As we got to talking, I sensed he was feeling a bit lonely, and perhaps needed someone to talk to. He told me that he and his husband had visited here once in 2019, but he hadn’t been back since his husband died three years ago.

He said he hoped he wasn’t bothering me, but since I was sitting by myself and looked to be over 50 (I’m 54), he thought I might not mind the company. We hadn’t made much small talk before he told me he didn’t know what to do with himself. When I asked him what he meant, he hesitated. I think he was deciding whether he could trust me with his answer.

He said he feels like no one looks at him. The older men seem to be here with their partners or friends, and the younger men pass him by without really seeing him.

As though he were “invisible”.

I could tell he was choosing his words carefully when he asked if I was “with someone” here. When I told him I had friends visiting here at the same time, but that I was here by myself, he seemed pleased. Not in a thoughtless way. I thought he might be interested in me, but he never made an overt proposition. I think he simply decided that I was someone who could see him.

Did I mention he was charming, and a bit of a flatterer? He asked why a handsome fella like myself was here alone. Ordinarily, I suppose I would have answered with a polite smile, but I wanted him to know that despite the 20 years separating us, we were not so different.

My last relationship ended unexpectedly after 12 years, and I am still discovering the difference between being alone and being lonely.

Few communities are as dynamic, colorful, and magical as ours. But for all the ways we have learned to celebrate who we are, I’m not sure we’ve learned how to celebrate growing older.

We chatted a bit more about Ireland, books we’ve read, and the merits of cold lobster rolls vs. warm ones. Kevin mentioned that he had a dinner reservation at The Red Inn. He and his husband had fallen in love with the place when they visited, he told me, and he knew it would feel bittersweet going back without him.

I don’t recall ever inviting myself to anything in my life. But I asked Kevin if he thought the restaurant might let him change his reservation to two.

They did.

I’ll be back in Ireland for most of December, and I already know I’ll be looking up my new friend Kevin Danaher while I’m there.

xx Daire

This is not an actual photo of Kevin. I did not get his permission to use the photo I took of him for this post. This is an A.I. generated image of Kevin as I remember him.

“I think I should go.”

Aiden looked at me. “Okay.”

That wasn’t the answer I expected.

“Do you want me to walk you back?”

I looked through the patio doors again. “I don’t know what I want.”

“Then maybe don’t decide anything yet. C’mon. I’ve got dry clothes in my room.”

I sat on the edge of the bed.

“Here. These should fit. We’re about the same size.” Aiden handed me a pair of his sweats and a T-shirt.

“I thought it would hurt more.”

Aiden sat beside me. “Seeing them?”

I nodded.

“Did it? Hurt?”

“Yeah, but not the way I thought it would”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. I’m confused. I watched him sucking Ryan off like I wasn’t there, and for a second I wanted to get the hell out of here. But I don’t want to leave him. I’m not even sure I want him to stop. That scares me more than seeing them together.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t know what that says about me. I always thought if something like this happened, that would be it. You cheat. Somebody leaves. End of story. But I saw them together, and all I could think is that I still love him. I still want to wake up next to him tomorrow.”

“And that scares you?”

“It confuses the hell out of me.” I looked at Aiden. “You really had a crush on me at Penn State?”

He smiled. “That’s what you’re thinking about right now?”

“Answer me.”

“Crushes are for little girls. But yeah. Something like that.”

“And now?”

Aiden’s smile faded a little. “You really need to ask?”

I kissed him. His lips were warm against mine, and they parted willingly when I pushed my tongue between them. Then he pulled away.

“Jake… I don’t want to be how you get even with Tim.”

“That’s not what this is.” Aiden’s eyes searched mine, looking for the lie. “I’m not thinking about him.”

“You sure? Because if you’re not—”

“I’m sure.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist and eased him back on the bed next to me. We stayed like that, making out for a long time. There was some uncertainty at first. I could feel it in him, and in myself. But it wasn’t Tim I was thinking about. It was Aiden. When we first met, I noticed how good-looking he was. This was different. I noticed the color of his eyes, the freckles across his shoulders, the way he smiled when he caught me looking at him. I could feel his heart beating against my chest and the hardness of his cock pressing against my leg. I wanted him. And I didn’t need that to mean anything more than that.

I don’t know how long we’d been lying there making out when I felt the mattress dip. I opened my eyes. Tim was between my legs, looking flushed; his pupils were dark and blown wide with an expectation I understood immediately. Aiden saw it too. I wondered where Ryan was, then I realized he was on his knees behind Tim, eating Tim’s ass. Aiden moved to the other side of the bed. I sat up and ran my hand through Tim’s hair. “Can I talk to you for a second?” He searched my face, then nodded. I got up and held out my hand. He took it and followed me into the hall.

“I’m okay, Tim.”

He nodded, but he didn’t look convinced.

“I mean it.” I kept hold of his hand. “I’m okay.”

“Then what’s wrong?”

I glanced toward Aiden’s bedroom. “I don’t think I’m ready for all four of us.” Tim was quiet. He looked worried or disappointed. Or both. I squeezed his hand. “But I think I want to be with Aiden tonight.”

“Just you and him?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

I kissed him. “I love you, Tim.”

His eyes searched mine. “I love you too.”

I kissed him again. Softer this time. “Wait here.”

“For what?”

“Ryan.”

Ryan looked up when I came into the room. He and Aiden were huddled in whispered conversation.

“Tim’s waiting for you.”

He studied me. “You’re okay with that?”

“I’m getting there.” I glanced toward the hallway. “Just don’t let him forget where he’s supposed to wake up.”

I watched Ryan walk down the hall towards Tim. Seeing them together brought a tightness to my chest, but I took a breath and turned around. Aiden was sitting on the edge of the bed in his briefs, holding the T-shirt he’d given me to wear earlier. He looked like he didn’t know what to do with himself. I closed the door behind me. He asked me if everything was okay, and looked down at the T-shirt in his hands.

“I wasn’t sure you were coming back. I figured you’d probably go with him.”

“Do you want me to?”

He looked up. “No.”

“Good.” I crossed the room and stood between his legs.

TIM:

I followed Ryan into his bedroom. He closed the door behind us with a soft click, then pulled me into his arms. We were still naked, and I didn’t realize I was shivering until I felt his warmth against me.

He took my face in both hands. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I think so.” I rested my hands against his chest. I mean, I wanted this.” Ryan waited for me to say more. “I just didn’t know it would feel like this when Jake wanted it too. I think I’m glad it’s Aiden.”

Ryan looked uncertain. “Why?”

“Because he’s a good guy.”

Ryan laughed. “Unlike me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.”

I ran my thumb along Ryan’s lips. I didn’t regret sleeping with Ryan. I’d been trying to make myself regret it ever since Jake arrived because I thought I was supposed to. Because I’d hurt Jake. I regretted lying to him and breaking the promise we’d made to each other. I regretted making him wonder if he could ever trust me again. But I didn’t regret Ryan.

“Do you still want me?” I asked.

Ryan looked at me. “Of course, I do. But wanting you doesn’t mean I think we should be together.”

“You don’t?”

“I love you, Tim. But I see the way you look at him.”

“What about Aiden?”

“What about him?”

“You two are really just friends?”

“Mostly.”

“I don’t understand what that means.”

Ryan smiled and pulled me closer. “It means I’m done talking about Aiden.”

JAKE:

Aiden lay back on the bed, pulling me down with him. His body was warm and solid. His gaze dropped to my mouth, then back up. When my lips touched his, there was no holding back, no hesitation from either of us.

“Are you still sure?” he whispered against my mouth. He pulled back, lips grazing mine, searching my face. I didn’t look away.

“Yeah.”

