Charlie: Mostly.
A twig snapped behind me. I jumped to my feet. I don’t know what I expected, but my heart sank when I spotted Seamus withtwo coffee cups. He handed me one before taking the adjacent seat. Scouring the field between here and the house, I hoped Nick had gotten my message and turned around.
Defeated, I returned to my seat.
With the first sip, I realized my hot cocoa had been swapped for whisky. It forced a cough as it burned down my throat. When I came up for air, I had to smile. I recognized the whisky I had gifted Seamus.
Thanks to the fire… or the whisky, my toes had warmed. I watched Seamus, the way his eyes gleamed from the dying fire. He fell somewhere between rugged and dashing. For a moment, I swore I could see Pops sitting there. I preferred that image over the sight of him in a hospital bed. How well had they known one another? Had they sat here drinking whisky, enjoying the silence?
“Want advice?”
Seamus wielded words as if they were finite. When I glanced over, he had his eyes fixed on the fire. He didn’t pay me any attention. I waited for him to offer advice, regardless. He didn’t speak another word as he sipped his whisky. If silence were a game, I played to win. Against Seamus? I’m not sure I’d emerge the victor.
“Yeah.”
He took another sip. I wouldn’t say it aloud, but I could use some advice from the elder male variety. My life needed guidance that would reveal a path forward and set me loose. It seemed as if everything was up and the air, and something…anythingwould be a welcome perspective.
“Go.”
“Huh?”
“To him.”
Oh, dating advice. “Nick needs his space.”
Seamus huffed. “I said the same thing.” Seamus didn’t smile often. I wondered if we hid behind stoic faces for similar reasons. The only time it cracked was when he looked at Patrick. His lips almost touched his ears. “He didn’t listen.”
I didn’t want to intrude and suffocate. The thought held firm, a barrier preventing me from moving forward. I hadn’t noticed my finger tracing the same line on my thigh that Nick had.
Had Seamus shown me the path? Why didn’t I run? What if?—
“Is the space for him? Or you?”
Seamus didn’t just reveal a path; he stood behind me and landed a toe in the crack of my ass. After that first kiss, I wondered “what if?” We shared a moment in the woods. But the next step? Admitting that I wanted more?—
I stood. “Thanks.”
Seamus nodded. “Pops would be proud.”
He reached over, taking my mug and pouring it into his. He didn’t offer another word. I knew the path. Across the field. Through the house. Into my car. Into town. The front door of Valhalla. I’d figure it out from there. It only required?—
I took the first step across the field.
THIRD FLOOR, 3B
My fist didn’t hesitate. Knock. Knock. Knock.
The adrenaline had worn off, and the doubts returned. I stood on the porch of Valhalla with no plan. Driving here, knuckles white, I forced myself forward. I pushed logic aside. What if… No.
I prepared to repeat the gesture.
“Yes?”
“Hi.” I tried smiling. The anxiety pushed common sense aside. “I need to?—”
“Third floor. 3B.” I froze at the innkeeper’s response. How had she— “You’re not the first man to barge in a romantic gesture.” She opened the door and gestured for me to come inside. “Wipe your shoes.”
It was like any other home in Firefly. It had a cozy charm accented by the scent of synthetic pine. The moment it hit my nostrils, I was transported to the woods, to a single moment when I said, fuck it. I wanted to fall asleep with him tracing my tattoos.
