Later, tangled in sheets and each other, the silence stretched long and warm.
Colin exhaled against Joshua’s neck. “Thank you, my love.”
Joshua’s fingers curled around his. “And thankyou, myyedid.”
And neither of them let go. They just held on.
The world outside had gone still—just the hush of the river, the occasional creak of the house settling, and the slow, steady rhythm of their breathing.
Colin lay half draped over Joshua, one leg hooked between his, their fingers still entwined. His face rested against Joshua’s chest, listening to the steady beat beneath his ear.
Joshua’s hand moved over his back—no urgency. No expectation. Just touch, just presence.
“I missed this,” Joshua whispered.
“This?” Colin murmured sleepily.
Joshua’s fingers stilled. “You. Us. This quiet.” His fingers moved again, delicate and loving. “God, Colin, I ached for you while you were gone. I was… just so damn”—he drew in a breath that quaked in his chest—“lonely.”
Colin shifted just enough to kiss the place where Joshua’s neck met his shoulder. “I know, darling. Me too,” he murmured. “God, me too.”
They didn’t speak after that. Words felt too heavy, and everything that mattered had already been said in breath and hands and the way they’d clung to each other like lifelines.
Eventually, Joshua reached behind himself with his free hand and pulled the edge of the blanket over them. It smelled faintly of detergent and something that might have been cedar. The room had settled into stillness, save for the soft rhythm of their breathing and the faint creak of the wind outside.
Colin shifted, curling one arm beneath Joshua’s head, the other draped possessively around his waist. He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to.
Joshua’s fingers traced idle circles on Colin’s chest—slow, steady, familiar. After a moment, he let out a long breath and nestled closer.
No declarations. No promises.
Just this: two hearts beating side by side, finally at rest.
And in that silence, the future waited—warm, unwritten, theirs.
Colin dipped his head, breath brushing Joshua’s temple. “Mo ghrá thú,” he whispered.
Joshua didn’t open his eyes. Just whispered back, “Agus tú mise.”
Mo ghrá thú- You are my love.
Agus tú mise -And you’re mine.
CHAPTER TWENTY
THE WEIGHT OF GOING BACK
Colin crouched low beneath the upper cabinet, holding it steady while Graham anchored the final screws. The drill’s whine echoed off bare Sheetrock, then cut to silence.
Graham stepped back, eyes sharp. “That one’s not level.”
“I know.” Colin reached for the rubber mallet, testing the frame with his fingers. “Frame’s bowed on the right side. I’ll shave it down.”
He worked in silence, the scent of pine dust thick in the air. He ran his fingers along the edge of the cabinet, feeling the imperfection more than seeing it. He picked up the block sander and began to work—steady, rhythmic strokes, the sound harsh at first, then smoothing into something almost meditative.
His father’s voice came back to him unbidden:Don’t trust your eyes, Col. Trust your hands.He did.
“Did cabinet work before?” Graham asked, watching him.