Flipping us over, his tongue slid against mine, slow and deep. I arched into him. His lips moved to my neck and down my chest, circling one nipple, then the other, sucking lightly. His tongue trailed over my abs, tracing each ridge reverently, tenderly kissing lower until his lips stretched wide around the head of my cock. He groaned, taking me deeper. He looked up at me, holding my gaze while his head bobbed slowly up and down. I untangled my fingers from his hair, drew him up against me, turning with him until he was beneath me.

TIM:

Ryan’s hand gripped the back of my neck as he kissed me. There was something different about the way he kissed me now. He wasn’t holding anything back. His mouth was hot and wet, his tongue exploring my mouth possessively.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he said. I didn’t know how I was gonna make it happen, but Jake took care of that for me.”

Ryan smiled. “And now maybe this doesn’t have to be the last time.”

“What do you mean?”

“The train from New York to Pittsburgh is 9 hours.”

“You looked it up?”

“Maybe.”

I pulled back to look at him. “Ryan.”

“Okay, I looked it up.”

“Why?”

“Because maybe Provincetown doesn’t need to be the only place I ever see you.”

I didn’t know what to say; the idea scared me a little. He pushed me back onto the mattress and climbed on top. His hard, thick cock pressed against my belly. He drew me toward him and kissed me slowly, holding me there as though he had all night and no intention of letting me go. I arched my back, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“Not yet,” he whispered. “On your hands and knees.”

He spread my ass cheeks apart and buried his nose between them, inhaling deeply. I felt his tongue circling my hole, licking until I was begging him to fuck me. His fingers dug into my hips, leaving bruises I wouldn’t need to explain to Jake. His hands spread me wider, holding me open, growling as he licked deeper.

I cried out, twisting my fingers in his hair. “Ryan—please—” My voice cracked into a raw, needy whisper. He gazed up at me with heavy-lidded eyes.

“On your back.”

He pinned me to the mattress and pushed in slowly at first, deliberately tormenting me until every inch of his fat cock stretched and filled my ass. “Look at me!” His thrusts grew feral, his moans louder as he pounded into me relentlessly. Our words were desperate and filthy. He pressed his mouth to my neck, biting down hard. I let out a choked whimper. He fucked me until my cock spurted all over my chest. My hole clenched around his cock like it never wanted to let go. “Fuuck, baby.” He came seconds later with a deep, guttural groan, filling my ass with his cum.

When we finally grew still, Ryan reached for me again.

JAKE:

Aiden pulled me down on top of him. The kiss was hungry and desperate. He moaned into my mouth when I kissed him back like I was his alone. I pinned him to the mattress, deepening the kiss. I told myself this was just something I needed to understand, that I needed to know what it felt like. But when I looked in Aiden’s eyes, I knew that I wasn’t trying to understand anything. My restraint shattered. My cock throbbed against his. I brushed my lips along his jaw and down his neck.

“Mark me,” he said. And I do. Biting. Sucking hard. I buried my nose in his pit, inhaling his scent, tasting his sweat. I eased lower, teasing his nipples with my tongue, licking the sweat trickling down his chest, rising and falling. His uncut cock was as big as mine. Seven inches, maybe eight, curving up. I slid his foreskin back and licked the head, leaking and wet with need. His fingers twisted in my hair.

“Jake.”

I ran my lips down his shaft to his balls, dragging my tongue over them, tasting the sweaty musk. I licked up the shaft again, lapping up the salty precum dripping down. I wanted to suck him off and swallow his cum. But he pulled his knees back toward his chest and looked at me with a small, hopeful smile that made it clear what he wanted.

“Do you have a condom?”

Aiden’s smile disappeared. “I haven’t been with anybody since I got tested,” he said. “When I thought about this, I guess I never imagined us using one.”

“You thought about this?”

“More than once.”

I slicked my fingers with lube and worked him open. Shallow at first, then deeper. I covered my cock with lube and got him on all fours. I pushed in slowly, watching his hole stretch around my cock disappearing inside him. Aiden groaned beneath me, begging for more. I gripped his hips, fucking him harder. My balls smacking against his taint, sweat dripping off my face onto his ass. I pulled him against my chest so he was only on his knees, and pressed my lips to his ear. “Is this what you thought about, Aiden? Me fucking you?” I wrapped my hand around his cock and stroked it like it was my own. He came on my hand, spraying thick ropes of cum all over the bed, begging me to breed him. I fisted my hand in his hair, pulled his head back, and kissed him. His asshole clenched around my throbbing cock, not letting go until I filled his ass with my cum.

We collapsed tangled in each other’s arms, covered in sweat and cum, and fell asleep.

I woke to the weight of an arm across my chest. Morning light came through the window. I turned my head. Tim was asleep beside me.

To be continued.

Many of you know that I donate the earnings from my paid subscriptions every month to a different nonprofit organization. My writing here will always remain free to read, so those of you who choose to become paid subscribers are doing something very generous: you’re helping me turn these stories into something that does a bit of good where it’s needed. And you’re also supporting Substack.

So, to celebrate 500 subscribers, I’m rounding up my August Substack earnings to $500 and donating it to Dolly Parton’s Imagine Library, a book gifting program that mails free books to children from birth until they begin school in participating areas. I can’t think of a more fitting way to celebrate this Substack community that exists because of words and stories. To everyone who reads or recommends my work to someone else, thank you.

And for those of you who pay for a subscription, this $500 is being donated because of you and …

In honor of Dolly Parton.

xx Daire

Chapter Three carries a lot of weight for Jake and Tim. There are things between them that can’t be fixed with an apology or a new set of rules. They have to decide what they’re willing to forgive, what they’re willing to change, and whether making room for someone else means losing something between themselves.

It feels right to write the next part of their story where I imagined it happening.

xx Daire

“I want to see you with him.”

Tim stared at me. “What does that mean?”

“I don’t know yet. You spent years with him. You followed him to Penn State. Three days ago, you slept with him again. I’ve known you for four years, and until yesterday, I didn’t even know he existed.”

Tim looked away.

“I guess I want to understand why, Tim.”

TIM:

I’d been asking myself why ever since Jake arrived. Why hadn’t I told him about Ryan? Why had I gone looking for Ryan as soon as I got to Ptown? Why did I spend two days in bed with him? And why in the hell had I let Ryan come with me to meet Jake at the ferry?

I rolled on my back and stared at the ceiling. Jake’s naked body was still tangled with mine, a leg draped across mine. I could still feel the warmth of him against me. We were together. And somehow, Ryan was there between us.

I looked at the clock. Our reservation was for six-thirty. It was almost five. I ran my fingers through Jake’s hair.

“We should get ready,” I said. “You shower first.”

As soon as I heard the water running, I grabbed my phone and texted Ryan.

I think dinner’s a bad idea. I’ll tell Jake that you called and said you and Aiden forgot you had other plans.

Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Then appeared again.

Why would you think I don’t want to have dinner with you and your boyfriend? I promise to behave.

Then another text appeared. Aiden said he’s not promising anything.

When Jake and I arrived at the restaurant, Ryan and Aiden were nowhere in sight. For half a second, I thought maybe Ryan had changed his mind. No such luck. Our table wasn’t ready, and the host told us they were waiting upstairs at the bar. Ryan spotted us as soon as we reached the top of the stairs. He came over and gave me a hug I would have welcomed two days ago. But with Jake standing beside me, it felt too familiar.

Then Ryan pulled Jake into a bro hug, as though they’d been buddies for years. “Thanks again for inviting Aiden and me. I’m glad we’re doing this.” He glanced at the bar. “Don’t tell Aiden I said anything, but I should warn you. He was a total fanboy when you captained men’s volleyball at Penn State. So, he’s probably gonna talk your ear off.”

