"You don't have to do this, you know." I hand him one of my extra yoga mats before we walk to Nalini’s studio.

It’s a short walk, about six blocks in the opposite direction from The Pint. It’s an old brick building that she’s painted white. The lobby walls are brick, lined with shelves. It’s funny how I notice the space with Deacon with me. The chalkboards that announce the class schedule. The books propped up near the register. Behind the register a black bow with a notched arrow, pointed to the sky.

Nalini has created a sacred space here for us. A space for community. For peace and growth.

I glance over at Deacon as he fills out the insurance waiver required to attend class.

He's wearing shorts and a T-shirt and looking quite pleased with himself after our earlier episode. He hands the tablet back and follows me into the studio space.

"I want to. This is something that's important to you."

I glance at the mala beads hanging in the bright sunshine. I’ve never purchased a set but Nalini wears them.

"We're doing yoga nidra at the end of class. Are you going to be able to sit still for that long?"

"We'll find out, won't we? If I run from the room doing a Muppet flail, we'll know it's probably not a good idea to repeat."

"You're awfully nonchalant about this whole thing. Most people are really intimidated by yoga."

He lifts one shoulder. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

I take our mats into the studio and snag spaces for us, then I drop a blanket for each of us before I pop into the bathroom quickly.

I step back into the studio to see him lying flat on the mat, covered entirely by the blanket. One of the other regulars is looking at him like he's crazy.

"I paid for a nap?" His grin is pure mischief.

I yank it off him, grinning like an idiot and folding it back up. "The blanket is for after. You'll get cold doing the yoga nidra because your body will relax a lot."

He scowls and sits up, his legs crossed awkwardly in front of him. He's stiff but trying to play it cool. "Why is it so hot in here?"

"It's a heated class."

"What the hell does that mean?"

I sit next to him, crossing one leg over the other and twisting in his direction. "Have you heard of hot yoga?"

"I guess."

"Well, the guy who started that trademarked it so no one is allowed to do Hot Yoga. But studios can do heated yoga without violating his trademark. The studio is set somewhere around ninety to a hundred degrees and we do flow yoga in that."

He looks mildly horrified, as if I’ve just told him we’ll be handling live snakes or something. "Why would anyone want to do that?"

"Oh it's amazing. The first time I did it, I thought I was going to drop dead. But now that I'm used to it, I prefer it. You get deeper stretching and poses with it. You have to hydrate though. I sweat like nobody's business."

"I know something else that makes you sweat."

"Shhh!" The studio is starting to fill up as other people start placing their mats. Some are meditating, some just sitting quietly. "No talking during class, either."

He mirrors my pose, crossing one leg over the other and stretching. "No sarcastic comments? No swearing?"

"No. People are here for a lot of reasons so you have to respect people's ability to get into their flow."

"I assume that was English."

I narrow my eyes but can’t stop the smile spreading across my lips. "Are you nervous about this?"

He scoffs quietly. "No." Like the suggestion is absurd. "Why would I be?"

I smile at him. "You'll see. Bodhi’s a pretty intense instructor."

"I thought you said this was an easy class."

"It is." I fold over my legs, stretching the back of my quads. The burn and pull against the muscle is juicy and delicious, a hint of what's to come.

I look forward to this. To the flow. To the movement. To the tuning in to my own body and my own strength. To focusing on what I am, not what I used to be or what I could be. To be utterly and completely immersed and connected to everyone around me.

The instructor comes in and closes the doors, drawing down the blinds. "What's going on?" he whispers.

"Shhh. Just take your cues from him."

Bodhi is new but I’ve fast become a fan of his restore classes. He opens the class talking about the new moon and the power of new beginnings. I close my eyes and fold my hands in front of my heart, trying not to watch Deacon out of the corner of my eye.

He looks around at everyone then he rests his hands on his knees.

And then we om. A deep inhale and then I raise my voice with the sound vibrating in the air around me. It penetrates the bones of my chest, the center of my spine, running through my vertebrae.

I savor the sensation, the complete surrender of being connected with everyone around me.

We stand and Deacon follows.

I raise my arms overhead, reaching for the sky, then fold forward at the waist into the first sun salutation.

And try not to laugh as Deacon makes a noise somewhere between pain and surprise as he bends over.

Halfway lift. He's a beat behind everyone, his jaw set, his expression focused on keeping up.

It's a beginner flow class. Nothing too intense.

The instructor calls for malasana, the yogi squat. I ease down into it, balancing on the balls of my feet.

Deacon…I'm not sure what he's doing but it's something that resembles a dying stork. He wobbles badly and swears under his breath, his T-shirt already soaked. The room isn't even that hot yet.

He catches me watching him and he waggles both eyebrows and mouths something that might be I'm going to die.

I try not to laugh as I move into crow pose, trying to forget that my lover is next to me doing everything he can to keep up as he suffers through the next few poses. I hear something that might be no fucking way and try really hard not to laugh.

My soul warms with the connection, though, in knowing he's here with me because he wants to be.

And that, for the moment, I'm okay with him being here. I'm not afraid.

Maybe we're not as bound by our past. Maybe there's hope that the past…just is. That it will stay where it is.

That maybe, for once, I can be in the moment and savor it, without the fear of it rising from the dark.

I move into downward dog, my body releasing an unsettled feeling I've been carrying for far too long.

My bends are deeper, my arms stronger. I feel alive. Awake.

Whole, for the first time in years.

