Eli stared at me, his mouth open in surprise.

Not the good kind of surprise.

“Hi,” I said, my voice quiet. I swallowed, and wondered if Eli could hear my heart pounding. It sounded so loud to me, compared to the silence of the night sky and stars above. “I hope it’s okay that I waited here. You’re mom said you’d be home soon.”

“You talked to my mom?” Eli still sounded surprised, but his voice was taking on a harsher tone.

Angry or not, he was still beautiful. How had I gone so long without seeing him? I ached to touch him, but when I took a step forward, Eli stepped back, and I took a hold of myself. It was too soon for that. Or maybe too late.

Still, I let my eyes drink in the glimmer of Eli’s hair in the moonlight, the dark blue of his eyes as they shined under the porch light. It had only been three months—three months and 21 days, not that I was counting—but Eli looked older, and those blue eyes held a hardness I didn’t remember. A hardness I’d put there, I realized, my heart sinking.

“Just—just for a second,” I said, trying to sound calm. “I didn’t tell her anything. Just that I’d heard you were back, and I wanted to see if you wanted to talk.”

“Well, I don’t.” Eli shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Oh.”

I’d sort of expected that. But I’d hoped that maybe—well, I’d hoped I’d at least get a chance to explain myself. But maybe that was just me being arrogant, assuming that Eli hadn’t already figured out everything there was to know about me. That he hadn’t realized that he didn’t want someone like me in his life.

“I—okay. I just—I get that,” I said, fumbling for words. I wanted to respect what Eli said. But I also really wanted to get this off my chest. “I just wanted to say that—”

“Save it.”

“But—”

“I don’t wanna hear it,” Eli continued. “I literally don’t wanna hear a word you have to say. It’s been three months, Nick, and I haven’t contacted you once. Why do you think that is?”

“I thought—I guess I thought maybe you thought I—”

“What? That I was too scared to do it? That I was worried what you’d think?” Eli glared at me. “Nah, fuck that.”

“Eli, please.”

“No.” Eli shook his head. “We’re done with the ‘Eli, pleases.’ We’ve been done with those for a long time. Maybe I was scared at one point, of what you’d think if I contacted you. But you don’t deserve that. You don’t deserve me thinking about your feelings. You certainly never thought about mine.”

“That’s what I’m trying to say. I know I fucked up, Eli. I know that, I do. But I was trying to—”

“No,” Eli said resolutely. “I said I don’t want to hear it and I mean it.” He started walking again, brushing past me roughly as he made his way to the porch. “Just leave.”

“I’m begging you.”

“I said go,” he shouted, turning angrily.”

“Eli, I’m sorry,” I blurted out. “I’m so, so sorry. I know you don’t want to hear it, but I had to tell you.”

“Oh, you’re sorry?” Eli twisted the words with scorn. “You’re sorry? And what, that’s supposed to make a difference? That’s supposed to undo the last three months?”

“No, no, I know that doesn’t fix anything. I just wanted to explain, to tell you—

“I don’t want your fucking explanations, Nick,” Eli yelled. “Maybe I did once, but you know what I want right now? I just want to not care anymore. I don’t care why you did it. I don’t care what you really meant. You hurt me, Nick. And then you didn’t talk to me for months, and hurt me some more. I don’t give a shit about your explanations. Nothing makes up for what you did. So save your fucking breath and just go. Explain to someone who cares.”

My chest squeezed tighter with every word Eli spoke. I couldn’t breathe. He had every right to be mad. But I’d hoped—foolishly, I saw that now—that he would somehow still be in the same place I was. That he’d still miss me. Ache for me. The way I did for him.

Clearly he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Yeah.” Eli shook his head in disgust before disappearing into the house. “Yeah, me too.”

I drove away from Eli’s house with no destination in mind. I was supposed to go to my dad’s, but I wasn’t sure I could face talking to him yet. I knew he’d be able to tell something was wrong. And everything was too raw right now.

I found myself taking backroads, no direction in mind, just driving as my thoughts scattered, coalesced, and then bounced off of each other again.

I don’t know what I’d expected. But not… that.

Everything felt unfinished. Like someone had stolen the words out of my mouth before I’d gotten a chance to say them. There was so much I’d wanted to tell Eli. But he didn’t want to hear it.

Just because I’d finally gotten brave enough to tell the truth, didn’t mean that Eli had to listen to it. That wouldn’t be fair. Nothing I’d ever done to him had been fair, honestly. I couldn’t blame him for having moved on. That’s what I’d wanted him to do. I didn’t have a right to be sad about it now.

Except—I was.