Jake ordered a round of drinks. I had the feeling he needed to feel in control tonight. Ten minutes later, the host showed us to our table. Jake took the seat across from Ryan and motioned for me to sit beside him. The whole thing felt deliberate, as though he were arranging pieces on a chessboard.

JAKE:

Sitting across from Ryan, I could see why Tim slept with him. That part was obvious. What I hadn’t expected was to like him.

Dinner was easier than I expected. We talked about everything except the reason the four of us were sitting together. Ryan suggested going back to their place afterward. “We can open a bottle of wine and relax in the hot tub.”

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit.”

Ryan smiled. “You don’t need one.”

I glanced at Tim.

“There’s a shop on the way,” Ryan added. “We can stop.”

I felt Tim tense beside me. “We should probably call it a night,” he said. “Right, Jake?”

“No.” I surprised myself with how quickly I answered. “Actually, the hot tub sounds nice.”

Tim looked at me. I wasn’t sure I should be so curious to see where the night would lead.

After we left the restaurant, Tim and Aiden walked ahead of us.

“Tim’s a lucky guy,” Ryan said. “He talked about you a lot before you got here.”

“Good things, I hope.”

“Annoyingly good.” He smiled. “I was a little jealous.”

I looked at him.

“When Tim and I were together, he never looked at me the way he looks at you.” Ryan shoved his hands into his pockets. “We were different. We weren’t exclusive. I guess we were as committed to each other as two horny, restless guys knew how to be.”

“Did you love him?”

“Yeah. I was crazy about him.”

“And now?” I asked. “After you’ve… been with him again?”

Ryan looked at me for a moment before answering. “In a way? Yeah, I still love him. But that doesn’t mean I don’t respect you, or what you two have.”

I wasn’t sure what to do with that, so I said nothing. We walked another half block before Ryan spoke again.

“Tim said you guys have always been monogamous. You never wanted to fuck other guys?”

“No.”

“Never?”

“I found my person.” I looked ahead at Tim. “My mother cheated on my dad. When I was ten, she packed a bag and left with the guy. I haven’t seen her since.”

Ryan didn’t say anything.

“So yeah, I guess I’ve always had pretty definite ideas about what staying with someone looks like. What’s the story with you and Aiden? How long have you been together?”

Ryan chuckled. “We’re not a couple. We’re just friends.”

I wasn’t sure I believed him.

TIM:

I’d spent dinner waiting for Ryan to say something that would make everything worse, but he never did. I still don’t know how to navigate any of this without hurting Jake more. I should have regretted what happened, but I didn’t, and that bothered me.

Aiden bumped his shoulder against mine.

“So, are you and Jake okay?”

“I think so.”

“You might want to tell your face. You’ve looked guilty all night.” He lowered his voice. “Did you tell him everything?”

I glanced back at Jake and Ryan.

“Relax. They can’t hear us.”

I looked at Aiden.

“I’m guessing that’s a no. For what it’s worth, I get it.”

“Get what?”

Aiden glanced back over his shoulder. “Jake.”

“What about him?”

“C’mon, Tim, the guy’s ridiculous.”

I laughed. “Ridiculous?”

“Six-two, volleyball captain, gorgeous, the whole nice-guy thing. I bet he has a big dick too.” He shook his head. “It’s exhausting.”

“I heard you had a crush on him.”

“Had?”

I looked at him.

“I’m kidding.” Aiden grinned. “Mostly. Does that bother you?”

“No.”

“You answered pretty fast.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Okay.”

I hated the way he said “okay.”

“So, what didn’t you tell him?”

I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Nothing that matters.”

Aiden laughed under his breath. “That’s usually what people say about what matters the most.”

JAKE:

By the time we reached the shop, they were getting ready to close for the night. Ryan knew the guy behind the counter, and convinced him to let us in. Tim found a pair of swim trunks for himself and held another pair against my waist.

“These.”

“You sure?”

“Trust me.”

There was only one dressing room, if you could call it that. It was nothing more than a narrow cubbyhole behind a curtain and barely enough room to turn around. I changed, pulled on the trucks, and stepped out. Aiden was leaning against the counter. Tim and Ryan were gone.

“Where’d they go?”

“Wine. They said they’d meet us at the condo.”

I looked toward the door. “Tim didn’t even try his on.”

“Ryan said he has something that’ll fit him.” Aiden picked up another pair from the rack.

“Try these.”

“What’s wrong with the ones I have on?”

“Those are terrible.”

I stepped back into the dressing room and took them off. I pulled on the trucks Aiden picked out and looked at myself in the mirror.

Aiden slid the curtain open and stepped in behind me. Our eyes met in the reflection. He reached around, hooked a couple of fingers under the waistband, testing the fit. “Better.”

“You think?”

His eyes flicked downward. “Honestly?”

“Yeah.”

He smiled mischievously. “I think you’d look better without them.”

I got dressed and paid for the swim trunks. We hadn’t gone far before we ran into someone Aiden knew. When Aiden introduced us, the guy gave me an unapologetic once-over.

“Jesus, Aiden. Where are you and Aiden finding all these hot guys?”

Aiden laughed. “You just have to be there when the ferry docks.”

“Is this the other one?”

I looked at Aiden. “Other one?”

The guy must have realized he said something he shouldn’t have. “Never mind. You guys coming out tonight?”

Aiden told him we already had plans, and we kept walking. The place they rented was on the east end of town, and by the time we got there, I’d mostly forgotten about it. Mostly. Tim and Ryan were sitting side by side on the edge of the hot tub sharing a bottle of wine. Tim jumped up as soon as he saw me.

“We thought you got lost.”

I stopped. Tim was wearing nothing but his briefs. And Ryan had on white boxer briefs that didn’t leave much to the imagination. Apparently, they’d stopped worrying about swimsuits.

It must have been obvious, at least to Aiden, that I was thrown by the intimacy of what we walked into. But Tim was already on his feet, coming toward me. Whatever had been happening before I arrived, he seemed genuinely glad I was there. He kissed me, then started unbuttoning my shirt.

“Go put on your trunks,” he said. “The hot tub is amazing.”

Aiden put his hand on my shoulder. “C’mon. You can change in my room.”

I followed Aiden into his room and took off my shirt. I could see Aiden through the mirror, rifling through his suitcase looking for a swimsuit, and I realized he probably hadn’t needed to wear one until now. He looked up and caught me staring. We both smiled.

“I can’t find it. You mind if I just wear my briefs?”

“Why would I mind?”

“Just checking.”

I changed into my new trunks while Aiden stripped down to his briefs. Neither of us bothered turning away.

When Aiden and I came back outside, Tim and Ryan were already in the hot tub. Ryan had both arms resting along the edge, one behind Tim’s shoulder. His head was tipped back. Their briefs were lying off to the side. In the faint light spilling from the house, it looked like Tim’s hand was stroking Ryan’s cock. I couldn’t be sure. I looked at Tim. He didn’t smile or say anything. He just watched me, waiting.

I looked at Aiden in his underwear, then down at the trunks I just paid eighty bucks for. I hooked my thumbs into the waistband, pulled them off, and climbed into the hot tub. Tim came over to me, wrapped his arms around my shoulders, and kissed me. I think I walked into something that started without me, but it didn’t feel like he was showing Ryan that I belonged to him or reminding me that he belonged to me. He just seemed happy that I was there. I put my arms around his waist and held him there.

What I expected to happen next didn’t. Aiden got naked and joined us, and within a few minutes we were drinking and laughing like there was nothing unusual about any of it. Ryan told stories about Tim’s brother Jesse, and it was nice to see Tim laugh. He seemed more relaxed than he’d been since I arrived. Whenever one of Ryan’s stories wandered too far from the truth, Aiden was quick to correct him. Watching the two of them together, I wondered again if “just friends” was the whole story. There were a few things said that seemed a little flirtatious, and a hand might have brushed against my leg, but eventually I stopped worrying about what I thought was going to happen next and just enjoyed being there with Tim.

