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Gavin had thought about it when he’d fallen asleep last night, listening to Zach’s soft snores next to him, feeling the warm press of his body against Gavin’s. And he’d thought about it this morning, when he’d first woken up, ten minutes before the alarm.

He’d had that ten minutes to mull over the fact that it was his anniversary, his fifth without Noelle, and for the first time, he’d been sad, but he’d also been .

. .accepting. There was a bittersweet flavor to his thoughts, no question, but he hadn’t felt once like crawling back under the covers and disappearing from the world.

And if he had , he knew he’d have wanted Zach to be right there with him.

“Yeah, it is,” Gavin said.

There was no hiding it; Jon’s jaw dropped. “You remembered?”

Gavin shot him an incredulous look. “You thought I forgot? ”

“Well, no , not necessarily but I wondered. It’s a day you’ve historically struggled with. I thought it was why you’d made the appointment today.”

Gavin realized, suddenly, why Zach had been quiet today. Why he’d told him he’d be in the library all afternoon and evening. Why he’d kissed Gavin goodbye this morning and then essentially disappeared.

Yes, he had homework and his classes, but it was the first time he’d been so silent.

God, this was why Gavin loved him so much. He was giving Gavin the space to grieve, even if Gavin didn’t need it anymore.

He’d had his ten minutes, and that had been enough for today.

“Shit, I think Zach was thinking the same,” Gavin said, groaning. “He’s been quiet all day. Especially after I mentioned I had therapy.”

“You really don’t want to talk about it,” Jon stated rather than asked.

“I . . .it’s not that I don’t miss her. Or I didn’t love her.

I did and I do, every day. But . . .you know how you sometimes tell me about the fullness of grief?

I let it invade my whole life and run it, no questions, no checks and balances, for years.

I couldn’t do it anymore. Not only that . . .I didn’t want to do that anymore.”

Jon smiled.

“And I think,” Gavin added, before Jon could say I told you so , “that this whole time, every time we talked, for years, this was what this was leading to. Me not wanting grief to run my whole life anymore. For me to accept it and give it a corner in my mind and in my heart and to say, leave the rest of me alone. ”

“Yes,” Jon said. He was smiling bigger now, maybe bigger and brighter than Gavin had ever seen him smile before.

“Well. Damn.” Gavin felt it too but then he wasn’t blind enough to believe that he hadn’t been here, even without realizing it, for some time.

“Proud of you, Gavin,” Jon said.

Gavin took a deep breath and said, “Proud of me, too.”

“That guy of yours is good for you. And you’re good for him, too. You did a lot of the hard work, the toughest work, before you met him again, but because you did, you were ready for it.”

“I . . .” Gavin trailed off. If he was going to say he was in love with Zach, he was going to do it to Zach first, not his therapist. He was too emotionally healthy to fuck this up, now. “You know how I feel about him but I haven’t told him yet so I think I’d better wait.”

“Good call. And, Gavin?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t doubt it, okay? Because I’ve seen it in your face, every time you talk about Zach, for months now. He’s special, and even more than that, he’s special to you .”

“Don’t have to tell me that,” Gavin said.

He barely was hung up with Jon before he had his phone out, sending Zach a handful of texts.

Where are you?

You’re not avoiding me because it’s February 1, are you?

If you are, we need to talk. I’m home. Will be home the rest of the day. Come find me.

Zach’s phone buzzed on the desk next to his laptop. He was trying to get ahead on his reading—taking notes, outlining possible essay topics, anything to avoid thinking of what Gavin was going to be thinking about today.

He glanced down at his phone, surprised the texts were from Gavin.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t realized February 1 was approaching. He had. But they’d also been so busy with the team and the power play changes and then there had been their relationship—which was incredible and so much hotter in the bedroom than Zach had ever anticipated.

It had been so easy to lose himself to it, to pretend that everything was going to be okay—that it was okay—then all of a sudden, the next day was February 1, and Gavin was casually mentioning having a therapy call in the afternoon and everything inside Zach had frozen.

He’d seemed fine, kissing Zach goodnight with the same sweet enthusiasm that he always did.

Zach had spent a mostly sleepless night trying to figure out what the fuck he should do, and the only answer he’d come up with was maybe it was for the best if he gave Gavin the space he needed.

He’d told Zach that he wasn’t going to be perfect at this. Zach had understood that to mean he was still going to grieve for his wife, and that was more than okay, it was totally expected.

