Best Laid Plans (Garnet Run 2)

“Baby,” he said. “I can’t believe you.”

It was the tenderest chiding, the most loving headshake.

“Actually, I can,” Rye corrected himself. “I can absolutely imagine you choosing the desires of an imaginary future partner over your own.”

It stung, the accuracy of that statement, delivered so gently, and with Rye’s hand on his cheek. As if Rye saw the truth of his home’s yearning—its nearly silent, beige-and-white cry into the darkness: Love me. I won’t assert myself. I am made of space for you. I have emptied myself of any identifiable desires so that yours may flourish.

Charlie had made himself a ghost house, and he wanted the most colorful, alive person he’d ever met to make a home with him there.

He would have laughed, but he thought it might come out as a sob.

Instead, he looked at Rye’s hand, slim fingers newly roughened by work, and he kissed his knuckles.

“I know I haven’t done this before,” Charlie continued. “But I also know that having you here feels right to me. That has to count for something?”

Rye’s grip on his hands was so tight it was almost painful. He looked deep into Rye’s eyes and he saw there the same desire as his own. The desire to fall into their future like a child into a pile of autumn leaves—cushioned, enveloped, with just a little bit of chaos flying around the edges.

“It counts. It counts so fucking much, Charlie. I just... I’m scared, I guess. I don’t wanna mess this up.”

“Well, then we talk about it, right? Isn’t that what you said?”

Rye nodded. Then he glared, the glare Charlie had learned was his thinking glare—not to be confused with his pissed-off glare, his annoyed glare, his why-are-people glare, or his exasperated-but-amused glare.

“If you’re serious...” Rye began, then shook his head and cut himself off.

“I’m serious.”

Charlie pulled him into his lap and Rye snorted, but settled there, regal as a cat.

“I had this idea,” he said slowly. “It’s probably not possible. And it wouldn’t make any money. I don’t know, it’s not—”

“Tell me,” Charlie said, kissing his cheek.

“If you’re serious about me staying here, I was thinking... Maybe I could turn the Crow Lane house into a cat shelter. And we could hire River to work there because they love animals. And we could build cat ramps and little passages between the different rooms so the cats could play, and also it would help spread them out so they didn’t fight over territory.”

“Sounds like you’ve thought about it a lot.”

“Nah,” Rye said with a faraway look. Then he continued excitedly, “And then people could bring in cats they found outside or kittens they couldn’t keep. A vet could come in if there were any injured cats. And then anyone who wanted to adopt would be able to, but also maybe people could foster the kittens?”

Rye was bouncing more and more with every idea, his words coming faster as he laid out his dream.

“I’d have social media for the shelter so people could see how cute the cats were and want to adopt them. Oh! And we could have little activities for the cats, like little themed things around the holidays or about movies or whatever, and dress them up or have them play with thematic toys and then those pictures would hopefully get people who were into those things to like that particular cat and adopt them.”

Rye’s eyes burned with excitement and intensity. He looked like he was thinking about fifty things at once.

Charlie had known he was in love with Rye Janssen for a while now. He might not ever have been in love, but he knew it when he felt it. But now he found that love opening up to encompass not only Rye but this big, beautiful dream that Rye had.

Rye, who hadn’t been able to think about how he’d want a house for himself to be designed, but had designed this entire space for cats he’d never met to live the best lives they could until they found other homes.

Charlie hadn’t thought it was possible for love to double, but he felt it, in his gut. And lo and behold, he had space for it. He had all the space in the world for loving Rye.

He swallowed the tears he could taste in the back of his throat and nodded.

“And you’d... What do you think about living here, with me, then?”

“Yeah, isn’t that what I’ve just been saying?”

Rye glared, and this was a new glare. A variation of the exasperated-but-amused glare, yes, but it was clearly a why-are-you-making-me-be-mushy glare. Charlie liked it a lot.

He couldn’t keep the smile off his face for another second.

Rye isn’t leaving. Rye is putting down roots, building something, creating something. Rye isn’t leaving you. Rye wants to build this with you. He is saying we. We, we we!