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“Erik, stop.”
“He just wanted to see me,” Erik spat. “That’s all my brother wanted! If only I hadn’t sent him to voicemail that day. If only I’d hung out with him, or maybe—”
“No one can live like that,” I interrupted. “What happened to Hayden could’ve happened the next day, or the next week, or the next month. Or it could’ve happened to you, or me, or anyone else. It’s all dumb luck.”
“But—”
“You didn’t do anything,” I reiterated. “Every day of our lives we make thousands of seemingly insignificant decisions. Any one of them could cause our undoing. You could drive off a cliff just as easily as you could win the lottery. It’s all a matter of timing and fate and—”
“But this was my brother, Savannah,” he said sullenly. “He hadn’t called me in weeks. Maybe months, even. But this one time… well…” He swallowed hard past the lump in his throat. “I… I think he was reaching out to me.”
I could see it in his eyes — he needed this. He believed it too.
“Maybe he was,” I allowed.
A level of understanding passed between us, somewhere in the unbroken silence. My gaze fell back to the tattoo on his arm.
“Knowing that helped you,” I said softly. “Didn’t it?”
Erik nodded solemnly. He pointed to the words on his arm. “There but for the Grace of God, I go.”
“Meaning you got out,” I nodded back. “Or you would’ve suffered a similar fate. Gone down the same path as your brother, but for God’s mercy.”
Erik’s stark blue eyes lit up. I could see him staring back at me with all new admiration. “Exactly.”
Another beat of silence passed. This time, neither of us looked away.
“Those are your scars,” I nodded, indicating his tattoo. “They’re a part of who you are.” Slowly I pulled my shirt down over one arm. Using a finger, I traced my wounded shoulder. “We all have scars,” I said quietly. “We all have… regrets.”
My lover’s eyes softened. He stared curiously at my starburst of jaggedly-healed flesh. But at the same time, he also didn’t.
“Here’s to getting away from bad situations,” he said, raising his coffee cup.
“And here’s to making better future decisions,” I replied, toasting him in turn.
We both drank deeply, our eyes locked. Then, like two gunfighters lowering their weapons, we slowly set our mugs down.
“Erik?”
“Yes?”
“This coffee sucks.”
Another long second went by, and then suddenly the both of us burst out laughing. It was loud and long. Totally and completely cathartic.
And it felt great.
“Take a walk with me,” I said. “Let me buy you a real coffee.”
“Coffee…” He snickered back at me, drying the corners of his tea
r-streaked eyes. Before he answered, he laughed some more. “Isn’t that just a pretense for getting me into bed?”
“Ultimately, yes.”
“But you’ve already done that.”
“Then I’m ahead of the game,” I smiled.
