Sam was so upbeat and positive about the future of Dalton’s relationship with Tierney that Dalton left the restaurant with much less apprehension. It could work, and the thing about not getting into a relationship was only a suggestion. He’d support Tierney however the man needed, Dalton had no doubt about it—he’d spent most of his life in a supporting role. He was good at support. Even liked it.
He had to wait half an hour for the bus that would take him to his neighborhood, and right before it arrived, it began sprinkling. The shower wasn’t worth digging out his umbrella for, but halfway home, the clouds really opened up and began dumping water. The rain was coming down in sheets, and even with an umbrella the two-block walk from his stop to his apartment left him damp from his knees to his toes. Dalton put his head down and hurried, just glancing up enough to navigate, around the next corner and then up the stairs to the little covered porch—
Where a man stood, waiting.
There was no split second of alarm over who it could be; Dalton knew that stance too well. It was Tierney, slouching against the wall, hands shoved into his pockets. Appearing as dejected as he had that first time he’d waited for Dalton in the parking garage.
All his apprehensions came back in a rush, but multiplied and stronger. He had to force himself to continue the last few steps. “Hey,” he said, stopping in front of Tierney. “Um, what are you doing here?”
“We have to talk.” Tierney didn’t lift his chin, and his voice was barely louder than the rain hitting the ground.
Oh no. Dread washed through him, prickling down from his scalp to his toes. “Okay.”
“I’m soaking,” Tierney added when Dalton didn’t move.
Dalton nodded, focusing on unlocking the door, then walking upstairs, Tierney behind him, to his apartment. The whole time, his heart was breaking because Sam had been wrong and all his fears had been right.
Maybe it’s something else.
Except there was nothing else.
I can’t have this. He couldn’t have the relationship or the man, or anything. Should’ve known.
Once he’d entered his place, holding the door open as Tierney walked in, Dalton fell back on etiquette. “Can I get you anything? Maybe, um, a towel?” Tierney didn’t answer, just stood in the entryway, dripping. A droplet per second, falling from the cuffs of his jacket onto Dalton’s wood floor, hitting the ground with soft plops. Like a clock, counting the moments until Tierney ended what they had.
“I don’t want to give you up,” Dalton whispered, gripping the doorknob tighter. He should shut it, but he’d just have to open it again when Tierney left him.
“I don’t . . .” The sound of Tierney swallowing made a weird counterpoint to the rhythm of water drops. “Me neither.”
For a second, hope burned inside Dalton, strong enough to make him lift his head and meet Tierney’s eyes. Then it died, because it was so obvious that don’t want to was not the same as don’t have to.
Plop. Dalton’s attention was pulled back to the droplets. They were slowing down. More than a second between each one. Ending.
“Dr. Palmer said—” Tierney took a shuddering breath. “She pointed out . . . I have feelings for you, like, serious ones. Love ones.”
“I have love feelings for you too.” He had to say it, because if this was going to end, he wasn’t going to hide from the pain. He wasn’t an eighteen-year-old losing his parents. He was an adult losing the man he loved, and that had the potential to destroy him if he tried to outrun it.
“See, we’re already in a relationship.”
“Yes,” Dalton agreed, then bit his lower lip, hard, trying to distract his heart from its pain. Plop. Another drop. Dalton watched, holding his breath, waiting for the next one to form and then fall.
“And that’s . . .”
“Dangerous to your recovery.”
“It’s— I gotta take care of myself. I mean, what you said before, about not wanting to give this up, I don’t either. I don’t.” His voice went ragged, like the sharp edges of life were slicing it to shreds. “But if it means drinking—”
“It’s okay.”
Tierney’s hand fisted, and one of the rain droplets snaked down between his thumb and finger. “It’s not okay. I don’t want this, but I don’t want you to be with the kind of guy I used to be.”
Let me decide that. Except he couldn’t say it, because Dalton himself couldn’t be with that guy. Then he would be repeating his past.
“So,” Tierney sighed, and opened his hand, hyperextending his fingers for a second, as if forcing them to relax.
One more drop trembled on the edge of his sleeve.
Plop.
“Meow.”
Blue came meandering toward them, head lifted to Tierney. “Meow.” Then he leaped into the air, hair standing up on his back, and Dalton thought things were about to get ugly. He stepped between his pet and his man to protect Tierney, but it was unnecessary. False alarm. Blue settled on his haunches and rapidly flicked one of his front paws, trying to get rid of the water he’d stepped in.
“How come he’s not attacking me?” Tierney asked, tickling the fine hairs on Dalton’s nape with his breath.
“I don’t know.” Dalton shook his head. “He’s never not hissed at someone other than me.” How completely, bitterly ironic that the person his cat had decided to accept was the one man Dalton couldn’t have. Blue didn’t care about that, though—he finished licking his damp fur, then he wandered off, tail waving lazily.
Tierney’s cold fingers were suddenly on the back of his neck, making Dalton flinch, but he didn’t pull away.
“I’m sorry.” Tierney made a choking noise. “I really do, you know, love you.” His lips brushed Dalton’s ear, and his arms came around him, squeezing him, fingers digging into his side.
“I know.” He placed his hands over Tierney’s, as if it could steady his voice. “I love you too.”
Tierney held him tighter, which was always what happened before someone let go, wasn’t it?
They stood like that forever, or at least a minute, and the whole time Dalton had to fight not to turn around. He wanted to bury his head in Tierney’s neck and let out the hurt inside him. But using the man as a crutch while he was trying to move beyond this part of his life just seemed cruel. They were doing this so he wouldn’t hurt.