“I—I want you to be happy, Heath. That’s all I want.” My voice faded into a whisper, eyes stinging with the beginning of unshed tears. And, as abruptly as his anger had appeared, it evaporated.
He collapsed on the couch beside me and grabbed me to him, crying. “I’m sorry. Fuck. I’m so sorry.”
I returned the hug, almost suffocated by his embrace. Heath was a mountain of a man. That brief display of violence would have caused fear in me from any other source besides my self-adopted brother. I knew I was safe with him. Always.
He was rocking back and forth, his hug tightening, pulling me along with him like a rag doll. “God, I suck. I’m so sorry,” he kept repeating.
Now his voice was breaking and his head was on my shoulder, his chest vibrating with violent sobs. And inexplicably, I started to cry, too. It wasn’t every day that you felt your best friend fall apart in your arms, his heart shattered into tiny bits.
I’d done this before, helped pick up the pieces. And though Heath liked to imagine himself a tough guy, when he loved, he loved with his whole heart. He put everything out there uninhibitedly to be stepped on and crushed. Without fear of consequences. And though that made for more painful breakups, I knew that if I’d been the same way with Adam in the beginning, we may not have encountered some of the huge problems we did later.
Fortunately, as Heath said, I was lucky. Very lucky. Adam and I had a second chance, and we were learning every day how to make this one stick forever. But that didn’t mean that Heath and Connor couldn’t have their own brand of luck, too.
I held him tight and didn’t speak for long minutes—probably longer than a half-hour or so, while he sobbed on my shoulder. I didn’t shush him, didn’t rock him, didn’t coo like he was a baby.
I was there for him. A silent presence. I cried with him. I relived those moments when my own heart had broken. I empathized.
Adam and I had never had to worry about things like family, religion, beliefs, or someone hating us simply because of who we loved. I couldn’t even imagine what that would be like.
Heath’s parents hadn’t spoken to him in almost a decade. Connor had to keep his identity deeply in the closet, never fully being able to reveal who he was to the people he loved most in the world. And I couldn’t help but think about how cruel that was.
Heath was right. I was lucky. And I had no business giving him love advice from my position of never having to worry about those other things. People would never oppose my and Adam’s right to love each other and get married.
So that night, as we held each other, I tried my hardest to be a good friend.
And hoped. Hoped that someday he’d get to be happy, too, with the man that he loved.
We never did get to the movie. After a long talk, a cleanup job, and another bowl of popcorn, we pulled out the Munchkin cards and played that instead. It was great for a much-needed laugh.
By the time I made it home, it was after nine and—miracle of miracles—my significant other had made it home before me. However, he was on his laptop in his home office, likely still working.
And he was exhausted. He couldn’t even hide it from me. He’d changed out of work clothes—looking delicious, as usual, in a pair of gray sweat pants and a black t-shirt (a gift from me) that read I’m a programmer: To save time, let’s just assume that I am never wrong. I swooped up behind him, threw my arms around his neck, and smooched his prickly cheek.
He leaned back, hooking a hand behind my neck to bring me in for a kiss on the lips. “How was movie night with Heath?”
I straightened, throwing a significant glance at his laptop. “You still working?”
Adam ran a quick hand through his hair, as if smoothing it out. He was trying to eliminate the telltale signs of him having pulled at it or fiddled with it—a habit for him born of frustration.
“Still dealing with all that IT stuff? The IT guy still not coming through for you?” I asked before he could formulate an answer.
He nodded. “I’m really disappointed in Alan. I keep waiting for him to get his shit together, and he’s not rising to the occasion. I get that his personal life is in the toilet, but there’s only so long that I can wait on that.”
“Bet when you sat down to write your first program, you never imagined yourself being more a manager of people than a plain ol’ computer geek.”
He heaved a sigh. “Sometimes I really wish I could go back to those days. Just me and my PC and my source lines of code in C.”
“But…in those days, you hoped to build your dream game and have millions of people enjoy it. And now here it is, reality.”
“Yeah. But one man can’t do it all.”
“Not even you.” I leaned away to get a better look into his face. He appeared pale, drawn. There were circles under his gorgeous, dark eyes. I smoothed my hand across the whiskered cheek. “That’s why you surround yourself with kick-ass, awesome people and jettison the losers. If they don’t share your vision, let them go. Like, sadly, you may have to do with Alan. But if they rock, hold them close. Like…Jordan, for example.”
His jaw tensed under my hand, and those dark eyes hardened like black ice. Nevertheless, I wasn’t sure which mention brought about that reaction—his IT director or Jordan? Maybe both. To ease the tension, I away, tilting my head to see his computer screen. He reached over and closed it. It locked with a final click, and I stared at him, raising a brow.
“Business BS. I really do need to stop for the night.”
“Yeah. Or you’ll never sleep. You’ll toss and turn for a few hours like you did last night. And the night before. Then you’ll finally give up and sneak out of bed at about three or four a.m., hoping I won’t notice.”
He grimaced. “Guilty.”
“You aren’t sleeping. You’re working as hard as ever. You’re starting to look raggedy.”
His brows rose, and he appeared indignant. “Raggedy?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “You’ve got a lot of pressure on you. And with this wedding—”
His eyes narrowed. “We are not delaying the wedding date.”
“I didn’t say we should. I am worried about you, though. About your health.”
He laughed, leaning back in his chair and patting his lap. “I’m perfectly healthy. Want me to prove it to you right now?”