“Yourself?” David suggested, brows arched.
“I felt like all four of the characters inWizard of Oz,” Colin said with a tired smile.“Looking for parts of myself: my courage, my brain, my heart.” He turned to Joshua, who stood besidehim, smiling. “Although I never have to look far for my heart.” He bent and kissed him. “Mo chroí,” he whispered, then turned back to David and Nate. “And like Dorothy, I found my way home.”
“Did you tell him?” Nate asked, poking Joshua’s arm, his voice dancing with excitement.
Colin gave Joshua a puzzled look as they sank back to the couch. “Tell mewhat?”
Nate fell onto the couch opposite them, nearly bouncing, while David walked to the liquor cabinet and poured four glasses ofveryfine Cognac. “This moment calls for a toast.”
“Yeah?” Colin said, smiling as he took Joshua’s hand. “OK, spill! What’s up?” He winked. “Youpregnant?”
“Oh, lord god!” Joshua sputtered, giving Colin’s arm a soft smack.
David handed each of them a brandy snifter, then sat down next to Nate. “Josh? This is your moment.”
Joshua drew in a trembling breath, then turned to face Colin. “This will be our last night in David and Nate’s wonderful home.”
Colin’s mouth fell open. He didn’t speak, but the brandy glass in his hand trembled.
“Tomorrow we’re going home, myyedid.”
“H—home?” Colin stammered. “To our—ourhouse? It’s–it’sfixed? It’s ready? Honest to god, Josh?”
“It’s not finished,” Joshua told him, reaching to caress his cheek. “There’s still a lot of interior work to be done. Kitchen cupboards aren’t up yet. Other stuff too. Mostly cosmetic like wallpaper, paint”—he smiled and lifted his brandy glass—“curtains.” Then he sipped. “But it’s… livable.”
“All our stuff…” Colin began.
“Back from Mara’s restoration team. Everything she could save—and it was a lot—is home again.”
“Mysuits?”
“All cleaned and ready to wear.”
“Myweddingsuit?”
“Like it was the day we got married, my love.”
“No smoke smell?”
“A tiny bit here and there, but that will pass in time.” Joshua set his brandy glass down and clasped Colin’s face between his palms. “Not everything is perfect, my darling husband. Some things,” he hesitated and lowered his head, then lifted it and met Colin’s eyes, and when he spoke, his voice was choked, strangled. “Some things will never be the same. But then again, neither will we, so it all seemed to fit.”
The brandy snifter in Colin’s hand trembled again, and Joshua gently took it from him, setting it on the table. For a long moment, Colin’s gaze locked with Joshua’s. Then he nodded, his eyes filling with tears. “We swore we’d take every step of this journey together, but we both ended up on pilgrimages of our own, didn’t we,mo chroí?”
Joshua didn’t speak. He leaned in, forehead resting against Colin’s, his breath warm between them. For a long moment, they simply sat—hands entwined, hearts still catching up, tears streaking their faces. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he said: “Yes. We did, my love.” He kissed the corner of Colin’s mouth. “But I would walk it all again, every single step, if it brought you home to me.”
The next morning broke gently,with a warm wash of light pouring through the tall windows in David’s dining room. The kind of light that didn’t demand anything—just offered quiet company. Colin sat at the kitchen table, hair still damp fromhis shower, a cup of coffee between his hands, steam curling up around his face.
Joshua was downstairs packing, folding their things with the same careful reverence one might use when tucking away a beloved keepsake. Colin could hear drawers opening and closing in a slow, deliberate rhythm.
In the kitchen, Nate moved with the precision of a man on a mission, cracking eggs with military-like efficiency while simultaneously buttering toast and adding chopped chives to the pan. David stood at the espresso machine, muttering dark threats at its blinking light.
“I heard that,” Nate called over his shoulder without turning. “Don’t insult the espresso machine before it’s had a chance to do its thing.”
Colin huffed a soft laugh into his coffee. His body still ached, and his bones felt heavier than usual, but the sight of Nate fussing and David brooding was a balm. Something about their rhythm—comfortable, lived-in—settled into the air like a lullaby.
Joshua appeared, his bag slung over one shoulder, and leaned against the doorframe. “The suitcases are in the hall by the door, and the jacket’s packed,” he said. “So do not panic.”
Colin gave him a crooked smile. “I make no promises.”