He never once felt like Gavin wasn’t really happy with him, now, and that was all that mattered, really.

But still, he’d spent the whole day with a knot in his stomach. Not worried, exactly, that Gavin would live through this anniversary and decide, at the end of it, that he didn’t want to be with Zach after all. But that he’d be sad. That he’d remember how it felt to be so miserable.

If Gavin’s mind was that changeable, he never would have told Sidney about them. They wouldn’t be planning the best way to tell the team.

No—Gavin was in this.

And if his texts were any indication . . . come find me , Gavin had said.

That was the easiest thing in the whole damn world.

Zach shoved his laptop into his backpack and took off like a shot.

He half-jogged, half-speed walked to Gavin’s house, and once he got there, hesitated on the porch. He had the door code now and let himself in all the time, but this was February 1.

But then, what had Gavin said? Zach fumbled for his phone. You’re not avoiding me because its February 1, are you? was written there, right in black and white. Like Gavin was surprised that Zach would give him space. Like he was goddamn surprised that Zach might think he needed space.

Zach opened the door.

Gavin was on the couch, the Knights-Oilers game on the TV, playing at a low volume. He glanced up as Zach toed off his sneakers and set down his backpack.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” Zach replied, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He didn’t move to take the seat next to Gavin, even though he knew he should .

Zach didn’t know why he was suddenly so nervous. He’d been trying to do the right thing in a prickly situation.

He could never be Gavin’s wife. He didn’t think Gavin even wanted him to be Noelle, but if he could only be Zach, what did that mean ? Before today, he’d thought he’d known, but the deeper they got into this, the harder the question was to dismiss. The more impossible it was to answer.

Gavin raised an eyebrow. “So this was about you avoiding me today, then?”

Of course Gavin would cut right through the awkwardness with blunt honesty.

“Um, yeah, well, sort of,” Zach said, grimacing at his own indecision. He took a deep breath. If Gavin could tell the truth, he could, too. “Yeah. It was.”

Gavin patted the couch next to him. “Come. Sit down. Let’s talk about this.”

What else could Zach do but what Gavin asked? He didn’t even want to fight it. He understood, maybe a little better now, when they were in bed, pressed together skin to skin, kissing like it was going out of style, why Gavin let him take control.

“First off,” Gavin said and leaned in, brushing a tender kiss across Zach’s mouth. “Hi, again.”

He pulled back, but Zach chased him, kissing him more firmly, now that he knew it was okay. Gavin made a soft, rumbling noise of satisfaction in the back of his throat as they kissed, Zach’s tongue in his mouth, Gavin’s fingertips digging into his shoulders .

But just when Zach began the internal debate of whether they should take this to the bedroom or just fuck on the couch, Gavin pulled back.

“I said we should talk,” Gavin said, looking amused and also aroused. He licked his lips, and Zach almost leaned in again.

But he was trying to be an adult about this, not just a horny teenager who’d finally figured out that his crush was mutual.

“We can talk,” Zach said.

Gavin took a deep breath, settling back on the couch, too far away from Zach already. “I know what you were trying to do, and I appreciate the gesture. I can’t say this day wasn’t hard for me, every other year.”

Zach didn’t say anything, because what was there to say? Gavin was always going to grieve his wife, and part of Zach didn’t even want it to be different because that loyalty, that depth of feeling, was part of what made Gavin Gavin. Part of what made him the man that Zach was so gone for.

“But,” Gavin continued, “I didn’t need you to give me space. It wasn’t . . .it’s gotten easier to compartmentalize the grief. To feel it and then put it away, where it belongs, in a box on the shelf. I’m probably never going to not feel it, but it doesn’t need to run my life, anymore.”

“That sounds . . .really healthy,” Zach said slowly.

“My therapist told me I put the work in, and he’s right.

I did. That was a lot of it. But you also reminded me that I wasn’t dead yet, either.

As a friend and as more.” Gavin exhaled, his gaze so soft.

“So much more. You have to know . . .maybe I brought myself back, most of the way, but that last ten percent? I did it, because you were so freaking irresistible. ”

Zach grinned. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Gavin rolled his eyes, but he was so fond. “I told myself I didn’t want to feel this way ever again, but it happened anyway. I couldn’t even stop it, and the truth is, I didn’t want to. It feels so good. You make me so happy.”