Leaning back in my chair, I whisper a plea to the heavens.
I wish for a love that feels like home.
A love that will rock my world like no other.
the twenty third chapter
AMOS
Crickets trill along the shadow line, embers glowing in the pit. Marco leans forward in the chair, his face illuminated as he stokes the fire.
“I know it's a lot,” he says, resting his chin in one hand. “But now you know every ugly dark detail. Hope I haven't scared you away.”
I take a moment to let it all soak in.
“Not going anywhere, bub.” I reach for him. “I’m yours as long as you’ll have me.”
When it comes to feeling jealous of Porter, my heart feels lighter. Not heavier.
The man who pulled Marco to his feet when he'd been tempted to drink.
A man who has, despite his flaws, been there during some of his lowest days.
I’m humbled by that. Deeply thankful.
And Olsen?
I remember how painful it felt to unlearn everything about someone who had been my whole world.
To avoid any song, street or shared ritual that had once been anusthing.
To hold my breath when a car identical to his drove by.
I cried in my parents’ spare room for weeks, wearing Jake's shirt until it was smelly enough to walk to the laundry on its own.
That kind of vulnerability breaks a man to pieces.
But it also gave me the resilience and wisdom to love deeper, harder.
To never take anyone for granted.
It kills me that Marco has experienced so much pain.
And yet… how beautiful to be chosen by someone who knows the cost.
Somebody who is strong enough to stand alone.
The more I think about it, the penny begins to drop.
It isn’t love that we're afraid of.
Only the loss of it.
Marco draws comforting circles on my knee as he speaks.
“Porter and I were so young and naive,” he reflects. “I think whatever fleeting spark we felt had more to do with discovering that we were gay. The secrecy, the novelty of touch. And not wanting to be alone in an unfamiliar city.”
I marvel at his transparency.
