by Josh Lanyon
Anyway, it was a great day. The best Taylor had in what seemed like months. He felt almost normal. It helped that Will had quit watching him like he expected him to detonate at any moment. Better yet, Will had stopped looking so drawn and weary. The shadows around his eyes were fading, the hard line of his mouth softening. Will had needed this trip.
Maybe they both had. Maybe Will was right about that.
In Hana they swam at Red Sand Beach and lunched at the Hana Farms fruit stand and restaurant, which, they agreed, served the best fish tacos either had ever had. They were watching cars zipping along the road when a red Ferrari went roaring past, driven by a guy in sunglasses, Hawaiian shirt, and old-school Magnum PI-style mustache.
They shared a sardonic glance, and then grinned because maybe the mind meld was rusty, but it was still working.
Taylor used his chopsticks to steal a slice of glazed bell pepper from Will’s plate.
Will’s mouth quirked, he fended off another foray of Taylor’s chopsticks, and said, “Do you think we made a mistake?”
“Which possible mistake are we talking about?”
“The global security consulting business.”
It was almost a relief to hear Will put it into words. “Yes. I do.”
Will snorted. “Just say what you think. Don’t worry about my feelings.”
“I think we made a mistake.”
Will sighed. “Me too. It bores the hell out of me. From meeting clients to asset control.”
“Me too. I was thinking it didn’t matter what we did as long as we did it together.”
“But it does,” Will agreed.
“It does, yeah. I don’t know what we can do about it, though. It’s going to take two years to pay Richard back even with Webster Fidelity.”
“There’s no way we can get our old jobs back. And even if we could…”
“We wouldn’t be working together. We’d be repartnered.”
Will was watching him carefully. “Does that still matter to you?”
“What?” Taylor frowned. “What do you mean? Of course it matters to me. That was the whole point.”
“It was before. But now?”
Taylor froze. “Now? Are you saying it doesn’t matter to you?”
“It matters, yes. But if we’re not…”
“If we’re not what?”
Will seemed to gather himself. He said stoically, “If we’re not going to be together, maybe it’s not the obstacle we’re thinking it is.”
The impact of Will’s words was weirdly similar to being shot. It was hard to get his breath, he felt cold all the way through, and the pain was incredible.
Taylor said unemotionally, “Good point.”
Will swallowed, gave a little okay then nod, stared out the open window.
They were quiet and careful, almost gentle with each other the rest of the day.
They had dinner at…well, really, what did it matter? One of the big hotels overlooking one of the big beaches. The food was great, the scenery beautiful, and Taylor felt numb to the bone. The way he had felt all afternoon after he realized Will wanted out.
Not that he blamed him.
He had not listened to Will’s concerns over Ashe. He had put Will in a position where he’d had to shoot to protect him—and Will was having nightmares about that. No surprise. So was Taylor.
He could have gotten Will killed.
No wonder Will was done.
Not that he hadn’t made mistakes too, but even after Paris, even after David Bradley, even after the pursuit of Webster Fidelity when they didn’t have the resources to pull it off, Taylor hadn’t been ready to throw in the towel.
It had been such a good start to the day. Such a great morning. He’d started thinking they might find their way home. But by lunch, Will had made it clear there was no going back.
“Are you okay?” Will asked over their after-dinner drinks. “You haven’t said anything in twenty minutes.”
Taylor pulled himself together, smiled, said, “I think I need some air. Maybe I’ll walk on the beach for a little bit. I can get a cab back to the inn.”
If anything, Will looked more concerned. “You want some company?”
Not really. And at the same time, yes, desperately, because if these were the last few days of being together, being a couple, then Taylor wanted every minute. Even if it made it harder in the end.
Honestly, what could be harder than what they were facing?
Taylor shrugged. “Sure.”
They paid their bill, left the restaurant, and walked down a long, sandy flight of stairs to the beach. It looked mostly deserted. A few distant couples with the same idea—or probably, a better idea. The night was cold, the coldest night yet, and Taylor was wishing Will would put his arm around him.
He almost missed a step, realizing that Will might never put his arm around him again. Will’s hand shot out, grabbing Taylor’s arm, steadying him.
“You didn’t have that much to drink.” There was a teasing note in his voice.
Taylor laughed. At least, he tried to make the pain blocking his throat sound like a laugh.
Once again, he could see Will looking at him, trying to read him, could feel Will’s concern, his kindness. Because even if they weren’t going to be together, Will would never stop caring about him. They would always be friends. Witness good old Lt. Commander David Bradley.
Who now had a good shot at having all his dreams come true.
They reached the soft, sandy floor of the beach, and Taylor strode off. Will followed. They walked just out of reach of the waves. It was chillier by the water, but the chill was better than the numbness.
He walked toward the huge silver moon, walked and walked and walked, and then finally sat down in the sand. It still felt warm from the sunny day.
Will sat beside him, shoulder brushing Taylor’s.
They said nothing, just watched the inky flood and retreat of glittery water against glittery shore.
There was so much Taylor wanted to say, but he didn’t know where to start, and what was the point now?
