane…” Danny kept talking but my focus wavered. Somehow, it waved towards Danny’s father. I was surprised to find him already looking at me, a gentle smile on his face.

Unable to help myself, I smirked back.

It was like we shared a secret—a secret I wish we didn’t share. A secret I wished I didn’t have.

“What did you two get up to?” Danny murmured, his mouth full of turkey.

“We shared old war stories,” Mallory replied smoothly.

“Funny. The two quietest, most private people in the world alone in a room together. Oh, the shenanigans!”

“I think you probably had enough shenanigans for the both of us.” Mallory took another sip of wine.

“Dad, her name was Laura. I already told you.” Danny quipped.

Leaning back in my chair, I glanced outside the tall window beside me. The night outside was blacker than a Tasmanian devil, while white, fluffy snow draped itself in large banks around the edges of the house. Far in the distance, though, the Northern Lights could be seen—barely, but they were there.

“Beautiful,” I said quietly to no one in particular.

Mallory made a sound of acknowledgment. “It’s the darkness. It’s calming.”

I nodded, not looking away from the window. “It makes you feel small.”

“I’m not small, Archer.” Mallory’s voice was relaxed. Almost playful.

Then I did turn, and a fleeting smile tugged at my lips. “You know what I mean.”

Danny groaned. “You two are astoundingly boring. I honestly feel like you two could bore me to death if I spent an entire week in your combined company.”

“Lucky for you, then, that you two are returning home in a day.” Mallory took another sip of wine.

“Yeah, bet you’re glad,” Danny joked. “What will you do without us? This huge house will be so quiet.”

Mallory remained silent as he tilted his chin back and looked up at the ceiling. The smile he wore was on the brink of sadness.

I wondered if Mallory would be lonesome or if he cherished the silence. If I were in his position, I might fall a little in love with my own loneliness. That would probably be my downfall, though. While Mallory looked sad at times, I could tell he was worlds more put-together than I was. The pieces of him weren’t still showing on the outside.

If I were left alone, as Mallory was, well…

I might not be alone very long.

Danny’s gaze fell heavily on my face. Sensing it, I blinked at him. His stare told me he knew what I’d been thinking—somehow. It was disarming.

The three of us sat in silence for the remainder of the meal.