Page 10 of Beyond the Rainbow (Pride Camp 2025 #11)

Tending the Heart

“ G oddammit, Jeff!” Trent Peterson snapped, slapping the kitchen faucet to turn it on.

He glared down, sending a spritz of water into the sink, scattering a layer of coffee grounds that swirled several times before flowing down the drain.

He leaned against the sink, watching the grounds vanish into its copper surface.

Great metaphor. I’m watching my life disappear down the drain.

My relationship. My happiness. Ahhh, fuck!

He glanced around the kitchen, feeling the apartment’s emptiness swell within him, a hollow ache expanding in his gut.

Jeff had left for CIA headquarters early that morning.

His promise to be home in time to eat dinner with himself and Sophie had been yanked from him like a rotten tooth, and—recalling the conversation—Trent spat out a frustrated curse.

“I shouldn’t have pushed. Now he’s pissed, and so am I. ”

It had started late the night before. Trent had never been any good at covering up his feelings, particularly ones that signaled anger or hurt.

And last night’s conversation had ticked both boxes.

Goaded by his daughter’s confusion and pain as much as by his own sadness, Trent had once again brought up the subject of marriage.

And Jeff had once again stepped back—not physically, but in every way that mattered.

His shoulders went tight, his jaw clenched just enough to be noticeable, and his gaze flickered away, landing somewhere else .

Anywhere else. It wasn’t avoidance in the obvious sense—Jeff didn’t storm off, didn’t snap, or push Trent away.

Didn’t outright refuse him. No, his retreats were quieter, subtler.

The way his voice flattened, his words becoming measured and distant like he was already building the wall between them brick by brick, shutting Trent out before he could get too close.

Trent recognized the pattern all too well. And even though he could see it happening in real time, he still felt blindsided.

Jeff hated these conversations—not because he didn’t love Trent, but because the idea of marriage stirred something deep and unresolved in him. Something uncomfortable, something he wasn’t ready to look at too closely.

And that was the heart of it. Trent wanted Jeff to look at it. To face it . To stop sidestepping and deflecting and pretending that this wasn’t an open wound in their relationship.

But Jeff wasn’t ready. Maybe he’d never be ready.

And that— that —was what made Trent’s frustration feel like a fist pressing into his ribs.

Because it wasn’t just about him; it was about his daughter, about the family they had built together.

About all the ways Jeff was already his, in every way but the one Trent needed him to be.

And so, like every time before, the conversation ended the same way: with Jeff retreating. And Trent standing there, feeling like he’d just been dismissed. Again.

“Goddammit, why doesn’t he nurture me the same way he does his damned plants!” He exhaled slowly, raking a hand through his hair. I can’t let him just walk away. Either we’re together, or we’re not. I can’t—I won’t—keep living in Adam’s shadow.

“Meet me for lunch!”

“Jeff, I don’t know if I can. I’m in the middle of a complicated fraud case, and I?—”

“Fuck the case, Colin! I need to talk to you. Please. It’s important. Meet me at McCafferty’s?” A long, weary sigh was Colin’s only reply. “I’m buying,” Jeff offered, and he heard Colin snort out a laugh.

“You’re damned right you are. If you’re going to get me bitched out by my boss, you can bet you’re going to pay for it.”

“See you at noon?”

“I wish you’d called my landline.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s so much more satisfying when I hang up on you.”

“Noon, Colin.” He heard an unintelligible growl seconds before the line went dead.

“Stubborn, goddamn Irishman …” Jeff muttered, his words trailing off into a sigh.

He tossed the phone to his desk and forced his gaze back to his computer screen, which was covered with intelligence briefs compiled from either human intelligence, satellite imagery, intercepted communications, or cyber intelligence.

He focused on the information in front of him, pushing aside thoughts of his upcoming lunch with Colin and the tension between himself and Trent.

It was his responsibility to identify which pieces of intelligence required immediate attention, and he couldn’t afford any distractions.

Sorting through potential threats, ongoing investigations, and emerging global events was far more tedious than most people might think, but the consequences of overlooking something, even something minor, could be disastrous.

“That’s why I make the big money,” he muttered, wincing as he rubbed his fingers across his forehead, still staring at the screen.

An upcoming vote in Idaho threatening to dissolve gay marriage might need a closer look.

“Goddamn, right-wing assholes,” he grumbled.