I blinked when I found myself driving down a familiar road. One I’d only been on once before, but that I couldn’t forget if I’d tried. On an impulse, I parked my car in that same gravel pull-off Eli had used this summer, the same one where I’d sat and waited for a cab to pick me up after he’d left.

It was even darker than it had been back in Quincy, out here in the woods, but I stumbled through the brush to find the beginning of the path into the trees. It only occurred to me that I could have used my phone to provide some light when I’d already made it to the clearing at the top of the hill. It would have saved me at least two faceplants. Then again, maybe I deserved those faceplants. No, not maybe. Definitely.

I looked around, my eyes falling on the oak tree, where Eli and I had—well, probably best not to dwell on that. Though, to be honest, I wasn’t sure why I’d come up here, if not to dwell on the past.

I sighed and sat down, staring out at the landscape before me. The moon was bright enough to cast some light, and eventually, my eyes adjusted so that I could make out the reeds waving on the shore of the small pond down in the valley. I caught a whiff of woodsmoke and smiled for a moment, before it slid off my face.

Eli didn’t want to hear from me. I could—and would—respect that. But I still needed to say something. Needed to get my thoughts out. The best I could do was leave them somewhere he might see them, someday. Pulling my phone out with shaking hands, I logged into the old Cherrie gmail account, and started to write.

Eli,

I’m writing this from that hillside you showed me this summer. I drove here after leaving your house tonight. I know you said you didn’t want to hear from me, or even see me, but I wasn’t ready to just go home and give up. I wasn’t ready to let go of you. So I came here.

I talked to Gwen today. I didn’t get a chance to tell you that. Not that that’s your fault—you don’t owe me anything. But there are some things I wanted to tell you. Things that are important for me to say, I think, even if you never read this.

I told Gwen everything except your name. I explained how I’d met you—well, someone, I told her—and how only later had I realized they were in the youth group. I explained that I put an end to things, and that that was why I stepped back, too. And then I explained how, in the end, I wanted you too much, loved you too deeply, to give you up.

She wasn’t thrilled, to say the least. But it was the right thing, telling her, and I’m glad I’m not hiding that anymore. She said I’d have to disclose it when I went before the credentialing committee, and that’s what I needed to hear, I think. I know the path forward now. Even if they don’t pass me, I’ll know that I was honest.

Gwen said the strangest thing to me, though, when I was leaving. She asked again if I was sure I’d ended things, and I said yes, and then she just looked at me and said, “Why?”

Why, she wanted to know, if I had loved someone so much that I was willing to jeopardize my whole career and future, why would I let them go?

I’ve been asking myself that since that day in August, Eli, and my answers aren’t any better now than they were back then. They were always terrible answers, but you deserve to hear them, at least. You deserve to know the truth.

I ended things with you because I was scared. Terrified. I loved you so much—love you so much—and I knew I wouldn’t be able to handle it if I lost you. If you were the one to end things. And I couldn’t see a world in which you’d want to stay with someone like me.

You have the most amazing future ahead of you. I’m nothing. I’m nobody. And I was terrified that you’d realize that one day, and you’d resent staying with me. That you’d either feel trapped and stuck with me, or worse, you’d leave.

I’ve been so afraid of loss my whole life. Maybe even before my mom’s accident. Which is pretty fucked up for someone who wants to help people for a living. I’ve let that fear rule me. I never let people in because I’m afraid of losing them. I don’t talk about my feelings because I’m afraid to be that vulnerable.

But that was never fair to you.

Eli, I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone. I love you so much it scares me. Because it means you could hurt me more than anyone else could. And I was so afraid of that, that I let myself hurt you instead.

I’m so sorry.

I’m so, so sorry, and I wish I could take it back. I never should have told you I didn’t love you. I look back on that afternoon and just want to stab myself for being that cruel. I thought it was the only way to get you to move on. I thought I was helping you. But underneath it all, I thought that I had to drive you away.

I’m so sorry I didn’t take better care of your heart. Better care of you.

You’re the most important person in the world, and I treated you like the opposite. I put my fear above my love for you. That’s not how I want to live my life, and it’s not how I would ever tell someone else to act. I feel like a complete fraud, but I’m going to try to do better. Try to be braver.

The first step of that is to actually treat you with the love you deserve, and not the fear that I have. And treating you with love means putting your feelings first.

I’ve hurt you, and you don’t want to see me ever again. That’s fair. But I just need you to know that I would take it all back if I could. I’d take you back here with me tonight, hold you as we listened to the wind, and I’d tell you that I want to be with you forever.

