23
EVAN
On their lastfull day at the cabin, Evan woke before CJ. The light filtering through the blinds was muted and gray, and he could see a low ceiling of clouds hiding the mountain range. He stayed where he was, half on his side and twisted toward CJ, and stared at the ceiling. Next to him, CJ was on his stomach with one arm tucked beneath his pillow and the other flung sideways toward Evan like he’d reached for him at some point during the night. His hair was a disaster and the sheet had twisted down around his hips, leaving his back bare. His muscles shifted faintly with each slow breath. Evan reached out and brushed a finger along CJ’s bare shoulder, not enough to wake him. Just to make sure he was real.
They’d been at the cabin for three days, and two of them had been used on slow mornings and longer afternoons, letting the time unfold however it wanted. Yesterday, despite his protests, CJ had convinced him to hike a trail that wound through the pines and came out on a ridge with a view that had shocked them both into silence. CJ had stood there squinting into the distance with his hands on his hips, face slack in awe, and Evan hadwatched him instead of the view until CJ caught him and raised a questioning eyebrow. Evan hadn’t looked away.
In the evenings, Evan cooked and CJ hovered, equal parts audience and obstacle as he leaned against the counter with a running commentary about whatever was in his head. He stole ingredients off the cutting board when he thought Evan wasn’t looking, and asked questions he already knew the answers to just to keep Evan talking. Once, CJ reached around Evan for a glass and stayed there a beat too long with his shoulder pressed lightly into Evan’s back.
“Do you actually need that?” Evan asked without turning, sliding the knife cleanly through a zucchini.
“I’m sure I will at some point,” CJ said, popping a piece of zucchini in his mouth as Evan nudged him out of the way with his hip.
CJ grinned and shifted two inches to the left, which did nothing except keep him in Evan’s space. Evan huffed in annoyance, but CJ had stayed there anyway, watching him like he was doing something more entertaining than cooking dinner.
By the time they carried the plates outside, the air had cooled, and the sky had deepened to that dark shade of blue that came just before darkness fell completely. Neither of them had talked much, and that was okay. Evan hadn’t wanted to talk. He wasn’t anywhere near rested—the kind of tired he’d been carrying for years wasn’t something a few days in the mountains could fix—but he felt more like himself than he had in a long time. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever this was, whatever they’d managed to carve out for themselves the last few days, had a time limit.
Evan shifted onto his side and tucked an arm under his pillow, and CJ stirred and threw his arm over Evan’s waist before turning his head to the other side without waking. Evan watched him longer than he meant to, then he reached overand ran his fingers lightly along CJ’s spine. Another low, sleepy sound rumbled in his throat as CJ shifted at the touch, but he still didn’t wake. Evan let his hand fall away and exhaled slowly before easing himself out from under CJ’s arm.
Evan sat on the edge of the bed for a second, hands braced on his knees as he stared at the floor. He didn’t want to waste the day inside, pretending they could hold on to something he could already feel slipping away. The cabin had given them a version of themselves that didn’t have to worry about anything outside of these walls. There were no cameras, no expectations, and no consequences. But it wasn’t real, and if he didn’t find a way to create a distance between this and reality, leaving was going to feel like they were losing something instead of just…ending a trip.
“I’ve been tryingto get you to go to town since we got here,” CJ said suspiciously.
He was leaning against the kitchen counter, clutching a mug of coffee in both hands, wearing a gray thermal Evan was pretty sure belonged to him and a pair of joggers slung low on his hips. Evan didn’t look at him, focusing instead on the pan of eggs he was scrambling.
“Have you?” Evan asked, like he wasn’t aware of how many times CJ had wanted to go somewhere.
CJ scoffed in disbelief. “Yeah. Repeatedly. You said no.”
“I said not yet.”
“You absolutely did not say not yet.”
Evan laughed and moved the pan off the heat. “Semantics.”
“It’s not semantics if you shut it down every time I bring it up,” CJ said. He stepped closer, and Evan wasn’t sure if he’dbeen drawn in by the food or Evan. “Now, suddenly, you wake up and you’re like, let’s go out in public?”
“It’s not like we’re going out in San Diego.” Evan divided the food onto two plates and shoved one into CJ’s hands. “Are you going to give me a hard time about this or are we going to go?”
“Oh, we’re going,” CJ said, smiling now but still suspicious. “Obviously, we’re going to go.”
He kept his face carefully neutral. “Good.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes, but Evan didn’t miss the way CJ kept shooting looks at him.
“Why now?” CJ asked quietly.
Evan met his gaze and held it, trying to figure out what to tell him. Because there was an answer. Several actually.
Because it was their last day.
Because staying here all day felt like they’d be pretending they didn’t have to leave.
Because he didn’t trust how easy things were inside these walls.
Because he wanted a true version of them that existed in the real world, even if it was small and quiet, in a mountain town where no one knew them.
He didn’t say any of that. Of course he didn’t. Instead, he took another bite of eggs and said, “I just thought it would be nice to do something you wanted.”