After a couple of glasses of wine, I climbed out and went inside to use the bathroom. I stood in front of the mirror afterward, looking at myself while I dried my hands. I wasn’t sure what I expected tonight to feel like, but Ryan wasn’t trying to take Tim away from me, and Aiden wasn’t trying to get me in bed. Nobody seemed to be waiting for anything to happen.

There was a soft knock at the door. I smiled, thinking it was Tim. When I opened the door, it was Aiden.

“Are you okay?”

I assured him I was. I followed Aiden back through the living room. Through the open patio doors, I could see Tim and Ryan. They weren’t talking anymore. Ryan was sitting on the edge of the hot tub. Tim was between his knees, looking up at him, sucking his cock. Aiden stopped beside me. Then I felt his hand slip into mine. I looked down at our hands.

I didn’t pull away.

To Be Continued

Chapter Two will be available on Sunday

“Go without me,” I told Tim. “I’ll fly up to Boston on Tuesday and take the ferry.”

We’d been planning the trip for nearly a year; Tim had been to Provincetown before. I hadn’t. The plan had been to drive there together, until my boss insisted I stay behind to finish a project. We couldn’t change the Airbnb reservation, so I told Tim to go on ahead without me, and I’d get there as soon as I could.

This was going to be our first vacation together as a couple. Tim was like a little kid waiting for Christmas, so I let him plan everything. He’d even posted a few shirtless selfies on Instagram with the caption Countdown to Ptown. When I mentioned how loose and low his shorts seemed to hang, he said, “It’s Ptown, babe!” Looking at his Instagram, I wondered if he thought we’d finished the conversation we had a week ago about opening up our relationship. We definitely had not. But I didn’t say anything.

The first two days he texted me constantly about the gay beach, drag queens, photos of lobster rolls, and the boat slip. Then yesterday afternoon: nothing. When I called him last night, he didn’t answer, and this morning, when I called him to tell him I’d be arriving on the 1:00 ferry, it went to voicemail. By the time the ferry pulled into Provincetown Harbor, I’d convinced myself he’d probably lost his phone. I was relieved when I saw him waiting at the end of the pier. Then I realized he wasn’t alone.

I stepped off the gangway and into Tim’s arms. “Babe, you made it,’ he said. He kissed me like we’d been apart for weeks, not three days. When we pulled apart, he didn’t let go of my hand.

“Jake…” he glanced at the man standing beside him. “There’s someone I want you to meet.”

I looked over for the first time. If I had to describe “Ryan” in one word, I couldn’t. He was taller than me, which wasn’t something I noticed often. A faded Red Sox T-shirt stretched across a thick chest and arms that obviously came from lifting weights. A mop of dark hair fell carelessly over his forehead. His eyes were an impossible blue that settled on me as though I’d arrived halfway through a conversation that he and Tim already had. I reached out to shake his hand, but he ignored it and pulled me into a hug instead.

“So you’re Jake.” He leaned in close enough that only I could hear him. “Now I can see why.”

As we walked to our Airbnb, Tim turned to Ryan. “Come out to dinner with us tonight.”

“No.” Ryan must have noticed the puzzled expression on my face. “You and Jake should spend his first night here by yourselves.”

TIM:

I’m glad Jake’s finally here. The past three days had been nothing like I expected. Ryan had insisted tonight should be just Jake and me. He was right, of course. I dreaded the conversation waiting for us after dinner. I never told Jake that Ryan messaged me after seeing my posts on Instagram. As it turned out, he was going to be in Ptown the same week we were. I knew Jake would be uncomfortable knowing my ex was going to be here, and I’d convinced myself it didn’t matter anyway. Just because Ryan knew I’d be here didn’t mean we’d run into each other.

After we left Ryan, Jake and I walked back to the condo we’d rented for the week. He didn’t say much. As soon as he unpacked, he changed into a tank top and shorts, and went for a run.

“I’ll be back.”

I didn’t ask where he was going.

At dinner that night, Jake was still quiet. I talked enough for both of us, pretending not to notice that he was mostly pushing food around his plate. Eventually, I ran out of things to say.

Finally, he looked up from his beer. “Tim?”

“Yeah?”

“How do you know Ryan?”

I set my fork down. “He was my brother’s best friend. That’s how we met.”

“And?”

I avoided looking Jake in the eyes. “We were boyfriends for a while.”

Jake nodded once, staring at his plate. “You never told me.”

“I know.”

“Did you know he’d be here?”

“Not until he saw my Instagram posts.”

“Did something happen before I got here?”

I looked down at my hands. “If I lie now, I’ll lose you anyway.” I swallowed. “We slept together.”

Jake looked at me for a long time. He reached for his beer and finished it. Finally, he nodded. “I’m going for a walk.”

“Jake.”

He stood and said, “I’ll see you back at the condo.”

I wasn’t ready to be in another relationship when I met Jake. I was still so hung up on Ryan that I barely noticed the people standing in front of me. But I knew who Jake was. He captained the men’s volleyball team, and I’d overheard enough conversations to know plenty of people thought he was hot. And they weren’t wrong. I thought he was out of my league, and he looked like someone I should’ve been afraid to talk to, but when he smiled at me the first time, I was smitten.

Jake and I never talked about being monogamous; we just were. He was everything I needed him to be, and I never cheated on him until two nights ago.

My crush on Ryan started when I was in the 9^th grade. He was my brother Jesse’s best friend, and two years older than me. Whenever Jesse let me tag along, I did. I even joined the swim team because Ryan was on it. At first he’d drive me home after practice. Then he started taking the long way home. The first time we had sex was my first time. We did it in the backseat of his car. After that, we found ways to be alone every chance we could. Nobody knew, not even Jesse. I told myself I’d get over it when he left for Penn State. Instead, I followed him there. I mistook what we were doing for something more, something it wasn’t. I didn’t know the difference. I was fifteen when it started, and I’d never been with another guy.

JAKE:

I had no idea where I was going. I just wanted to get as far away from the restaurant, away from the noise of Commercial Street, away from the voices around me. I found a narrow path that led to the beach. I sat in the sand and stared out at the water. I heard the footsteps before I heard my name.

“Jake?”

I turned. Ryan.

“Are you okay?” He looked genuinely concerned. “What are you doing out here? Where’s Tim?”

I laughed. Not because anything was funny. I was face-to-face with the man Tim cheated with, and all I could say was, “Go away.”

He didn’t. He stood there for a moment before lowering himself onto the sand a few feet away. Neither of us spoke. The tide crept closer, hissing over the sand before slipping back into the dark.

Ryan let out a heavy sigh. “He told you.”

“Yeah.”

He stared out at the water. “I went after him. He didn’t come looking for me. I’m sorry.”

I kept looking out at the water. “He could have said no.”

When I walked into the condo, Tim looked at me with tears in his eyes.

“Jake, I’m—”

“Don’t. Not yet.”

He nodded. I dropped my key on the counter and stood there. Suddenly unsure what I’d come back to say. “I saw Ryan.”

Tim looked up.

“He found me on the beach.”

“What did he say?”

“That he came on to you.”

Tim said nothing.

“He could have stripped naked and climbed into your lap. You still could have said no.”

“I know. But I didn’t.”

That was the first thing Tim said all night that made me want to believe him. “If you wanted to sleep with other people, you should have talked to me. We agreed that if we ever decided to be open, we’d do it together. I don’t know what happens now, Tim.”

His eyes filled again.

“But I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

He nodded again.

“For now, that’s all I’ve got.”

