“Sure could.” Dale’s smile was proud, as it had every right to be. “Got me a little woodworking shop next to the barn. It’s got heat and running water and tools. Everything I need.”
“I’d like it built rather than bought,” said Pete. He was sliding into darkness so fast that it almost felt as though he was falling. And he was falling, for he’d stood up, and strong arms caught him, effortless and sure and true. “And you’ll teach me, right? I don’t wanna be an accountant anymore–”
He stopped, pressing close to Dale as they stepped through a doorway into where Pete had been sleeping before. He waited as Dale steadied him on his feet, took the robe away, knelt to take off the wool lined slippers. Waited while Dale took off hisblue jeans so he was dressed only in the flannel shirt and pale blue boxers.
Pete hadn’t even started to wobble and fall over before Dale had tucked him into the bed and then slid in beside him, reaching to turn off the bedside light. And there, in the darkness, Dale’s arms came around him, warm and steady, a gentle hand guiding his head to rest on Dale’s shoulder.
“It’s you and me now, Pete,” said Dale’s voice, almost disembodied from the warmth that encircled Pete completely. “Like it always was.”
In spite of the newness of what Dale said, Pete didn’t doubt the words or their truth, a finality from which he would never return, never turn away from, never regret agreeing to in a soft murmur, his lips kissing Dale’s cheek before he sank back. He’d found his way home. After many years and living a false life, he’d found his way home to Dale.
The End
