Tim whistled. “Whoa. Okay, that’s cool. You’ve been busy being super dad. I get it. So wow, if you haven’t even had close friends all this time, let alone a boyfriend… Have you ever trusted someone? Like with Regan, I don’t know if she’s ‘The One,’ but I trust her. I could tell her anything. She’s solid, you know? Sometimes her head’s in the clouds with all her love and peace stuff, but she’s strong. I can depend on her. What about you? Have you ever trusted someone like that?”
Memories crescendoed—Ben’s eyes crinkling as he sang along with Will Smith on the Road to the Sun; his bulky warmth holding Jason close during that endless black night in the woods, sheltering him from the worst of the wind; his sweet, desperate kisses as he brought Jason’s body to life.
“Yes,” he croaked, his throat thick.
“I assume it’s Ben since you sound like you’re going to cry?”
Exhaling a little laugh, Jason said, “Yes. He… He was so kind to us, and then after everything happened, he was a rock. I can’t imagine what I would have done without him.” He swallowed, mouth dry. “I don’t know what to do anymore without him. I got by for years on my own, and now I feel so weak.” He shivered in the bright sunlight.
“It’s not weak to need someone. You just have to be strong enough to trust this guy. Put yourself out there. Lay it on the line, man. If you hide behind excuses and let the opportunity with him pass, you’ll always wonder what if. Stop running away. Who can say how shit will turn out, but at least you’ll know.”
“You’re right. You’re so right.” A calm, deep sense of hope filled Jason. He wasn’t going to give up Ben without a fight. He was done standing in his own way.
Blinking, he realized Maggie was standing by the bench giving him a quizzical look. Into the phone, he said, “Hold on,” then asked Maggie, “You okay, sweetie?”
“Uh-huh. Why are you grinning like that?”
“Because your uncle’s grown up to be really smart.”
“Is that him? Hi, Uncle Tim! We’re getting ice cream!”
Tim laughed in Jason’s ear. “Tell her hi back and that Rocky Road’s my fave for future reference.”
“I will. Talk to you soon, okay?”
They hung up, and Jason fixed Maggie with a faux stern look as Max raced up, practically doing cartwheels as the musical tinkling of the ice cream truck filled the air. Somehow kids always heard it a mile away. “Who says we’re getting ice cream?”
Clasping her hands, Maggie begged, “Pleeeease?” as Max chimed in.
Jason bought them dipped vanilla cones, along with one for himself, getting almost as much chocolate on his face as they did.
He buzzed as they walked home, tempted to do a cartwheel of his own. He was going to call Ben and tell him how he felt.
As soon as he figured out how to say it.
This was a huge mistake.
A bus rumbled by, a distant horn honking as Ben stood on the sidewalk in front of the building. He stepped onto the grass to make way for an enormous baby stroller and stared up at the brown brick, wondering which unit was Jason and Maggie’s.
Unable to stomach another lonely night at the cabin, he’d made the biggest impulse purchase of his life with a stupidly expensive plane ticket. It had taken a red-eye and two connections, but now he was actually looking at Jason’s home.
Finding the address had been alarmingly easy online. Ben knew he should at least call before showing up, but he kept telling himself he’d do it at the next airport. Then in the cab. But now he was on the narrow strip of lawn between the sidewalk and a row of bushes, phone in his damp palm.
It was late afternoon. Storm clouds darkened the sky in the distance, the humid air thick with promise. Sweat dripped down Ben’s spine, the sleeves of his thin plaid shirt rolled to his elbows. This had all made sense when he’d hatched his plan. Not that it had been a plan per se. The idea was basically to beg Jason to give him a chance. Give them a chance.
Jason was young and scared and overwhelmed. Ben had to fight for the future they could have together. He’d plead his case one more time, and if Jason said no, that would truly be the end of it. But at least Ben wouldn’t have to wonder what if and live with the regret of having not even tried.
Rolling back his shoulders, he pocketed his phone and took one step. Then another and another, rounding the bushes with his duffel in one hand, squeezing the straps. Inside the foyer, he scanned a list of surnames with buttons beside them. There it was. His finger hovered in the air.