I can’t stop beaming at my Sapphire. The fact that he’s sitting here at all, back in this place after everything, does something to me. He’s so strong. So fucking attractive it's unreal.
“Thanks, Tarik. For everything.”
He closes his eyes and turns toward me. When he lifts his lashes, I catch that blue fire in his eyes. I hold his gaze, letting him read everything I’d whisper in his ear if we were alone:I see you. I’m here. You did it.
Watching him now, I want to believe none of this was random. That there was a thread running through it all, pulling him exactly where he needed to be.
As the legend goes, Avalon is the island you go to when you need to heal.I needed to go to Avalon to heal.
Tom’s journey to Avalon had begun right here; mine began four years ago, on a bridge in Portland.
By then, the pills had stopped working. The numbness was thinning, and whatever they could no longer give me, I started chasing in my head; the image of drifting somewhere beyond everything. Somewhere past Avalon, somewhere quiet.
Safe in Paul’s arms.
His lips against my hair. The weight of his warmth around me. His voice promising there would be no more demons in my head. Just the two of us, held in something softer than air. A transcendent place, what I told myself was paradise.
My index finger had already lifted from the metal bar when two officers grabbed me and dragged me back. I remember thrashing. Crying. Begging them to let me go.
I’ll never forget the moment one of them bent close to my ear while I lay cuffed on the concrete and whispered, “Not today, brother.”
When I looked up, I saw why he’d said it. He must have seen the dog tags hanging next to the onyx on my chest.
I saw the veteran’s tattoo just above his collar, inked in the exact same place Paul used to have his.
That changed everything. It felt like a sign from the universe, as if Paul was reaching through it to remind me I wasn’t alone. That this wasn’t how my story was meant to end.
I still want to believe that. That Paul is part of the universe now, guiding me. Maybe he even sent Tom my way. And I’m glad things unfolded the way they did. I had to learn how to stand on my own feet again before I could offer my heart to someone else. So did Tom.
Being here with him feels like the confirmation I didn’t know I needed.
He’s ready.
And so am I.
Chapter forty-four
Tom
Iused to move through this city like I was the duke of the night.
Amsterdam’s darkness offered me an escape. I could disappear, just another face in the crowd. No one recognized me as I wandered through the streets, hoodie pulled low, the burnt-herb taste of White Widow on my tongue.
Disappearing into alleys, I’d find rats fattening themselves behind tourist-trap restaurants. Invisible hands touching palms in discreet exchanges. Product for cash.
It was raw and ugly and real, and somehow I’d made a home in the parts of town people pretend don’t exist. That overlooked harshness had fed half my catalog.
Not anymore.
Now the same darkness feels…softer. Almost mystical.
The canals shimmer instead of reflecting something I don’t want to see.
Streets feel alive instead of haunted. And I’m walking through them with a glowing firefly at my side, calm and bright in a waythat makes me furious with the universe for not giving me him sooner.
I want to sayI wish, but I’ve learned to be careful with that word.
So instead, I let myself be curious. About what life would’ve looked like if we’d met ten years ago, when we were still stumbling into adulthood. Into our sexuality. Into ourselves.
