The next couple of weeks were the best of my life. I didn’t think about the wish I’d made, or what it meant, because I was too busy living. When I did think about it, my thoughts were wasn’t this the point? To make changes, and live? I pushed thoughts of the wish aside.

Thankfully, Dhameer didn’t put in an appearance. It would have forced something I wasn’t ready for.

Everything with Declan was like learning it all over again. Not just the relationship aspects, but going out to a new restaurant, or taking a run along the canal together. He wasn’t from the area, so we went up to Great Falls and took the canal boat tour. It was pulled by mules. We held hands on that trip, and for the first time, I didn’t feel like everyone was looking at me, saying, there are the gay guys, and judging.

I didn’t notice anyone look at me at all. Because I was too busy being me and being with my boyfriend.

It was a revelation.

Our dinner with Tibby and Seth had been fantastic, and things had only gotten better from that point on. It felt like I was living in a fairy tale. I’d never been so happy.

I’d had dinner with my family in that time, and they all noticed the difference in me. I wasn’t ready to tell them about Declan, what with Melissa still being an ass. I just said that I was moving on from my earlier disappointment, and I was glad that I didn’t look as bad as I had been.

My mother squeezed my hand as I left the house and told me she loved me with a rather pointed look. There’d be time to tell her. I kissed her and told her I loved her too.

Truth was, I wasn’t ready to share him. I wanted to enjoy life with just the two of us, getting to know him better, learning his likes (eggs benedict at any time of the day) and dislikes (he was allergic to dandelions. We laughed at how he’d discovered that—teasing his sisters and getting them shoved up his nose). I didn’t want to have the world intrude just yet.

But as the priest says, Man proposes but God disposes. The world wouldn’t be denied.

We were out on the patio at my house on a Saturday morning. Both of us were on our laptops. I was reading something from work, and I didn’t know what he was doing. He made a noise, and I looked over. His brows were furrowed, a sure sign of distress. I’d been with him long enough to know that look.

Not that it had ever been directed at me.

“What?” I asked.

“It’s from my mom.”

“What’s up?”

“My dad is in the hospital.”

“Why didn’t she call?”

“She said there are no cell phones allowed, and she doesn’t want to cry on the phone with me. I have to go back, Bry,” he said, looking up at me.

“Of course you do,” I said. I reached over and touched his arm. It felt weird to be so sad when the sun shone and I was so happy, but I hurt for him. “What can I do?”

“Nothing, right now. I just need to get home. I’m going to book a flight tonight if I can.”

“Okay,” I said. I wondered if I should ask him if he wanted me to come with him and then stopped myself. He didn’t need to be dealing with a new relationship when his dad was sick.

“Listen, if you need me, I’ll be there the same day,” I said. I wanted him to know he could count on me that I was there for him to lean on.

He shot me a grateful look. “I appreciate that. But as much as I’d love it, I’m going to pass right now. My mom will get all weird, and feel like she’s supposed to be a hostess, and it will make me crazy.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a particularly happy sound. “You don’t need to see all my family shit right now.”

“Hey, you’re talking to the baggage collector, remember?”

He smiled, but it was strained. He got up and took the laptop inside with him.

A cold thread of fear wound its way through me, but I dismissed it. I hoped that his dad would be okay.

I kissed him as I dropped him off at the airport that night. He’d protested, but I said no one wanted to take the Metro if they didn’t have to. It was a long ride. He held my hand all the way there.

“Take care of yourself,” he said. “You’re bad about being too hard on yourself.”

“You do the same,” I said. I was worried. He wasn’t the same guy I’d been getting to know these past couple of months.

“I’ll call you,” he kissed me once more.

“Okay. No rush. Let me know you got there all right and take care of your mom.”

“I—” he stopped. “I’m going to miss you,” he said.

I kissed him and held his face in my hands. “I’m here, whenever you need me. Take your time. I’ll miss you, too.”

He kissed me, and it was a hard, almost desperate kiss. Then he bolted from the car, stopping to look over his shoulder at me. I blew him a kiss, not caring if anyone saw. He smiled, but it was a painful smile.

Then he was gone.

Why did it feel like we’d just said goodbye? Not the kind of gone-on-a-trip type either, but more.

I shook my head. I was being ridiculous. I put the car in gear and headed home.

As I drove, I thought about how I wanted to ask him to move in when he got back. Or would it be too soon?

Declan texted me when he got in. He seemed stressed, so I didn’t do anything other than text him back, letting him know once again that I was there if he needed me.

I felt lost on Sunday. I was used to being with him regularly, and time alone felt weird. Instead of moping, I cleaned the house, and went for a run as the sun was setting. When I got back, I saw that he’d called.

When I listened to the message, it was clear that things weren’t going well.

