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I appreciate my supportive boyfriend’s efforts to distract me, giving me time to determine my next course of action. I’m eerily calm on the outside, breathing evenly, in sync with Nino’s exhale.
Snatching my backpack that’s lodged in the footwell, I unearth a piece of cinnamon gum from the package in the front pocket. The taste explodes on my tongue and I let out a satisfied sigh. It’s been ages since I’ve had it, but I felt compelled to buy some during a pit stop. The smell reminds me of my childhood, as much as my colorful L.L. Bean backpack. My dad bought it in Freeport, Maine, for an upcoming hiking trip. It’s no longer my style and the colors have faded over the last two decades, but it’s a keeper.
I miss my parents so damn much.
My not-so-secret agenda of the day includes making peace with my most beloved ghosts… ghosts that don’t haunt my nights.
Why have I waited so long to make this trip?
Deep down, I know the answer: I needed the right person to share this moment with. Nino Toussaint is that person. I doubt that I would have done it otherwise. I’ve contemplated the idea many times but didn’t see the point in facing a past that was stolen from me.
Nino made it happen… My blue eyes return to his.
“You okay over there?” He shoots me a sympathetic smile, and his fingers squeeze mine, wrapping my mind and body in comfort.
I nod. Thoughtful, I take shallow breaths to get a hold of myself. My quizzical eyes bore into his. A new set of questions. More answers that he won’t—and shouldn’t— supply.
What’s next? Stay in the car and dwell on endless questions? Go knock on the door? Ask for a short look inside? Leave my past behind once and for all?
It’s my call. My French addiction has done nothing but respect my values, listen to my opinions, and help me to become my own person again—something that I often overlook.
Shortly after he moved in, my lover made a point to accommodate my preferred kinks, adjust his own life to give us a chance, and go with the flow. At first, I kept asking myself what I brought to the relationship, but he soothed my rambling questions with his constant reassurance, reminding me of our shared interests, common ground, and newly found balance. His easy-going nature triggered my more relaxed approach to life! I wish my parents could have met him, but then again, without their tragic death, we wouldn’t have met.
Tremendous happiness can sometimes follow tragedies. Nino explained how his parents’ divorce forced him to grow up more quickly, how it affected his life choices, and how it shaped him into the man he is today. His obsession with the butterfly effect makes total sense.
How could I have guessed that his gorgeous tattoo symbolized the indelible marker we shared? My almost tragedy. His immediate action. Our unlikely reunion.
He inked his skin because of you, for you, dumbass…
My chest swells with a mix of pride, gratitude, and happiness. I’m head over heels for him, and seconds away from muttering the L word, but I refrain, although I stopped feeling guilty for jumping into this relationship so hard and fast. Somehow, the fact that Alex sensed our immediate connection—that quickly turned into attraction—before I did bothers me. Part of me knows that I didn’t cheat on Alex, but I can’t erase the feeling nonetheless.
Eventually, I speak again. “I never told you this, but when I moved back to Cali, I considered settling around here… But Santa Monica offers so many perks that I couldn’t ignore.” Awesome surfing. Awesome job. Awesome neighborhood… no matter how Silas soured its memory years ago. Thankfully, Uncle Brad’s indiscretion prior to my arrival verified that I don’t have to worry about Silas Sanchez. My former dom vacated the area a long time ago, which suits me fine.
“You bet! You succeeded in building a great new life with old acquaintances…”
“And a precious new one.” With my words, his hold on my hand tightens. He brings my knuckles to his mouth, kisses them, and mouths a thank you. Our palms touch. Instinctively, I take a peek at the yellow house across the street. It used to be blue. I gulp the lump in my throat as I appraise the white house to its right, where my friend and very first crush, Benjamin, used to live.
“We don’t have to do this if you don’t feel like it. We’ve made it this far, and I appreciate you wanting to share it with me, but… it’s been a long day. Maybe we—”
Swiveling my head, I take another peek at my childhood house—myactualchildhood home—turn to him for a quick kiss, and grab the door handle. “Nah, let’s go. I’m ready.”
And yet, Nino and I are just standing there, with our butts resting on the driver’s side of the hood. Arms crossed tightly across our chests, the late autumn sun blinds us as we squint at the house in silence.
I’m about to suggest that we take a walk in the neighborhood before deciding on our next course of action when I’m startled by the sound of the neighboring house’s two-car-garage door opening. A car backs out, then screeches to a stop.
A broad-shouldered man crosses the street, walking briskly towards us.
A quiver runs down my spine when a masculine voice catches my attention. “Ashton? Is that you? Ashton Cooper?”
My throat goes dry. My posture turns rigid. My jaw clenches tightly. I’m speechless.This can’t be happening!
His hair is a bit darker. His voice is definitely deeper. His physique is still impeccable.
“I knew it was you. Wow!” Blushing, he engulfs me into a tight hug that feels annoyingly comforting. “I can’t believe it… after all this time.”
Stunned, I don’t react and neither does Nino. He releases me from his embrace but remains in my personal space. “Unbelievable.” He punches my shoulder. “I never thought I’d see you again, man.”
“The feeling is mutual,” I mumble, frozen in place.