I fold for what seems like the thousandth time and seriously try not to die from a heart attack. The last time I can remember being this covered in sweat was in Iraq after an eighteen-hour convoy security mission for a logistics patrol.

I am going to fucking die.

I started the class, watching Kelsey out of the corner of my eye. Watching how she seems to fall into the whole thing, like a well-worn pattern that's familiar and comfortable.

Then the instructor did the om. I wasn't going to do it. It seemed way too weird. But I found myself actually joining in and the vibration echoed through my ribcage. Not like the first time I did it, where it freaked me out. Maybe it's because I'm with Kelsey but this time was…kind of neat. The way my sound blended in with everyone else's?

Okay, so I think, I have this.

We move into something called warrior one. Okay, this is doable. Right?

Oh fuck no what are we doing now? Arms back overhead. Kelsey drops her back arm and lifts her front arm over her head in a graceful bow shape.

I feel like a deformed pretzel that got dropped on the floor, all jagged elbows and knees. There is nothing smooth about any of this.

Now what is warrior two? Okay, arms stretched. Upper thigh does what? Mine doesn't bend that far. Kelsey's front leg is parallel to the ground, her body straight and somehow soft.

We keep going through the different motions. Two seconds into this monstrosity called chair pose that I already hate, my thighs are screaming, threatening to amputate themselves and go on strike.

Half moon? Kelsey has one leg kicked out behind her, her upper body parallel to the floor, one arm stretching into the sky, the other barely skimming the earth. It’s graceful and poised. My legs don't separate like that and I'm damn sure not reaching the ground with one hand. I can barely lift my back foot off the ground.

The instructor takes pity on me and brings me a block. I notice I'm the only one using it but at this point, I have no more pride left. I balance precariously on it, lifting my back leg as high as it will go, which isn't very damn high.

I've never felt more inadequate in my life.

Kelsey glances over at me and I give her a wobbly thumbs-up. I'm pretty sure I look about as cool as a cat dunked in a swimming pool.

Oh, what the hell is this? Dancer? Kelsey grabs her back foot, lifting it into the air, raising her other arm out in front of her. And she's barely freaking wobbling.

I can't even grab my back foot. Humbling isn't even the word for this.

The instructor moves on to something called wide-legged forward fold. That sounds benign.

Until I face the same direction as Kelsey and she folds over right in front of me.

And now I've got a semi looking at her sweet ass pretty much right in my face. Given that we were in a shockingly similar position not even a couple of hours ago, I’m now officially hard. I smile, imagining a juvenile Beavis and Butthead laugh in my head.

This is definitely not going according to plan. Damn it. I sneak my hand between my legs, flicking my cock. The pain is blinding but does nothing to take my erection down.

Kelsey gets down into something called side crow and I'm trying to stay upright. Jesus, there's another dude in here who's bare chested and holding the same pose.

How in the hell…?

I'm not even going to attempt it. I'll just hold twisted whatever it is that I'm doing at the moment. The only good part about this madness pretzel shit is that it made me lose my erection, which is good because now I won’t be embarrassed, looking like the stalker weirdo in the class, walking out with a hard-on. Pretty sure that’s a good way to get arrested.

Oh yay, now we're sitting. This should be easy.

And…nope. Not good. We're not sitting, we're kneeling and leaning backward. Because the human body is meant to do this. What the ever-loving hell?

Kelsey’s legs are bent beneath her, her torso folded back, her shoulders flat on the ground.

That's a level of flexibility that I could seriously get behind. Or in front of.

Or holy crap, I need to stop watching her. This is too erotic by far.

Oh shit, child's pose. Yeah, that's pretty much exactly the pose she did earlier with her strip tease.

Shit.

Wait, we're lying on our backs now.

Everyone is under a blanket. Okay then, lying down is definitely something I can do.

Kelsey is lying on the floor, her eyes closed, her body draped in a multicolored wool blanket.

I do the same, closing my eyes, grateful my public humiliation is at an end.

And then the instructor starts talking. About breathing. About feeling your body, lying on the floor.

How long is this going to last?

I'm twitchy, lying there. Trying to listen and not distract anyone. The bottom of my foot starts itching something fierce. I don't scratch but it's so intense my damn leg starts shaking.

And just as suddenly as it starts, it stops. I have the oddest sensation of floating somewhere between waking and sleeping. It's strange because I can hear Kelsey's quiet breathing next to me. It's comforting, not being alone in this strangeness.

Lights flash behind my eyes. I frown but don't flinch. It's reminiscent of lightning streaking across the night sky. Quick streaks across my eyelids. My heart starts beating faster. I try to focus on the streaks and flashes but the harder I try to watch them, the faster they disappear.

And then they're gone, leaving only the blank space behind my eyes. I find myself looking for them. Wanting them to come back. The black shape morphs and twists, a shadow that reminds me of the crow that sat on the edge of the broken window that night, long, long ago.

Not wanting to be alone and still. I shiver suddenly, like someone walked over my grave and I am suddenly, achingly cold.

It feels like an eternity before the instructor’s voice snaps through the silence, telling us to move our fingers and toes.

To roll onto our sides, then slowly sit up.

I feel slightly out of it.

Like I'm waking up a little bit drunk.

I steal a peek at Kelsey, whose palms connect at the center of her forehead as she bows. I quickly follow; something tells me this is the most important part of the class.

The whispered hush of “Namaste” slides over my skin. Something soothing. Calming.

Serene, even.

I've never felt anything like it.