Page 79 of True North
“It’s done, get plates,” Misha said. He turned his head for a quick kiss. This was going to be fine.
The weather was nice, so they went out to eat on the deck. JT made a sound of surprised pleasure at his first bite of spaghetti, then rapidly emptied his bowl and went back for seconds. “This is amazing,” he said through a mouthful of pasta. “Why didn’t I know you could cook like this? Why aren’t you cooking for me every day?”
“Lazy,” Misha said, and JT laughed.
When they were done eating, JT stacked their empty bowls together and said, “So tell me what’s going on.”
Misha drew a breath. He could see the wariness in JT’s expression, the anticipation of hurt. But he resisted the temptation to say nothing and bury his doubts. He needed to do what was best for himself. He couldn’t be the person JT deserved if he made himself miserable in the process.
“I want to say—it’s not because I’m not happy with you, or because I don’t want to be together. I’m so happy, every day.” He reached across the table to touch JT’s hand. “But I think when you go to Toronto, I should stay here.”
“Oh.” JT squinted at him. “You’re not breaking up with me?”
“No! No.” Misha shook his head vigorously. “I want to, like—get old together, with you. But not yet. I need, um.” He tried to remember the careful phrases he had planned. “I need to be myself for a while. I need to remember how I’m myself. I think if I’m in Toronto, I just sit at home all day, I don’t go out, I just—” He spread his open hands. “You know?”
“You think you would be isolated,” JT said. “Is that it?”
Misha nodded. “Yeah. And I’m still—” He tapped his breastbone. “The bear is still here, right under my skin. He’s still scared. Maybe I can move to Toronto in a year, two years. But first I need to be less scared.”
“Okay.” JT looked out at the lake for a minute, his lips pressed together. Misha’s stomach felt hard and heavy, as if it had been replaced by a stone. Then JT sighed. “You’re getting to know people here. All the shifters. But there are shifters in Toronto, aren’t there? And lots of Russians.”
“But I have to start all over,” Misha said. “And I’m, um.” He had looked up the word, and it came to him after a moment. “Dependent. I would be so dependent on you, for everything. I think it’s not good for me. I think it’s best to stay here, get a job, get some place to live, learn to take care of myself.”
JT sighed again and rubbed his eyes. “Okay. I can see why you feel that way. To be honest with you, I’ve got some work to do on myself, too. It might be good for both of us if we don’t jump in feet first right away.” He smiled ruefully at Misha. “You’ll come visit me, though, right?”
“Yeah, as much as you like,” Misha said, so grateful and relieved that JT seemed to understand. “Every month.”
“Every week,” JT said, his smile much less rueful now. “No, I’m kidding. It’s a quick flight, though. We can see each other a lot.”
“So much,” Misha said. He reached for JT’s hands again and laced their fingers together. The stone in his belly was gone, replaced by a balloon or a bubble, lighter than air.
“And then we’ll grow old together,” JT said. “Eh?”
“Stop,” Misha said, embarrassed to have his words thrown back at him. He knew it was far too soon to say or even feel such a thing, but he couldn’t help himself. JT was his true north.
JT wouldn’t release his hands when Misha tried to draw back. “No, hey. That’s what I want, too. You’re just braver than I am, to actually say it.” He pulled Misha’s hands toward him and bent to kiss his knuckles. “I can’t wait.”
Misha squeezed JT’s hands, overcome, and blinked hard to clear his vision. He was luckier than he had any right to be. He still had almost a month to enjoy being with JT, and after that he would enjoy being by himself for a while. And after that—what came after that? Anything he liked. Everything he wanted.
“It’s going to be a good life,” Misha said.
Epilogue
Misha turned on his phone as soon as the plane touched down. As expected, JT had sent him a whole slew of messages while his plane was in the air:Can’t wait to see youandText me as soon as you landandDo you want anything special from the store?followed shortly byNever mind, we can always order groceries later.The final message read,Going to order pizza for dinner tonight ;)
Outrageous. Misha had spent several days in Toronto only a month ago, but JT was acting like Misha was returning from ten years in the desert.
Who was he kidding: he loved it.
Plane landed, he sent.Come get me!!!Then he added a bunch of heart emojis and a winking kissy face, because he loved to picture JT’s face as he read the message, pleased and flustered and trying hard to hide it.
Pearson was, as always, a shitshow. Even after a full season of visiting JT in Toronto, he still didn’t understand this stupid airport. It didn’t help that he seemed to fly into a different terminal and wing every time. JT’s face glowered at him from huge posters along the corridors: the playoffs were here, and the city’s hopes ran high and hot. This year, maybethisyear, they would win it all.
Misha had avoided saying anything at all to JT about the playoffs, but privately, he thought this would be their year. He had learned to love hockey, reluctantly at first and then wholeheartedly, and he thought the chances were good. The team had a strong lineup and had been dominant in the regular season. There was no reason they couldn’t go all the way.
Arrivals always made Misha think of a piranha tank, with cars honking and aggressively darting in and out of lanes. Canadians were on the whole far more polite and accommodating than Russians were, but airport terminals brought out the worst in everyone. He stood on the curb, craning his neck to search for JT’s car, which unfortunately was the same black SUV that half of Toronto seemed to drive. But then JT was there, waving at Misha through the windshield, grinning like he’d never been happier to see anyone.
Misha had never been happier to see anyone.