I shifted my weight from one foot to the other, suddenly aware of how big I was, how much space I took up in this small clearing. My hands opened and closed at my sides, itching to reach for him but not knowing if I should.
"Said I would," I replied, the words coming out deeper than I meant them to. I took a few steps closer, and Dan did the same, until we were standing just a few feet apart. Close enough that I could smell that pine soap he used and something else that was just him. Close enough that I could see his chest rising and falling with quick breaths, like he'd been running instead of waiting.
"I wasn't sure," he admitted, looking up at me with those eyes that saw too much. "Thought maybe your mother might have found a way to keep you home."
A shadow must have crossed my face because his expression changed, turning concerned. "She thinks I'm checking the west fence line," I explained. "Won't expect me back for a while."
Dan nodded, seeming to understand what it had cost me to tell that lie. "Thank you," he said softly, "for coming."
I looked at his face—at his mouth, specifically—then quickly away, feeling heat crawl up my neck into my cheeks. I couldn't help remembering how I'd thought about kissing him, wondered what his lips would feel like against mine. The wanting was so strong it was almost a physical ache, but the fear was just as powerful.
"Harlow," Dan said, my name in his mouth sounding better than it ever had before. "I need to ask you something important."
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
"Do you want this?" he asked, gesturing between us. "Whatever this is between us? Because I need you to be sure. Idon't want just friendship from you, Harlow. I want everything—all of you. But only if that's what you want too."
My throat went dry at his words. Everything. All of me. The magnitude of what he was offering—what he was asking for—made my head spin.
"I'm not..." I started, then had to swallow hard to continue. "I'm not scared of wanting you. I'm scared Ma's right that I don't understand what I'm feeling. That I can't...that someone like me can't..."
"Someone like you?" Dan took another step closer, close enough now that I could feel the warmth coming off his body. "You mean someone with the biggest heart I've ever encountered? Someone who can read the land and sky better than anyone I've met? Someone who carried me through a storm without hesitation when I needed help?"
I blinked rapidly, surprised by the fierceness in his voice.
"Let me tell you what real feelings are like, Harlow," he continued, his eyes never leaving mine. "They're like your heart might burst when you're with someone. They're like an invisible thread pulling you toward another person no matter how many obstacles are in the way. They're like carrying someone through a storm because you can't bear the thought of them being hurt."
My breath caught in my throat. That was exactly how it felt—the bursting heart, the invisible thread, all of it. I nodded, unable to find words.
"That's real, Harlow," Dan said, reaching out slowly to take my hand. "What you feel is real. And no one—not your mother, not this town, not anyone—gets to tell you it isn't."
My free hand was trembling again, and my breathing had gone shallow. But it wasn't from fear anymore. It was from hope—bright and terrifying and more powerful than anything I'd felt before.
For the first time in my life, someone was telling me my feelings were real. That I wasn't confused or mistaken or "special" in a way that made me less than everyone else. I was just a man, standing in front of another man, wanting things I'd been told I shouldn't want.
And maybe, just maybe, that was okay.
Something broke loose inside me, like a branch finally giving way under the weight of too much snow. I didn't think about it—couldn't think about it—because if I did, I might lose my nerve. I just stepped forward, closing that last bit of space between us, and pressed my lips against Dan's. The world went silent for a heartbeat, and then exploded into feeling.
His lips were softer than I'd imagined, a surprising contrast to the rough stubble that scratched against my chin. For a moment, he went completely still, and I feared I'd done something wrong. But then his hands came up to cradle my face, his touch gentle but sure as he tilted his head and deepened the kiss.
I'd never kissed anyone before. Never wanted to. But this—this felt like finding something I hadn't known was missing. His scent surrounded me—pine soap and something uniquely him that reminded me of the woods after rainfall.
When his tongue traced the seam of my lips, seeking entrance, I opened to him with a deep groan that came from somewhere I didn't recognize in myself. His hands moved from my face to the back of my neck, fingers threading through my hair, holding me as if he was afraid I might disappear.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard. Dan's pupils were blown wide, just a thin ring of brown around the black. The sight made something warm unfurl in my chest—I'd done that to him. Me. Harlow McKenzie, the "slow" brother, the one who didn't understand grown-up feelings.
"I've been dreaming about doing that since the first moment I saw you," Dan confessed, his voice rough around the edges. His hands still rested against my neck, thumbs stroking along my jawline through my beard.
Uncertainty crept back in, making my shoulders tense. "Did I... did I do it right?" I asked, hating how childish the question sounded but needing to know anyway.
Dan's smile was the tenderest thing I'd ever seen, reaching all the way to his eyes and crinkling the corners. "Perfect," he assured me, brushing his thumb across my lower lip in a way that made me shiver. "You're perfect, Harlow."
Perfect. No one had ever called me that before. Plenty of other things—simple, slow, special, different—but never perfect.
Dan took my hand, our fingers intertwining like they had in the alley behind Rosie's, and led me to the fallen log nearby. We sat down together, our shoulders touching, hands still joined between us. The wood was smooth beneath us, worn by years of weather and visitors.
"We should talk about what happens next," Dan said, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "Because this—us—it's not going to be easy, Harlow. You know that, right?"