TIM:

That night in bed, I expected Jake to turn away from me. Instead, he pulled me against him and slowly stroked my back. I rested my head on his chest and listened to his heart. For a while, I let myself believe that nothing had changed. I reached for him. Jake caught my hand and brought it to his lips. “Not tonight,” he whispered. He kissed my fingers and held me closer.

The smell of coffee woke me, and I realized Jake wasn’t next to me. I pressed my hand to where he’d been sleeping. It was still warm. I pulled on a pair of shorts and found Jake in the kitchen making breakfast. He hadn’t heard me. I stood in the doorway for a moment, watching him move around the kitchen in a pair of my boxers, and felt such a rush of love for him that it hurt.

“Good morning.”

He turned and smiled. “Morning.”

It wasn’t forgiveness. I knew that. But it was enough to make me believe we were going to be okay.

Since it was Jake’s first visit to Ptown, we rented bikes after breakfast. We bought sandwiches from Pop + Dutch and rode out to the beach. There was still so much we needed to talk about, but for a few hours we were just Jake and Tim again. Until I heard someone call my name behind us. I looked over my shoulder and saw Ryan. My front wheel veered off the road, and I went down hard on my ass.

“Jesus, Tim.” Jake dropped his bike and grabbed my arm, pulling me up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

Ryan stopped beside us. Aiden pulled up behind him, looking slightly bewildered.

“You sure?” Ryan asked.

“I’m fine.” I brushed the dirt off my shorts and looked at Jake. “We should go. Jake got us reservations at The Mews.”

“Nice.” Aiden smiled at Jake. “We haven’t met. I’m Aiden.”

Jake wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead and adjusted his sunglasses. “You guys should come with us.”

I looked at Jake. Ryan did too. “Seriously?”

Jake shrugged. “Why not?”

“Because Aiden and I can’t afford a place like that,” Ryan said.

“Then dinner’s on us.”

Ryan looked at me, and then Jake. “That’s very generous, but we couldn’t let you do that.”

Aiden laughed. “Speak for yourself, dude.”

“Jake…”

He looked at me. “It’s fine, Tim.”

As soon as we got back to the condo, I asked Jake if he was sure inviting Ryan and Aiden to dinner was a good idea. He took two beers from the refrigerator and handed me one.

“Sit down.”

I did. “Jake, I’m—”

“Let me say what I need to say, okay?”

I nodded.

He sat beside me, but didn’t say anything for a while. I don’t know what I expected him to say. I’d broken a promise, and worse, I’d broken his trust. Finally, he took my hand.

“I don’t want to lose you, Tim.”

I looked down at our hands.

“When you brought up opening our relationship, I shut you down. I wasn’t ready. I avoided talking about it, even knowing you wanted it.”

“That doesn’t excuse what I did.”

“No. It doesn’t. You could have told me you weren’t willing to wait.”

“I know.”

“We can’t pretend you and Ryan... but I don’t want what happened with him to make this decision for us.”

JAKE:

I didn’t ask Tim if Ryan was the only other guy he’d been with. His answer wouldn’t have changed anything. What happened had happened. We were going to have an open relationship. I had no idea what that looked like. Maybe we’d make rules. Maybe we’d break some of them and make new ones. Maybe I’d discover I wasn’t as comfortable with any of this as I wanted to believe. But I knew what I didn’t want. I didn’t want to lose Tim. He was still sitting beside me, watching my face, like he was waiting for something to happen.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing.”

I knew better. I reached over and touched his cheek. “C’mere.” He leaned into me, and I kissed him. Not because I’d forgotten what he’d done. I hadn’t. And not because one conversation had somehow fixed us. I kissed him because I wanted him, and because I loved him. Because whatever came next, I wanted it to keep us together.

We stumbled toward the bed. Tim slid back against the pillows, lifting his ass and shoving his shorts down, taking his underwear with them. His cock stood hard and thick. I dragged my tongue down his chest and abs, then along the length of his cock. My tongue had mapped his body into my memory a long time ago. The sound he made was desperate and needy. He rolled me onto my back and curled his fingers into the waistband of my shorts, tugging them down.

“I love you,” he muttered as he licked the precum from the tip of my cock. He lifted his eyes, wet and glassy with arousal. “I need you to fuck me.”

I pulled him to the edge of the bed and pushed his legs back. I stared at his perfect pink hole, knowing another man’s cock had… knowing Ryan had fucked him. I worked his ass open with my tongue and fingers. I crawled between his legs and grabbed the lube off the nightstand. I coated my cock and pushed in. Slowly. Carefully. His legs wrapped around me, his hands gripping my shoulders. The bed creaked under us. The slap of skin on skin and the sounds he made filled the room. I leaned down and kissed him.

Tim shattered first with a muffled cry against my shoulder, his cock erupting between us. I followed seconds later, unloading deep in his ass. We collapsed, sweating and tangled together.

Tim turned on his side to face me. “Jake?”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you invite Ryan to dinner?”

To be continued.

So, in the meantime, I hope you’ll be here on Wednesday for the opening chapter of Making Room for the Sun, a short story about a relationship between two men, and how three days apart became the distance neither of them expected to cross.

An unexpected reunion was enough to change both their lives.

And to those of you who have chosen to become paid subscribers, I want to offer my heartfelt gratitude. Your generosity has already begun making a difference.

As I promised in a previous post, all proceeds from paid subscriptions received during July have been donated to The Trevor Project, whose work providing crisis intervention and suicide prevention services to LGBTQ+ young people is more important than ever. If you’d like to learn more about their remarkable work, you can do so here: Trevor Project

Next month, I’ll continue making a monthly donation to a different charity, with future organizations chosen from the wonderful suggestions you’ve shared with me.

Thank you for helping transform stories into something that reaches beyond these pages.

Now that The Tipping Point has come to an end, I’m hard at work on the next journey.

My next serialized novel is A Man’s Reach. Set along the rugged coastlines of Northern Ireland and the waters of the Irish Sea, A Man’s Reach is a story of longing and the dangerous pull of love. The sea is as much a character as anyone who walks its beautiful and unforgiving shores.

I can’t wait to share it with you.

Until then, thank you, as always, for being such extraordinary company.

Daire xx

WYATT:

After Charlie left, I took Bowie for a walk. I told myself I wasn’t going anywhere near Leo’s flat. Ten minutes later, I was standing across the street from it. There was a light on in his apartment. I pulled out my phone to text him, letting him know I was downstairs and wanted to talk. My thumb hovered over “Send.” Then the light went out, and I slipped the phone back into my pocket.

Connor texted me the next day inviting me to dinner. “Malcolm’s making mince and tatties for dinner tomorrow night, and you’re coming. Malcolm says if you say no, he’ll drag you here himself.”

I read Connor’s text twice before answering. It wasn’t dinner I was hesitating about. It was the thought of sitting across the table from three people who had somehow figured out what I’d spent most of my life getting wrong.

I replied, “Tell the Edinburgher bastard I said he’s a bully. What time?”

I arrived at Malcolm’s flat the following evening, rang the bell and knocked, but no one came to the door. I waited a few minutes and tried again. I heard Connor’s voice from somewhere in the flat. Malcolm answered the door, looking surprised. He was clutching a towel around his waist that couldn’t hide his massive erection poking out.

“Jesus Christ, Wyatt! Ye’re a mile early, ye impatient bugger.”

I checked my watch. “Connor said 6:30.”

Malcolm laughed. “Aye, but I didnae think yed interpret that as quarter past. Well, come in. Ye know where I keep the scotch. Mind yersel’ fer a wee bit. Ye dinnae want me sittin’ through dinner with blue balls, dae ye?”

I poured myself a scotch and downed it. Then another. I couldn’t say if it muted the sound of Malcolm’s grunts and Connor’s begging drifting from down the hall or made it louder, but it stilled my nerves.