He could feel Will watching him. He turned to meet Will’s gaze. The moonlight threw everything into stark relief, making Will’s eyes look black and fathomless.
“What?” Taylor asked.
Will looked out toward the waves. His mouth curved, but there was no humor.
When he didn’t answer, Taylor said, “You’re going to think it’s funny. Until today, I didn’t realize you’d given up on us.”
“I don’t think it’s funny.” Will glanced at him. “And I would never give up on us. Except…”
“Except you have.”
“No.” There was pain in Will’s voice. “What do you think this trip was about?” He drew an oddly shaky breath. “But.”
“But what?”
“Do you really think you’ll ever forgive me?” Will’s voice was quiet. “Don’t you think this is always going to be between us?”
Initially, all Taylor heard was, This is always going to be between us. Then the first part of Will’s words sank in.
Honestly, regardless of anything else, he could not have Will go on thinking that Taylor blamed him for Ashe.
“No, Will. Jesus.” Taylor looked at him, shook his head, pained at the idea. “No, I don’t think that. There isn’t— That isn’t— Forgiveness isn’t in this, isn’t part of this—”
Will nodded, turned again to stare at the restless tumble of waves, as though Taylor’s stumbling inability to explain confirmed something for him. Taylor heard his words through Will’s ears and tried again, tried harder.
“Because there isn’t anything to forgive, Will. You said it yourself. I’d have made the same choice. It wasn’t even a choice, I guess. It was instinct. I know that. And if it had been the other way around, I’d probably have had the same…instinct.”
No probably about it. Will had called it last night in the hot tub.
That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt,
that it hadn’t been a shock. They were no strangers to violence, but it was still a gut punch, thinking about it, remembering that terrible moment. He still heard that shot in his dreams.
Will asked huskily, “But?”
“There isn’t any but.”
“Yeah, only there is. And I get it. You can’t help the way you feel.”
Yes, he had said that, and it was true. And it was easy to see why Will didn’t understand. “I also said I wasn’t…that I’m still…”
Had he said it, though? He had said he wasn’t leaving. He had said he didn’t blame Will. At least, he thought he had. Had he said in plain English that he was still emotionally invested in them? That, for better or for worse, when it came to Will, even wholesale slaughter probably wouldn’t shake the depth of his feelings?
Maybe not in so many words.
Maybe not in any words.
Taylor struggled with himself and finally managed to confess the truth. “I’m trying to come to terms with it. I ignored my own instincts—and yours—and insisted we take Ashe as our client. I pushed going to the house that night. I’m not forgetting. You tried to talk me out of it. I insisted we had to give him a chance to give himself up. You didn’t want to.”
Will broke in, “It’s not that I didn’t trust you. I know you think that.”
Taylor couldn’t help grimacing because yeah. That was true. He did believe that.
Will said, adamant, “It isn’t that. I know I’ve made mistakes, that mistake, before. But that night… I love you. I can’t— It’s not in me to stand aside. I did try. But, Taylor, that night you’d have made the same call. I know you would have.”
“Maybe.” Honesty compelled Taylor to say, “Probably.” He would not have let Will walk in there alone in the first place. That was the truth.
Will let out a little breath, like that was a bigger concession than he’d hoped for.
Taylor’s thoughts were running on a separate track. “It wasn’t that I was blind to the signs. But it’s not easy thinking that for all those years, Ashe hated me; hated me so much, he was willing to kill me.”
Will put a hand on his shoulder, gripped hard. “I’m sorry, Tay.”
“I know.”
“So sorry. About all of it.”
Taylor nodded. Said again, “I know.” Adding a moment later, “Me and you. That’s the thing I can’t forget. I dragged you into it and almost got you killed.”
That was the part that made it hard to sleep, to eat, to think. He hadn’t managed to help Ashe—Ashe was dead—and he’d nearly got Will killed too.
“You didn’t drag me into anything.”
“The hell, Will. Of course I did.”
“Like I haven’t dragged you into things? Christ.”
“Okay, that’s fair,” Taylor admitted.
Will groaned. “I know. Believe me, I know. I swear to God, Taylor, if you could give me another chance… I have changed. I know you don’t see it, but I have. That day I ran into David, I told him his friendship wasn’t worth losing you.”
It was probably childish that that concession meant so much.
“Is that true?” Taylor tried to read Will’s face.
“Yes. It is. I’m sorry it took me so long to realize what I was doing.”
Taylor, starting to feel uncomfortable, said, “It’s not like I ever thought you were—”
“I would never cheat on you. Never. Never betray you.”
Taylor really wasn’t that insecure. Will knew that, right? “I know that. I never thought that. You don’t have to choose—”
“There isn’t any choice,” Will interrupted. “That’s what I’m trying to say. There never has been. It’s you. It’s always going to be you. And yeah, because of the way I feel about you, I am always going to try to protect you, but I swear to God, I’m past trying to make your choices for you. These last few days…” Will swallowed. “Knowing you probably can’t forgive…”
“Will, listen to me. It’s not that. I feel like I failed. Everybody. I failed Ashe. I failed you——”
Will sounded almost shocked. “What are you talking about? You never failed anyone in your life.”