I don’t know if you’ll ever see this. The fact that this account even still exists makes me think you’ve forgotten about it. But I won’t try to make you talk to me.

I just needed to say, even if you never read this, that I love you. I have always loved you, and always will. I know you have no reason to believe me, but it’s true.

I love you, Eli.

I took a deep breath, and hit send.

Sending that email was the first step.

Or maybe seeing Eli had been.

Or hell, maybe the first step was talking to Gwen and my dad. I wasn’t sure. But it felt good to have done all that. Kind of. Not like, good good, but at least it felt like I’d accomplished something.

But the second step? I was pretty sure the second step was living the rest of my life without Eli. Living, and not shutting down again, not hardening my heart, but accepting that I’d pushed away the best person I’d ever known. That I’d lost the love of my life.

Step two sucked.

Adam and Ben seemed to have made it a project to adopt me, which was nice of them, only it seemed to involve getting me out of my house any night I had free and hanging out with all of our friends. Which, don’t get me wrong—I was grateful for my friends, and I used the opportunity to tell them that, per my whole ‘not being afraid of having feelings’ mission. But it was also hard.

Somehow, in the past year, all of my friends had partnered up. I was thrilled for them—but it didn’t dull the ache of missing Eli at all. It only made it stronger. But as Adam pointed out, I’d talked them through some of their heartbreaks—or rather, talked them out of being dumbasses, as he put it—and now, apparently, it was my turn to lean on them.

I was shocked to get a text from Marcus in December.

MARCUS: Hey, man. I know it’s been a while, but please consider this your invitation to come up for our Christmas party again. Mina’s adding two more trees this year, and we’d love to see you.

My eyes widened. I hadn’t thought I’d still merit an invite. Truth be told, the idea of going didn’t feel quite right. But before I could even reply, I got a second text.

MARCUS: Also, Gwen is here (we’re at a district meeting), and she says to tell you you have to come, and you’re not allowed to fink out, and that no, it won’t be weird. So I don’t know what that’s about, or why I’m passing notes between the two of you, but please, come. It’s been too long.

Which was how I found myself taking the train up to Rye, and then a taxi out to Marcus’s house one Friday night, hounded by Gwen’s texts that I’d really better be coming and not skip it at the last minute.

Part of me wanted to skip just to be ornery, but Gwen had promised to give me a ride out to my dad’s afterwards. Normally, I would have taken the train out tomorrow, but my dad said he’d be thrilled to see me even earlier.

“Nick,” Gwen said, her smile warm and her arms extended when she opened the door. “Welcome! I’m so glad you made it.”

I let her wrap her arms around me, and tried not to feel embarrassed by how much it meant to me that she still wanted to hug me after everything.

“What’s this?” Marcus’s voice boomed over the chit chat and holiday music in the living room as he came to the door. “No fair, Gwen. This is my house, I get to welcome Nick first.”

“Well, maybe you should try answering the door, then,” Gwen said with a grin as Marcus hugged me within an inch of my life.

“Excuse me, I was being a good host and making sure everyone knew where the appetizers were,” Marcus said, indignant. “Though I don’t suppose you’d know what ‘being a good host’ means, seeing as how you’ve yet to invite any of us to your place for a get together.”

“Marcus, Shay and I live in a one-bedroom apartment with four cats. You don’t want to come over to my place.”

“Excuses, excuses,” Marcus said. “Now, let’s get this man some wine.”

I let them pull me through the house, trying my best not to get dizzy from the crowd and the decorations and the rather heavenly scent of mulled cider and wine wafting through the air. If anything, the party was even more packed than last year, though it was hard to tell as they whisked me back. My head was spinning from the sparkles, the colored lights, the sugar cookies and laughter and press of bodies by the time we reached the kitchen.

“Red or white, Nick?” Marcus asked. “See, Gwen, this is called ‘offering your guests a drink,’ in case you’re unfamiliar with the concept.”

“Nick drinks red,” Gwen said, smiling sweetly. “That’s called ‘remembering your friends preferences.’”

I did mostly drink red, but I didn’t plan on drinking much of anything that night, if I could help it. I took a tiny sip from the glass Marcus filled and handed to me, then thanked him and tried to get my bearings. If I just held the glass in my hand for the rest of the night, I should be fine.

“So, Nick, how’ve you been?” Marcus asked, setting the bottle back down amid a sea of others on the kitchen island. “Gwen tells me there are lots of exciting changes for you.”

I glanced at Gwen, panicked, but she made a soothing motion with her hand.

“I was just telling Marcus about the internship you’re doing with Livingston this year,” she said. “Since the Mountview placement ended up not working out, what with your health stuff from last year.”