I was about to pour myself another whiskey when Jace walked into the living room looking like he’d showered and gotten dressed in a hurry. When he realized his t-shirt was on backward, he lifted it over his head and put it on the right way, but not before I caught sight of the fresh red bruises traveling down his chest and belly.

“Good to see you again, Wyatt. Connor and Mal are still… in the shower. I told them I wanted a few minutes alone with you.”

My stomach tightened. I couldn’t imagine what Jace and I had to say to one another.

JACE:

I think I took Wyatt by surprise when I told him I wanted some time alone with him. We didn’t know each other, not really. I’d mostly been a spectator to everything that happened in Chicago with Sam and Hunter, but that was why we needed to talk. Wyatt lived it. Connor was hurt by it, and so was I.

I noticed the empty glass in Wyatt’s hand. “I’ll have whatever you’re drinking.” It was obvious that we were both uncomfortable, but I knew he had questions and he deserved answers.

“Do you love Connor?” he asked. He must have thought Connor was the reason I wanted to speak to him alone.

“Yes. I love him, Wyatt. I don’t know where this ends. None of us do. But every morning I wake up happy knowing I have another day here with them. But this isn’t about Connor and me,” I told him. “This is about Sam.”

Wyatt looked concerned. Was he remembering how I behaved when he knew me in Chicago? How could he not? The night we met, I sucked his husband off. And then I knowingly helped Cody push Sam and Hunter together. When I’d known Wyatt in Chicago, the only people connecting us were Cody, Hunter... and Sam.

“I’m sorry for everything that happened in Chicago. You should know... Sam talked about you more than you probably realize. Long before you split up. He loved you. He… stopped believing he deserved you. He wasn’t a bad man. He just kept looking for someone to tell him who he was.”

WYATT:

It was hard to hear what Jace had to say. I’d closed that chapter because people told me I needed to. But what I needed was someone to finally tell me the truth that I’d been unable to see. Sam couldn’t. Jace could because he was there, because he watched. I wanted to ask if Sam and Hunter were still together. But Connor and Malcom came into the room. It was just as well. It didn’t matter anymore.

That night, I barely slept. By the time the first light crept through the curtains, I gave up trying. The moment I opened my eyes, Bowie’s tail began thumping against the mattress. “Alright…alright. I’m awake. Let’s go for a run, boy.”

We headed for Regent’s Canal. As soon as I turned into Victoria Park, I saw Leo in the distance running towards me. We both stopped when we saw each other. I’d been running in the opposite direction, away from Leo, for two months. No more. Bowie took off, pulling the leash out of my hand, and ran to him. It wasn’t the first time my dog knew better than I did, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Every step toward Leo felt like a question. What if he didn’t want to see me? Would he turn around and walk away? What could I say to him? I was the one who broke us. Not him.

When I reached Leo, he was still crouched down by Bowie. I’d thought about Leo every day, and yet somehow, I had forgotten how beautiful he is. His skin glistened with sweat, and the early morning sun caught in his hair like gold thread. He looked up at me with those same brown eyes that undid me every time.

“I’m sorry,” I said, knowing it wasn’t enough.

“Why did you wait so long?”

“I’ve been looking for the courage.”

“I’m sorry too. For making it harder.”

“I thought... if I needed you that much, I’d lose you.”

Leo smiled sadly. “You almost did.”

Bowie decided the conversation had gone on long enough and nudged Leo.

Leo reached for my hand, and I let him. He threaded his fingers through mine as we began walking, with Bowie trotting ahead.

After that morning in the park, Leo and I took things slowly. We both knew we couldn’t rebuild what we’d nearly lost with apologies alone. We had to learn how to trust each other again, and in my case, how to trust myself. We needed to be honest with each other, and I had to learn not to mistake fear for truth. Now there were lines we shouldn’t cross and promises we shouldn’t break. Love had brought us back together, but it wasn’t enough on its own.

I started seeing a therapist. For the first time, I began to understand how much of my life had been shaped by the fear that everyone I loved would eventually leave me. Leo came with me a few times. We talked honestly about what we wanted from each other, our desires, and the boundaries we’d need if we were going to build a life together instead of simply hoping we could. The conversations were never easy, but they gave us something we’d never really had before: a way to talk about our future.

Connor spent more and more time with Jace whenever he’d visit, which usually left Malcolm and me to fend for ourselves. He’d appear at my flat without warning, claiming Bowie needed a proper walk or that I looked like I’d been indoors too long. We’d end up at the gym, or in a pub somewhere, solving the world’s problems over a couple of pints before admitting we hadn’t solved a single thing.

Those times became less frequent as Leo and I mended our relationship, but they never felt any less important. If anything, Malcolm seemed happiest watching me build a life with Leo, and not depending on him as much. We both knew our friendship was unshakeable.

It was Malcolm’s idea that the five of us should take a holiday together in Spain.

One rainy Saturday afternoon, when Leo was in Paris on an assignment, Malcolm came over with a bottle of Lagavulin. We spent the afternoon talking about things to do and where we should go in Spain. We were arguing over trivial, insignificant details and teasing each other like we always did. Then he grew quiet. He reached across the table and took my hand.

“Ye’ve done alright, ye know.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me.”

Malcolm smiled. “Wouldnae dream of it.”

Then...

He said my name, and slumped forward. By the time the paramedics arrived, he was gone.

Why did he take my hand? Maybe he was frightened. Maybe he knew. For a long time I searched for an answer. Eventually I realized it didn’t matter. The last thing Malcolm ever did was reach for me. That was enough.

We buried Malcolm in Scotland. Connor took Malcolm’s death harder than I expected. There were days he hardly spoke at all. A few weeks after the funeral, he moved back into his old room at my flat. Sometimes, late at night, I’d find him wearing Malcolm’s Dundee T-shirt, staring out across the rooftops with a mug of tea gone cold in his hands. We left Malcolm’s coat hanging by the front door for nearly a month. Neither of us could bring ourselves to move it.

Ten months later.

I understood Connor’s decision to move back to Chicago. He and Jace loved each other, and neither of them could afford a long-distance relationship. I know Malcolm would want Connor to follow his heart. Watching Connor leave for Chicago, I realized he was doing exactly what Malcolm had taught both of us to do. Go where love is.

It was just Leo, Bowie, and me now.

LEO:

After Malcolm died, I moved in with Wyatt. We were closer than we’d ever been. It took time, and there were tears and difficult conversations, but we slowly learned to trust the life we were building together. Malcolm’s death broke something open in Wyatt. I’d hear him crying in the middle of the night sometimes, and there were days when neither of us knew quite what to say. Having Connor back under the same roof was good for both of them. But grief changed Wyatt. Beneath it all was a quiet certainty I’d never seen before. He became gentler, more certain of himself, and, perhaps for the first time, completely certain of us. He no longer questioned whether I loved him. He knew I did.

My parents were getting older. Dad was beginning to get easily confused and forgetful. When I spent weeks at a time in Norwich caring for Mum and Dad, Wyatt never asked me to come home. He only asked if there was anything he could do.

I’d been at my parents’ for nearly two weeks when I received a text from Wyatt. Meet me at this address. No. 9 Western Avenue, Norwich. 2:00 pm. When I arrived, Wyatt was pacing up and down the drive. When I asked him what this was all about, he took my hand and led me inside.

“What do you think?”

I looked at him.

“This is our house. I thought it was time we had one.”

WYATT:

I watched Leo wandering through the house, opening cupboards and looking out into the garden. Bowie raced from room to room, nose in the air, already convinced the place belonged to him.

I thought about everything that had brought me here. My mother. Charlie. Sam. Brooklyn. Chicago. Connor. London. My sweet Malcolm. He’d have found something wrong with every room before pouring himself a whisky and telling us we’d done alright. God, I missed him. For years I’d believed home was something I kept losing. I was wrong. Home was the people who’d carried me here.

