“Y-yeah. Yeah, let’s go, huh? We should . . . um . . . what?”
Ollie laughed and sat up. “Sorry,” he said, but his silly grin and the glint in his eyes told Sam something completely different. Ollie was enjoying this.
And Sam had never been so happy to be teased in his life.
He ducked his head as he felt his cheeks heat up. “You wanna take the bathroom first, or should I?” he finally managed after another moment.
Lips pressed into his cheek, and Sam turned his head to see Ollie’s grin.
“I’ll go,” Ollie said.
Sam nodded and watched as Ollie stood and made his way back into the house.
An hour later, Sam intertwined his fingers with Ollie’s as he weaved them through the throngs of people already out and about in the small town. The morning still felt fresh—the air holding a briskness that had made their walk from the house pleasant—and they strolled along the main street through town, pausing every once in a while when something in one of the shop windows caught their attention.
The farmers’ market was just off the main street, and by the time they got there, just after ten thirty, it was in full swing. Sam let Ollie take the lead, and they ended up buying a carton ofblueberries, some locally made jams, and a freshly baked loaf of sourdough before they made it to the end of the rows of vendors, where the Gregory Westin Photography booth was set up. Sam felt Ollie’s excitement as they approached, and he squeezed Ollie’s hand.
“Anything you want, love,” Sam reminded him quietly, brushing a kiss on Ollie’s cheek. He heard Ollie let out a sharp breath, and Ollie released Sam’s hand to wrap his arm around Sam’s waist.
Together, they paused in front of the first of several large canvas prints. Sam immediately recognized the waterfall as Silver Falls, the main attraction of a trail he and Ollie had hiked a couple of times in Mount Rainier National Park. Sam grinned as he heard Ollie’s soft “oh, wow.”
“See anything you like, let me know,” said an older gray-haired man as he straightened one of the other prints near the back of the booth.
The man approached them, and Sam nodded and reached out his hand in greeting.
“Sam Reynolds. Are you Mr. Westin? We spoke on the phone on Monday.”
The man smiled as he shook Sam’s hand. “I am Mr. Westin, but I’m not the one you spoke with on Monday. I’m Allen Westin, Greg’s husband. Greg is off... Ah, there he is!” Allen’s gaze brightened as another older man carrying a tote filled with fresh bread, fruits, and vegetables joined them in the booth. “Greg, this is Sam Reynolds and... You must be Oliver, right?”
Ollie nodded as Greg set down his tote. “Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you both. Mr. Westin, I’ve been a fan of your work for a long time.”
Greg beamed and shook Ollie’s and Sam’s hands. “Ahhh, well, thank you, Oliver! I’ve been lucky all these years, findingthese incredible shots. All taken here in the Pacific Northwest. I’ve got a good selection here, and a few new prints that haven’t even been added to my website yet. Here, let me show you.”
Greg led Ollie around the small booth, describing each of the prints, and Sam stood back, smiling, as he watched the wonder in Ollie’s eyes. Allen moved to a chair behind the small desk in the corner, but when Sam’s eyes met his, the older man gave a small nod and a wink. Sam grinned again and then joined Ollie and Greg, moving up just behind Ollie as Greg began to explain how he’d managed to capture the photograph they were admiring—a breathtaking scene showing the sunset at Mt. Yakima. Beautiful red and purple wildflowers dotted the green meadow in the foreground, and Yakima Peak stood tall off behind Tipsoo Lake, the sun’s rays shining a deep orange from just above the horizon on the left side of the print. It was stunning. Ollie seemed transfixed, and he lingered for another moment, his eyes studying the huge print.
“Is that the one, love?” Sam asked gently, setting his hand on Ollie’s shoulder.
Ollie was quiet, but he leaned back into Sam just a little bit, then he let out a long breath and nodded. “Yeah... Yeah, this—this one. I... It’s just...”
“One of my favorites too,” Greg said, his voice low, as though he didn’t want to disturb the serenity of the image shown in the print.
“I just... love it,” Ollie said wistfully, and Sam bent down slightly to brush a gentle kiss on Ollie’s cheek. Ollie turned his head just enough so that their eyes met, and he smiled. “Thank you, Sam, I... don’t even know what to say.”
“Happy birthday, love,” Sam whispered, his smile softening as Ollie closed his eyes and leaned against him again. Sam wrapped his arms around Ollie’s waist and rested his headagainst Ollie’s, pausing in that moment to feel all the joy in his heart.
It was only as he stepped away with Greg to go fill out the paperwork and arrange delivery of the art piece to Ollie’s apartment that Sam realized he’d just been holding Ollie from behind—his arms around Ollie’s midsection, with Ollie’s back pressed against his chest. That position had... never been something Ollie could tolerate before.
Sam glanced back over his shoulder at his boyfriend, who now stood in front of another print, grinning and nodding enthusiastically at something Allen had said. Totally... happy. Happy and relaxed and eager.
And the little bit of hope that Sam had always kept tucked away—the hope that Ollie would someday heal, someday be able to cope with the trauma of everything he’d been through—flickered and fluttered and grew, a deep warmth spreading through Sam’s chest. He smiled and wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, then turned back to Greg, who was watching him with a knowing expression.
“Delivery and set up in Issaquah, right?” Greg asked quietly.
Sam nodded. “Um, yeah. Yeah. That’s—that’s right.”
Greg just smiled again as they sat down to fill out the paperwork.
Chapter 9
