Simon shook his head wildly. He blinked away his tears, but only succeeded in chasing them down his cheeks. “No, it’s not your fault.”
“I feel like it is.”
“It’s not.” Simon turned his hand around so that they were palm to palm.
Palm to palm with Harlow Warwick… was this a dream? Tingling pleasure spread through his tissue, his bones, and his thoughts, until every part of him, physical and psychological, buzzed with joy and wonder. When it was done establishing itself in Simon, it leached into the air, infecting their surroundings with chemistry that Simon couldn’t explain away.
Harlow’s expression softened. His eyelids lowered, although they didn’t close. His hand tightened around Simon’s, making a claim.
Mine.
All of it may have been imagined—a product of wishful thinking and little more—but to Simon, it was real. It painted his world in colors unimaginable, depicting a scene he never thought he’d live to experience. For a fraction of a lifetime, he belonged to the man he wanted more than any other. He was loved, and cared for, and cherished. Even the lowest parts of him—the ones mired in darkest depression, unable to pry themselves loose—felt manageable. Not cured, Simon noted, but manageable.
But no one could strip the gloom from his soul but himself, not even Harlow.
“Kid?” Harlow asked, his voice low and smooth, silk to Simon’s ears. Simon lifted his chin to find Harlow was looking at him, their faces close.
Simon’s gaze flicked to Harlow’s lips. His heart throbbed. Did Harlow feel the same way? Did he want this just as much?
“Yes?”
“Tonight, once the kids are asleep, I want to talk to you about something. It’s important. Is that okay?”
“Yes.” Simon tilted his head another degree, his eyes closing. What would Harlow’s lips feel like outside of his daydreams? Would it be as effortless to kiss him in real life as it was in his imagination?
“Good.” Harlow squeezed his hand, then released it, shattering Simon’s hope. He opened his eyes to find that Harlow’s attention had returned to the water, the teenagers down the walkway kept in his peripheral vision. It didn’t look like he was keeping tabs on Simon at all.
Simon’s heart broke, but his determination didn’t. Today, tonight, or sometime in the next eventually, hewouldmake Harlow aware of what he felt. If he didn’t—if he let this chance pass him by—he would never forgive himself.
“Do you have any quarters left?” Evie asked.
Shep shook his head. “No.”
“Then why don’t we go walk around the spring itself? There’s a walkway there, right? I was totally peepsing it online. It looked gorgeous. Wikipedia said that it was a karst landscape, or something? It’s all, um, like worn down by the water and looks kind of like a cave. There’s this rock overhang thing you can walk through with all these tiny chambers, and there was a review online that said that someone stuck their head inside and like, a million bats flew out and scared theshitout of them. I thought it sounded kind of cool.”
Shep narrowed his eyes. “Did you just say you were ‘peepsing’ it?”
“Like that’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever heard me say.”
“Well… good point.”
They fell in line together and continued their walk, and as though pulled by an invisible string, Harlow followed after. Sun shone through the foliage overhead, sparkling on the water and soaking through Simon’s hair. Even in times where his heart was heavy and his spirits were low, there was beauty to be found. By the same token, the darkness he’d been lost in, the hopeless sense of isolation, wouldn’t keep him stranded. In Harlow, Simon had found a guiding light. It was up to him to keep heading for it, or to let it slip away.
The decision wasn’t easy, but it was right.
Simon took a step forward.
Freedom meant endless potential for failure, but if he never took risks, nothing would ever change.