“I did, though. And I’m trying to work through it. I know I’ve been withdrawn and moody and… I’m trying. But I’m so goddamned…”
“What?”
Taylor shook his head.
“Angry?”
Taylor drew a long breath, let it out slowly. “Depressed. I guess.”
“Depressed?” Will sounded like he’d never heard the word before, and he probably never had. Not from Taylor, anyway. Neither of them was prone to overanalyzing—or any analyzing of—their feelings. Hell, when had they ever had the luxury of time to even consider what they might be feeling?
“You mean like… Why didn’t you say something? Why wouldn’t you let me help?” Will tried to pull him into his arms, but Taylor, feeling like a fool, resisted.
“Right. Because my feelings are your problem too?”
Will peered at him closely. “Hell, yes, your feelings are my problem. Aren’t my feelings your problem?”
Taylor let out a shaky breath. “Yeah. I guess so.”
“I knew you weren’t okay. I knew you weren’t sleeping, weren’t eating—”
“Neither were you.”
“But I thought you were grieving. I killed your friend.”
Taylor rested his face in his hands. “If I hadn’t— If I could have—”
“Stop,” Will said. “Sweetheart, you know better.”
That soft sweetheart melted him. Taylor turned to Will, and Will wrapped his arms around him, pulled him close.
Taylor said, words muffled against Will’s chest, “I just feel like I could have—should have—”
Coulda, shoulda, woulda.
“None of this is on you,” Will said fiercely. “You sure as hell aren’t to blame for what happened.” He rested his face against Taylor’s hair.
Taylor closed his eyes and gave in to the luxury of leaning on Will. “That’s the thing, though. I was so sure this was a chance to make up for the past. To set things straight. I didn’t handle it well, back in college. He cared so much, and I was just…glad to be starting my real life.”
“Christ, MacAllister. You were both kids. What were you supposed to do?”
Taylor shook his head. Not in answer to Will. He was lost in his own thoughts. “Neither of us was really out…”
Will said, “I know. Of course not.” Will got it. Taylor had been planning for a career in the Bureau of Diplomatic Security, and back then there were no gay federal agents. Or, more exactly, there were no out federal agents. It was a different world. The only people who thought things hadn’t really changed were the people who hadn’t lived through the old days.
He raised his face to meet Will’s gaze. “And it was partly because of that, our friendship meaning so much.”
“Yeah.” The understanding in Will’s blue gaze was both painful and a relief, because Will did absolutely understand everything Taylor was saying—and not saying.
“I did care for him.”
“I know you did,” Will reassured.
“He cried like it was the end of the world.” It had shaken Taylor, those hot tears and shuddering sobs. Ashe had sounded like his heart was breaking. And Taylor had all but fled. Then he’d followed that relationship up with the affair with Inori.
No wonder he’d so often been accused of being emotionally unavailable. That had been his MO. Until Will.
Will sighed, as though Taylor’s pain was a weight on his heart.
“And there was nothing I could say except…if he ever needed me, I’d be there for him.”
“And you were. You tried to be. He made bad choices. And the worst choice was thinking he could pay off his gambling debts by handing us over to Mikhail Bashnakov.”
Taylor nodded. “Yes. But it’s still…”
“Shocking. Painful. Depressing,” Will agreed. “Yeah. I see th
at. I’m sorry.” He held Taylor still more tightly, and Taylor rested his face in the curve of Will’s neck. Will bent his head, said softly against Taylor’s ear, “I’m sorry it turned out the way it did. But I’m not sorry we’re both here tonight. I’m never going to be sorry for that.”
Taylor whispered, “No. Me neither.”
The rain-scented breeze of island flowers, the soft, cool cotton of freshly laundered sheets, the lazy click of a digital clock beside the bed, the faint tap-tapping of old plumbing. Bliss.
When Taylor finally opened his eyes the next morning, Will said, “What if we make that ring of yours for real?”
Taylor blinked at the ceiling, blinked at Will, said rustily, “It is for real.”
Will was smiling, but his blue eyes were grave. “I mean official. Legal.”
Was Will asking what he seemed to be asking? Taylor said slowly, “You want to get married in Hawaii?”
“Well, we’re here.”
He was clearly kidding—and yet, clearly not kidding.
Okay, it was understood they would one day marry. They had never discussed the logistics, but Will knew Taylor well enough to be confident Taylor didn’t want a big fuss any more than he did.
Will said, “Did you know gay marriage has been legal in Hawaii since 2013?”
“I did not know that, no.” Taylor tilted his head, studying him. “What’s the rush?”
Will laughed. “Rush? We’ve been together five years.”
“Uh, I don’t think we can count the time we weren’t actually together as together.”
“I think it all counts. It all goes into me knowing I want to spend the rest of my life with you.” Will drew in a breath. “And I’m thinking you feel the same.”
Like there was any question of that?
Taylor smiled, all his tenderness and affection right there in his face—but maybe a little exasperation too, because even though this was one of the nicest things Will had ever said to him, it was a case of it’s the thought that counts. Taylor had lived through the weddings of two siblings, and if Will imagined it was possible to pull off a spur-of-the-moment wedding, he was hitting the Mai Tais again.