There was one bedroom upstairs that I’d already decided would always belong to Connor. He lived in Chicago now with Jace, and I didn’t know how often he’d make it back to England. “Connor will complain that we’re wasting a room.”

Leo smiled. “Will he?”

“Probably.” Some people don’t stop belonging somewhere just because they live somewhere else. “It’ll still be his.”

I looked around the empty house. Empty walls. Empty rooms. A lifetime waiting to happen. For the first time in my life, home didn’t feel like somewhere I was afraid of losing. It felt like somewhere we’d finally found.

Leo’s eyes met mine. This time, I was already home.

For everyone who has ever wondered where they belong.

With love. Wyatt, Daire, and Bowie

As Confluence approaches its conclusion, I find myself reflecting on how grateful I am for each of you.

When I began sharing stories on Substack, I had no idea where the journey would lead. What started as a place to publish my writing has become a community of readers from around the world—people who have welcomed Callum, Wyatt, Ben, Karl, Peter, and so many others into their lives. Some of you have been with me from the beginning. Others discovered these stories somewhere along the way. However you arrived here, thank you.

Your comments, emails, recommendations, and simple acts of reading have meant more than I can adequately express.

Many readers have asked why I have never placed my work behind a paywall. The answer is simple: I wanted these stories to remain available to anyone who wished to read them. That remains my intention. Nothing is changing. My fiction will continue to be freely available to all readers.

That said, I would like to make a small request.

If you enjoy my work and are in a position to do so, I hope you will consider becoming a paid subscriber.

This request is less about supporting me than it is about supporting Substack itself. Substack receives a percentage of paid subscriptions, and those subscriptions help sustain the platform that allows independent writers to reach readers without traditional gatekeepers.

To make this effort something larger than myself, I will be donating my earnings from paid subscriptions each month to charity.

Rather than choosing the charities on my own, I’ll solicit your recommendations. Each month, subscribers will have an opportunity to suggest organizations, and I will select a different charity to receive that month’s proceeds. Together, we can support causes that matter to our community while also helping sustain the platform that brings us together.

Whether you choose to subscribe, remain a free subscriber, or simply continue reading, please know that my gratitude remains exactly the same. Your presence here is what has made this experience meaningful.

And now, a brief look ahead.

When Confluence reaches its final chapter, another journey will begin. My next serialized novel is titled A Man’s Reach.

Set along the rugged coastlines of Northern Ireland and the waters of the Irish Sea, it is a story of longing, broken promises, and the dangerous pull of love. It explores the distances we place between ourselves and the people we cannot forget. The sea plays as important a role as any character, carrying both promises and secrets between the shores it touches.

I look forward to sharing that journey with you in the months ahead.

Until then, thank you for reading, for your encouragement, and for being part of this remarkable community.

Mile buiochas,

Daire xx

“Are you sure about moving in together?”

Malcolm laughed. “Jesus Christ.”

“What?”

“Listen tae yerself.”

“I’m asking if you’ve thought it through.”

“We’ve been taegether nearly two years.”

“That’s not an answer.”

Malcolm shook his head. “Ye spend two months telling yerself Leo needs space, then start interrogating me about Connor moving in with me.”

CONNOR:

I let myself into the flat and quietly closed the door behind me. sombr’s “Back to Friends” floated through the flat. The smell of bacon cooking drifted from the kitchen. Bowie was sprawled on the floor beside Wyatt, his head resting on his paws while Wyatt moved between the stove and the counter. For a moment, I stood there, remembering. A year ago, this had been my life. Then Bowie lifted his head. The second he saw me, he bolted straight into my arms before I could even say his name.

“Bowie… get back here.” Wyatt chased Bowie to the living room and saw me. “Connor.”

For a second, neither of us moved. Then Wyatt crossed the living room in three strides and wrapped me in a hug that nearly lifted me off the floor.

“Jesus,” he said. “Look at you.”

I laughed. “It’s only been a year.”

“A year’s a long time.”

Bowie wedged himself between us, whining and demanding attention until Wyatt finally let me go.

“You got bigger.”

“I did not.”

“The first time I met you, you were a skinny twink with bleached hair.”

Connor rolled his eyes at me. “That’s not true. I was never a twink.”

“And you were trying very hard to convince me to take you home with me.”

Connor laughed. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Wyatt smiled for the first time since I’d walked in.

“How was the flight?”

“Long.”

“Malcolm said you slept through most of it.”

“Malcolm exaggerates.”

“Aye, he does,” Wyatt said in a terrible imitation of a Scottish accent.

I groaned.

“I’ve missed you, Connor.” The smile lingered on Wyatt’s face for a moment before fading. Only then did I notice it. The flat looked the same. But Leo’s baseball cap was missing from the hook where it always hung, and the extra pair of running shoes by the door were gone.

“Malcolm told me about Leo.”

“We’re giving each other some space.”

I waited. “How much space?”

“It’s been two months.”

Silence settled between us. Malcolm had told me not to ask. I understood why. I had loved Wyatt in so many ways over the years. As a friend. As the man who took me in when I needed somewhere to belong. For a while, as something more. I’d seen Wyatt love without restraint. I’d seen him broken. Now he looked like someone who’d decided feeling nothing was safer than feeling anything at all. I sat at the kitchen counter while he filled the kettle.

We talked about Northwestern, graduation, professors I’d never have to see again, and Malcolm’s insistence that I was incapable of packing a suitcase properly. It felt good. Normal. I kept waiting for the right moment to tell him about Jace. Every time I thought I’d found it, I let it pass. After everything Wyatt had been through with Sam... and now Leo. I wasn’t sure there ever was a right moment. The trouble was, Jace wasn’t in Chicago anymore. I’d brought him back to London with me.

“There’s something I haven’t told you.”

Wyatt looked up. “Okay.”

“I’ve been seeing someone while I was back in Illinois.”

Wyatt’s expression changed. “Connor...”

“Malcolm and I are fine.” I smiled, hoping he’d believe me. “Better than fine.”

“Then...”

“Jace came back to England with us.”

“Jace? Cody’s friend? Hunter’s roommate?”

Wyatt looked confused and annoyed, and all I could do was nod. “How does Malcolm feel about this? Why isn’t he with you?

“He stayed at the apartment.”

Wyatt frowned. “With Jace?”

“Yeah. I thought it would be good for them to have some time alone together.”

Wyatt looked at me. “So... the three of you?”

I nodded. “Yes. It’s possible to be in a relationship with more than one man.”

But then Wyatt smiled and said, “Is he good to you?”

“He is. And he’s good to Malcolm. “He’s only here for six months. I don’t know what happens after that.” I smiled and thought of Malcolm. “Whatever happens, this is my home now. And Malcolm will always come first.”

WYATT:

Connor stayed for dinner. We talked until it got late, then I helped him box up a few things he’d left in the flat when he was living here.

“I think that’s everything.”

I looked around the guest room. “Not quite. I want you to know that you still have a room here.”

“Wyatt…”

“I’m serious.”

“I’ve got Malcolm.”

“And Jace. I know.”

“This doesn’t stop being home because you don’t sleep here every night.” I reached into the bowl by the front door, picked up the spare key, and handed it to Connor.

Connor laughed. “I already have a key.”

“Then there’s no need to ever give it back.”

Connor hugged me. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

I was walking to the kitchen when I heard the front door open. Connor stood in the doorway.

“Did you forget something, Connor?”

“There’s someone here to see you.”

Charlie stood behind Connor.

“Do you want me to stay?” Connor asked quietly.

I shook my head. “No. Malcolm’s probably wondering where you are.”

Connor nodded once and stepped past Charlie.

