Page 43 of Regret Me Not

Pierce almost said it out loud, which was ludicrous because he only had four or five things, tops, that he could make without embarrassment. One of them was ham. “Yeah,” he choked. “Of course. You’d tell me, right?”

“Tell you what?”

Hal poked the contents of the slow cooker with the wooden spoon next to it and breathed in rapturously. “The meat’s falling apart. Can I eat? It looks great. Let’s eat!”

“If you were going to end up homeless. If you had nowhere to go. You’d tell me. You’d say, ‘Hey, can I have some help here, ’cause we’re friends and lovers and I know you don’t want me to be alone and homeless and alone.’”

Hal looked over his shoulder. “You’d tellme, right? If you were going back to Sacramento to be alone and not homeless but still alone.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Pierce rasped. He could see himself clearly, in his little house with the big yard, with no Cynthia, working until the wee hours of the night, until his body knotted up and he could barely move, all to avoid the sound of his house when there was nobody there.

Hal left the roast alone to kiss his cheek. “Sure it is,” he said softly. “But I’ve got more than enough to rent an apartment and live on my own, so don’t worry about it. Let’s eat.”

Wabbit season.

Duck season.

Lonely season.

Fuck season.

Wanting season.

Suck it season.

Crying season.

Denying season.

Pierce was beginning to see why that bit always ended in “Bang!”

HAL’S WHIMPERSwoke him up at 4:00 a.m.…

“Wha—?”

“Sorry.” Even in the dark, Pierce could hear his teeth chattering. “Bad dream.”

Pierce rolled over and pulled him close. He’d put on boxers after lovemaking that night, but Hal was still bare and naked, vulnerable under their little blanket fort. Pierce wrapped his arms around his shoulders and tried to be his human shield.

“Shh. It’s okay, baby. Don’t worry. Nobody’s going to hurt you.”

Except you, Pierce, you cowardly coward who cowers.

Hal didn’t say it—maybe he didn’t even think it. But it was there, drifting between Pierce’s ears, even as Hal settled down and fell asleep.

THE WEEKpassed so quickly. Aqua, rubdowns, walks that grew longer and longer. Pierce had always assumed that a vacation with nothing to do would be a death sentence of boredom—but not with Hal. Sitting in front of the television was a treat. Surfing the net or working was a treat.

Just hearing him breathe in the same room was a treat.

And after his mysterious trips to clean out the condo—and how much damage could he have done in two days? Pierce was starting to be seriously concerned—greeting Hal as he walked in the doorway was like Christmas and his birthday rolled into one.

Except on Christmas, Pierce would be gone, and Hal would be here, in his condo. With parents who could turn the heat off at any moment.

December 22, Pierce got a text from Sasha:

You’re coming, right? Have you booked a car?

Pierce looked at the text and grimaced. Yes, he should probably try to book a car ahead of time.