“Hey, Bry, listen, this is not great, things aren’t great right now. I’m outside the hospital, and my dad’s heart is, they’re not sure how long he’s going to be in here—” his voice broke. “I’ll call you again when I can. I’ll be at the hospital most of the day, so if you don’t hear from me, don’t worry.” He paused. “I miss you. I miss everything we have been building.” Then he hung up.

How did he do that? He always seemed to be on the same wavelength as me. I felt a wave of tenderness, and more, wash over me at the thought of him. I wished that I could be there with him, but a new boyfriend is nothing to bring home to a sick bed and family drama.

I sent him a quick text to let him know that I’d gotten his message, and to call me when he could.

Then the work week started again. For once, since I’d met Declan, I was glad that we were neck deep in clients. It allowed me to not think about him although I missed him. I missed his smell, his touch, his laughter. Everything.

We texted all week, but on Thursday, he finally called.

“Hey! I’m so glad to catch up with you!” I said.

“Hey, how are you doing, Bry?” He sounded worn and tired.

“Better than you, from what it sounds like. How’s your dad?”

“It’s not good. I don’t think he’s coming out of here, although Mom and the family—well, they don’t want to hear it. But that’s where I think this is heading. It’s heart failure, and… well, it’s heart failure.” I could hear his voice tremble a little.

“I’m so sorry. Do you want me to come out—?”

“No!” His answer was swift, almost harsh. Then his voice softened. “No, I don’t think I could handle you seeing my family. They’re very Midwestern, very traditional.”

What did that mean? “Do they not accept you?”

“No, they accept me, but… it’s complicated.”

“You don’t have to explain that to me, Declan. It’s me, remember? King of complicated.”

“Yeah, I knew you’d understand.”

“I miss you,” I said.

“I miss you, too,” he whispered. “Listen,” his voice rose, “I need to get going. I’ll speak with you again.”

And he hung up.

That was a bit off. Something wasn’t right. Then I mentally kicked myself. Of course it wasn’t right. His father was dying. No one else would accept it, which meant Declan had to deal with the coming loss of his father, as well as the burden of the family. I’d seen this when my grandmother had passed away. No one wanted to admit it, but she was dying. Didn’t slow the death process down a bit to have people pretending it wasn’t happening.

I mentally put my paranoia and foolishness away. I was reading things into things that weren’t there. It came with the territory. I’d been burned, and I still had the scars to prove it. These kinds of things didn’t heal as quickly as one might like.

Poor Declan. Given the apparent denial of his family, no wonder he insisted on honesty. Once more, I thanked whatever deity might be above watching, because I needed the honesty. After learning what I’d learned about Graham, I needed to know that my partner wasn’t feeding me a line of bullshit.

The longer I was with Declan, the more I saw that things had been so skewed with Graham and me. While it hurt—boy, did it hurt—his turning me down was the best thing he’d ever done for me. Not only had it brought me Declan, but it had forced me to look within myself, to be honest with myself for probably the first time in my life.

When we’d first started dating, Declan’s willingness to be openly affectionate put me off. Rather, it made me nervous. Which made me look at why I was so reluctant to even hold his hand in public.

It wasn’t anything horrible. I certainly wasn’t ashamed to be seen with him. It came to me, on one of my runs, that I was ashamed of me. Not anyone else. But me. Myself.

I’d grown up in a family where people weren’t gay. Oh, there were probably some closeted gay folk floating around the family tree somewhere, but not out in the open. No one knew if there were. I knew I was gay early on. Like, when I was ten. I wasn’t interested in girls. Only the bad, rash, adventuresome boys in my class. Most of whom were not my friends, which made things a little easier. I learned pretty quickly that liking the other guys more than girls was something to stay away from in this crowd of boys.

I’d kept that secrecy, that quiet sense of shame, of being in the wrong, my whole life. I had a feeling that while he hadn’t articulated it—because he was trying to get the hell out and not be blamed for it—this was part of the reason that Graham had left. He knew, or sensed, that I wasn’t capable of being open. Not that he helped.

It felt really good to be able to be honest—and angry—about Graham. I’d not run into him again after I saw him at the gym. I was grateful. While I’d calmed down, I was still angry at him. I didn’t know how to let it go, and I was trying. But I thought about what he did, the bullshit that he laid at my door, rather than accepting the crap he’d done, and it pissed me off all over again. I’d been ignoring it because I didn’t want to have that anger impede on my time with Declan in any fashion, but with him being gone, it was me and my thoughts.

Which left a lot of time for thought. Probably too much thought. Over thinking things was usually not a good thing.

No, I came to the conclusion that I would need to see Graham and speak my piece. Let him know that I knew, that I knew who and what he was, and tell him I was angry.

And then I would tell him I never wanted to see him again. It would be done. I would be done, and that chapter of my life would be over. A memory.

For the first time since we’d broken up, I was ready to let him go.

I just didn’t realize how quickly I’d get my chance.