Phoenix
The next two weeks passed far faster than they had any right to. Phoenix had assisted where he could, from packing boxes to taking pictures of the inside of Ace’s house to list online. With each day that passed, his heart grew heavier. He knew that he had made the right decision. This was what Ace really wanted. When he spoke of the job, of living in a city again, his eyes lit up.
Except sometimes, when he thought Phoenix wasn’t looking, Ace didn’t seem all that happy to be moving after all.
That would change, once he made it to New York. He would settle into his job and realize that Phoenix had been right to encourage him.
“Keep, sell, or donate?” he asked, holding up a loom. A sparrow soared on the canvas, one half cross stitched, the other watercolored.
Phoenix was surprised to find how much he liked it. Ordinarily, his tastes ran more modern—clean lines and neutral colors. But there was something about the bird that drew him to it. If Ace said anything other than ‘keep,’ it would find its way back to his house.
Ace looked up, and for a split second, his features twisted into something almost painful. But then the expression was gone, replaced by a carefully neutral one.
“I thought Dad got rid of that,” he said. “It was my mother’s. She made it.”
“I didn’t know your mom was an artist.”
Ace shook his head. “She wasn’t. Not like you or Ben, or Joel. It was more therapeutic than anything. The chemo took a lot out of her. Sometimes she’d be bedridden for days.” A sad smile touched his lips. “There was a nest outside her window the spring before she passed away. We would pull the curtains open so she could look out. One day I walked in and she was making this. She finished it the day the baby birds learned to fly.”
His voice had turned ragged, and Phoenix reached over to take his hand. Though he and his mother didn’t always see eye to eye, he couldn’t imagine losing her, especially at such a young age, as Ace had.
“It’s nice,” Phoenix said. “Not many people can master watercolor like that. Even if it is amateur.” He realized that might not have been the best thing to say, and cleared his throat. “I mean, since your mother didn’t have any formal training.”
Ace didn’t seem offended. Instead, he leaned over from his spot on the arm chair and pressed a kiss to Phoenix’s head.
“Would you like to have it?” he asked.
Phoenix’s mouth went dry. It would have been one thing if Ace hadn’t meant to keep it—if it had been some tchotchke that had no sentimental meaning. But it did.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to take something that means a lot to you.”
He smiled, but it faded quickly. “So do you.”
Phoenix wished he hadn’t said that. Pretending their relationship was nothing more than a fun intermission for Ace made it easier for him to say goodbye. Acknowledging that they meant something to each other was much more difficult, even if it were true. Even if he loved Ace.
Letting out a slow breath, Phoenix nodded and rested his head on Ace’s knee. “So do you,” he whispered, parroting the words back at Ace.
He set the sparrow to the side and picked up another item. The sooner they made it through the packing, the better it would be for them both.
***
Dinner that evening was subdued. Ace had spent the last few nights at Phoenix’s house, saying something about wanting to stay close until he left, but tonight was their last night together. Tomorrow, Ace would make the drive to New York. He’d arranged to rent an AirBnb until he could find an apartment in the city. Until then, the majority of his stuff would stay boxed up in his house, ready to be moved.
Phoenix picked at his potatoes and tried to focus on the present. It was no different than any other evening, right down to the meal. They’d grilled steak and Phoenix had overseen the creaming of the mashed potatoes. As always, Ace had made them perfectly.
“Have you given any more thought to the exhibit?” Ace asked.
Joel had brought the idea up once again, a few days ago when Phoenix had gone to the Wechsler to drop off some art. And again, Phoenix had turned him down on the spot. Only, he’d made the mistake of telling Ace about it.
“I’ve already said I’m not going to do it.” Slicing off a sliver of steak, he let it rest on his plate. “He wants me to do an opening reception with it, and I don’t think I can be around all those people.”
“You give yourself too little credit. You came to the Harvest Festival, after all. Even had a good time.”
Phoenix bit the inside of his cheek to keep from snapping, then took a deep breath. “That was different,” he said.
“How?” Ace pressed.
“Well…” he floundered. “For starters, it was outside. The Wechsler is small. Having a bunch of people all crammed into one space…”
“Like the Thanksgiving dinner at Sam’s?”
Though he tried to come up with a retort, Phoenix didn’t have anything to say. Or rather, he did, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Ace had been at both of those events. And while he knew Ace wasn’t some magical person who could make his Asperger’s disappear, having him around certainly helped with the anxiety. Not in the same way Lucy did. She was helpful, but even she had her limitations. Ace seemed to know when he was uncomfortable and how to deal with it. He knew how to divert the attention away from Phoenix or when to make a timely exit.
But he couldn’t say any of that, because it didn’t matter. Ace was leaving, and with him, the security he brought. Phoenix would just have to deal with it.
“I’ll think about it,” he said finally, even though he wouldn’t. It would get Ace off his back.
Ace nodded. “I think it would be good for you. People deserve to get a chance to meet you. You’re an amazing artist.”
Phoenix pressed his lips together. “Yeah, well.”
He let his hand drop and tangled his fingers through Lucy’s fur, needing her close. Taking in a deep breath, he let it out slowly. It wouldn’t do to keep thinking of what was coming next. They still had one more night together.
“I made snickerdoodles,” he said, breaking the silence that had fallen.
Pushing his chair back, he stood and walked over to the cookie jar. He stopped only to grab a biscuit for Lucy, then returned and set the jar down on the table.
Ace reached in, and Phoenix couldn’t help but remember the first time they’d shared the treat. Why Ace had come back after Phoenix had forgotten to feed him, he would never quite understand. But he had, and the result had been three of the most amazing months together. Phoenix had never known just how close two people could get in the span of three months. Apparently, very close.
He grabbed his own cookie and took a bite. His eyes slipped shut, and tears welled beneath the lids as the cinnamon hit his tongue. He didn’t want Ace to leave. It was too late now, though. And besides, Phoenix had been the one to encourage him in the first place. It wouldn’t be fair to stunt his career because of his own selfishness.
Swallowing, he opened his eyes and blinked a few times. Ace was staring at him.
“Are you okay?” Ace asked. His voice was too soft, damn him.
Phoenix cleared his throat. “I’m fine.”
Ace slid his hand across the table to take Phoenix’s. For the first time since they met, he pulled away. Ace didn’t seem to take it personally.
“I’m not,” he said. Phoenix frowned, but Ace continued. “I’m going to miss you.”
The words knocked a ragged breath from his lungs, and he clenched his hands into fists. The pain was nearly physical—an ache in his sternum that made him want to curl inward on himself.
“Don’t,” Phoenix whispered. “Don’t do this.”
His strength was a house of cards, ready to be blown over at any moment with the slightest shift.
“I’m not going to lie and tell you this is easy. It isn’t. I don’t—” He broke off and clamped his lips together.
“You don’t what?”
Ace shook his head. “Nothing.”
Phoenix wanted to press the matter, but there was a strong chance that would lead to a fight, and that was the last thing he wanted on their final night together. Instead, he reached forward to take Ace’s hand. Though he had just rejected it, it seemed like the right thing to do.
“Help me clean up and then we can go to bed,” he said.
He forced his voice to remain even. Tomorrow, Ace would be gone. But for tonight, at least, they still had each other.