“Oh. Right.” I could feel my cheeks color, and I took another sip of my wine, hoping Marcus would attribute any flush to the alcohol. “Yeah, I uh—it’s been good.”

“And he’ll be finishing his coursework this spring,” Gwen went on. “So pretty soon, Nick here will be going before the credentialing committee and we’ll be congratulating him on his success.”

“I mean, I’m not sure—” I stammered. “I thought—that is, it might not—things are a little complicated. I’m not sure it’s going to—”

“Nick.” Gwen gave me a firm look. “You’re going to be fine. Everyone does things they’re not proud of sometimes. What matters is how you handle it. What you learn, and how you grow. If we were all judged solely by our mistakes—well, the world would be a much worse place, if you ask me.”

“Let’s hope the committee has as generous a viewpoint as you do,” I said grimly. “I’m not even sure they should credential me, regardless. I still have no idea what I’m going to do when I’m done. To be honest, I’m not sure this job’s the right fit for me. Or, that I’m the right fit for it.”

“Nonsense,” Gwen said. She squeezed my hand. “Nick, you have a lot of gifts to share with the world. Don’t be so hard on yourself.”

Marcus looked between the two of us, baffled. “Well, I have no idea what you two are talking about, but Nick, don’t tell me you’re thinking of going through all this school and work and then holding out on us.”

“I don’t know,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m doing my best at Livingston, but I kinda suck at sermons, and I’m no good as an administrator, or leading committees, or doing public outreach.”

“You think there’s a minister in the world who’s good at all of that stuff?” Gwen asked, arching an eyebrow. “Show them to me, please. I’d like to meet them.” She shook her head. “Besides, you’re leaving out pastoral care, which is a huge part of the job, and something you excel at. Everyone I’ve ever talked to says that about you, and that’s what I’ve seen for myself, too. There are plenty of ways to structure a job to play to those strengths.”

“To be honest, I never thought you wanted to be a parish minister,” Marcus put in. “I’ve never seen you seem excited about that. But you light up when you talk about the work you’ve done at Peachtree, the people you’ve gotten to know and help. Have you ever considered chaplaincy? That’s a huge need, and sounds like something you’d be great at.”

“I—” I stopped, my mouth hanging open. “I actually… hadn’t?”

Which felt ridiculous to say, but it was true. Somehow it had never occurred to me that that might be an option. There were chaplains at hospitals, at Peachtree, even, but I’d somehow never thought of that as something I could do.

“Well, consider it,” Marcus said seriously. “I mean it. I think that might suit you to a T. Now, I know Jess and Leigh were asking if you would be here again this year. I’ll take you to them, if you’ll just come—”

“God, Dad, gross. Enough with the double entendres,” Julia said as she came into the kitchen from the dining room. “I thought we talked about this.”

“Yeah, Dad.” Cory followed Julia into the kitchen. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, the comedy stylings of my delightful offspring,” Marcus said, pulling Cory into a headlock and ruffling Julia’s hair.

“Ugh, Dad, corporal punishment is so passé,” Julia grumbled.

“Who’s getting corporally punished? Can I watch?”

I froze at the sound of that third voice. I still couldn’t see the person it was attached to through the throng in the dining room, but I didn’t need to. It belonged to Aisling.

I hadn’t expected her to be here. I hadn’t even thought she’d be home for the holidays yet. But if Aisling was here, and Julia and Cory were here, then that was not a good sign. That was a very bad sign, actually. Because if they were here, then there was a definite chance that—

“Yeah, no fair doing all the corporal punishment in the back where no one can see. That’s no way to treat your guests.”

Eli and Aisling walked into the room, and my heart stopped.

Marcus turned to the two of them, letting go of his daughters and saying something to Eli and Aisling that I didn’t catch, because I was too busy trying to will myself out of existence. How had I not thought that Eli might be here? How had I not considered that? Of all the things to have forgotten, the fact that Eli and Aisling were thick as thieves with Marcus’s kids was not one of them.

But I had, and now he was here, and Aisling might have been laughing at whatever Marcus had said, but Eli certainly wasn’t. Instead, he was staring at me like I’d personally offended him by simply being in the same room as him—which, fair—and Gwen was looking back and forth between the two of us, clearly connecting the dots, and God, Eli was going to think that I’d come here to try to talk to him again, and why oh why couldn’t I please have a sudden heart attack?

“Nick, you alright there?” Marcus said, turning towards me. “You look like you just remembered you left your waffle maker on back in the city.”

I drained my glass of wine in one gulp.