But the situation could easily spark protests that could turn ugly.

He felt a stab of pain as he elevated the threat level of this incident.

Protests. Outrage. Anger. He felt a surge of discomfort as he raised the alarm.

He recognized the pattern: lines drawn, sides taken.

He frowned and leaned back in his chair, his mind racing.

Goddammit, I don’t want that! I love Trent.

I want to marry him. I want Sophie to be my daughter.

I want us to be a real family. Not in some abstract, maybe-one-day way. Not as a possibility.

A tight knot of fear twisted in his gut.

But did Adam’s ghost still linger in the space where certainty should be?

He sank into the seat next to Colin, who was enjoying a large Reuben sandwich, and gestured toward the tall Irish stout beside his plate. “You allowed to drink on duty now?”

“I’m not a cop anymore, jackass. And in what world do attorneys not have a drink at lunch?” He picked up a French fry and stabbed it in Jeff’s direction. “I told them to hand you the bill.”

“Thanks for coming, Colin. I mean it.”

Colin shrugged. “What’s this about … as if I can’t guess.”

Jeff shot him a look.

“You singing your own version of ‘Wedding Bell Blues’?”

“Colin, I do want to marry him. But Jesus! Every time he brings it up, it’s like a six-foot-long icicle shoots right through my chest.”

“Jeff, you know what this is!”

Jeff nodded but gave no reply.

“And you know—you know —what Adam would say if he were standing here. I sure as hell know! And you also know that what you did to free Adam from his suffering was the right thing to do! The loving thing to do. So, what the hell is your problem?”

Jeff exhaled sharply, his fingers clenching around the edge of the table . “I—” He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Colin raised an eyebrow. “Try again.”

Jeff swallowed hard. “What if … Jesus, Colin, what if I marry Trent and it ends the same way?”

For a long time, Colin stared into his drink without speaking. Then, with a sharp inhale, he looked up and met Jeff’s eyes.

“I was in love with Josh almost from the moment we met. Head over heels. Needed him like I needed air. And still—every goddamn DAY —” His fist slammed down on the table with a sudden, explosive crack, making Jeff flinch.

“—I punished that sweet, beautiful soul with silence. With distance. With rejection so cold it should’ve shattered him. ”

He leaned in, voice rough. “I broke his heart every chance I got. And do you know why ? Because my sister took her own life. And I was terrified— terrified —that loving someone—or worse, letting someone love me —meant it would end the same way for them.”

Jeff stared at him, his hands curling into fists. His chest felt tight. He had no words—not yet.

Because he knew exactly what Colin meant.

Because for the first time, it wasn’t logic or bravado or courtroom fire.

It was soul-deep honesty from a man who almost never exposed this much of his inner anguish.

“Josh has told you ten thousand times that your fear is a natural, predictable reaction to what you went through, just as it was for me ! But there are therapists at Rainier who can help you move past those fears if you’ll stop being a stubborn jackass and let them help you !”

“You’re right. I had grief therapy before, and I know it helped. I’ll call my therapist and set up an appointment.”

Colin leaned toward him and laid a hand on his arm.

“Look, buddy. You really need to be talking to my husband about all this. Because if there’s anyone who could help you untangle the mess in your head, it’s him.

But I can tell you what I think he’d say: He’d say that marrying Trent is choosing to finally let go of the past and accept the fact that you actually do deserve happiness.

” He leaned back and picked up his stout.

“And this is what I have to say: You can keep saying no or, worse yet, saying nothing, every time Trent mentions marriage. And every time you do, you’ll come one step closer to losing him, too ! Is that what you want?”

“God, no!”

“Then you’d better sack up and give the man an answer.”

Jeff’s stomach twisted, a deep, aching pressure settling in his chest. He swallowed, but his throat felt tight.

Colin was right, and Jeff knew it. He’d known it for a long time.

But the truth of it—the inevitability of it—felt like standing on the edge of a cliff, staring down at a leap he wasn’t sure he could make.

“It’s not just Trent, you know,” Colin added, his voice growing suddenly soft.

“Your refusal to even discuss it is hurting Sophie , and you know how Trent feels about that girl. He won’t tolerate it for long.

If you don’t make a decision—and make it damned soon —you’ll be left with two big handfuls of regret and nothing else. ”

“Colin, you know how I feel about Sophie.”