Charlie waited until the front door closed behind Connor. Only then did he turn back to me. We stood staring at each other.

“It’s late, Charlie. Why are you here?”

“I remember chasing you across the school yard the day you found out about your mother. You wouldn’t let anybody near you.” Charlie smiled. “You bit me.”

“I did.” I laughed despite myself.

“Hard.”

“I thought you were gonna beat me up.”

Charlie grinned. “I was trying to stop you from running away.”

“You did.”

“No.” Charlie smiled sadly. “Not then. But I spent a lot of years wishing I had. You think I’m the reason you don’t trust people.”

I didn’t know what to say, so I said nothing.

“I’m not.”

“You didn’t come here to talk about something that happened 30 years ago, Charlie. What’s this about?”

“It’s about Leo.”

Hearing those words come out of Charlie’s mouth scared me. “Is Leo okay?”

“He’s okay. Was he good to you?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“Answer it. Before Milan. Was he good to you?”

“Yes.”

“After Milan?”

“I didn’t give him much of a chance to be.”

I wondered why Charlie was asking me these questions. Were they back together?

“Leo told me that the two of you never talked about being monogamous, but he was, until Milan. So I don’t think you can call what he did cheating. Yeah, he spent a couple of days in Milan with some model, and they fucked. Don’t let Milan erase everything that came before it,” Charlie said quietly. “When I saw you at Malcolm’s party that night, I thought maybe I’d been given another chance with you.”

The words caught me off guard. Charlie looked at me for a long moment before shaking his head.

“I don’t want another chance.”

I searched his face, wondering if I’d heard him correctly.

“I had mine,” he said. A sad smile touched his lips.

Neither of us spoke. For years, I’d convinced myself that Charlie was the unfinished chapter of my life. Hearing him say those words felt strangely like watching someone close a book I’d never been able to put back on the shelf.

Then he looked me straight in the eye. “I just don’t want you to throw yours away.”

Charlie gave me one last sad smile. Then he turned and let himself out.

I stood there for a long time with my hand still resting on the doorknob. I went into the kitchen and tidied up. As I was putting things away, I found Leo’s mug; the same one he always used, in the cupboard where he kept it. I took it down. Rinsed it beneath the tap. Dried it. Then I slid it back into the empty space where it had been.

I stood there for a long time, staring at the cupboard after I’d closed the door. I wasn’t sure I was right anymore.

JACE:

This was the first time Connor had left Malcolm and me alone together. We both knew why without saying it.

I’d known about Malcolm for months. He was all Connor would talk about when we first started hanging out. When Malcolm flew to Chicago to visit Connor, I was certain that would be the end of us. Connor called once to tell me Malcolm had arrived safely, then I didn’t hear from him for three days. I kept imagining the conversation they were having and wondering if I’d ever see him again.

Then, one evening, they showed up together at my apartment.

We sat talking until well after midnight. Nobody argued. Nobody made promises they couldn’t keep. We were just three men trying to imagine a future none of us had expected. When we finally went to bed, we were a tangle of arms and legs, but Malcolm’s six-foot-three frame somehow fit around Connor and me as though there had always been room for all of us.

Now, it was just Malcolm and me. Malcolm suggested going to a pub for a pint. That’s where we were when Connor texted Malcom to say he was having dinner with Wyatt and wouldn’t be home for a few hours, and that he hoped we were “making the most of our time alone together.”

“What does that mean?”

“Ye’re no’ missin’ what he’s really sayin’, are ye?”

“That we’re not supposed to wait up?”

Malcolm laughed. “Close.”

We walked back to Malcolm’s flat without speaking. As soon as we walked in, he turned his head slightly, his eyes finding mine. “Can I kiss ye?” he asked.

I nodded.

He leaned in slowly, pressing deeper when I opened for him. The kiss was unhurried, his tongue sliding against mine. His hand slid to the back of my neck, fingers threading into my hair. He kissed me again, deeper this time, tongue exploring slowly, drawing a desperate sound from me; my cock half-hard from the closeness.

“Let’s take this tae the bedroom.” He led me down the short hallway to his bedroom. The door closed behind us with a soft click.

His fingers worked the buttons of my shirt slowly and carefully. When the shirt fell open, he pushed it off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor. His meaty hands slid up my bare chest, his calloused thumbs brushing over my nipples.

He tugged his own t-shirt over his head, tossing it aside, and pulled off his jeans and briefs. His cock flopped out, thick and uncut. A glistening string of precum hung from the tip.

He hooked his fingers into the waistband of my jeans. “Take these off.”

MALCOLM:

Jace pulled off his jeans and briefs, then sank down on his knees. He smiled up at me, and leaned in, sliding my foreskin back, licking the tip, taking the head into his mouth. My cock twitched in his mouth at the sight of his lips covered in my precum, and stretched around my girth. His moans grew louder, more desperate and needy. He’d done this before, usually with Connor on his knees beside him. “There’s a good lad. Nae need tae share it tonight.”

Jace grinned, hand still moving, his thumb circling the head of my cock, then he dove back in, deeper this time, burying his nose in my pubes.

“Yer mouth… Jesus Christ, Jace.” The wet slurping sounds he made were obscene and made my cock throb in his mouth. His free hand cupped my balls and gently pulled, rolling them in his palm, pushing me close to the edge. My fingers tightened in his hair. “Shit…STOP…Not yet. Stand up.” I lifted an arm and fisted my hand in his hair. “Lick”

JACE:

I buried my nose in Malcolm’s armpit, inhaling his musky scent, and licked the briny sweat like a thirsty animal. He pushed me back on the bed. His broad, hairy chest and soft belly settled warm and solid on me, his thick, heavy cock pressed against my thigh. He kissed me again, slow and deep. I tangled my fingers into his thick, ginger beard. His hands roamed my chest, his thumbs brushing over my nipples. He pressed soft kisses to my collarbone, the heat of his mouth on my neck, his teeth grazing enough to leave marks, his tongue circling one nipple, then the other, sucking until it hardened, then gently biting. He moved lower, kisses trailing over my abs, tracing each ridge with slow, deliberate licks. Lower still, between my legs, his breath hot against my skin. He looked up at me, eyes dark with lust, and lapped up the precum leaking from my cock.

He reached up, pressed his fingers to my lips and told me to open my mouth. He slid two fingers in, told me to get them wet, then he pressed one against my hole, circling the rim. He pushed it in and began fingering me slowly, in and out, before adding the second finger. Malcolm’s hands were large and rough with fingers as thick as two of mine put together. “Fuuuck,” I groaned, arching off the mattress.

He flipped me over so I was on all fours, spread my ass cheeks wide and licked a sloppy, wet stripe from my taint to my hole, and ran his tongue around the rim. Then he buried his face in my crack and ate my ass until he had enough of me begging him to fuck me.

“Yer plump arse is gonna get us both in trouble.” His voice was low and rough. He lubed his cock and pushed in slowly—inch by inch—filling me completely.

“Fuck… your cock’s… so deep and thick.” Malcolm pulled me back against his chest and clamped a hand over my mouth. “Ye love this big cock, don’t ye?”

I nodded, moaning into his hand.

“Connor’s no’ one for sharin’, so consider yerself somethin’ special.” He gripped my hair and yanked my head back. Our mouths crashed together, no tenderness, just feral hunger. His beard was matted with sweat and the earthy scent of my ass. I thought about Connor and the taste of his ass on Malcolm’s tongue after he rimmed him.

Malcolm dug his fingers into my hips and began fucking me slowly while we made out. Every thrust was like he was fucking into me deeper and harder. I felt myself opening for him, welcoming every inch, consumed by a reckless desperation. Our moans grew louder. The bedroom filled with the wet, obscene sounds of skin slick with sweat, and Malcolm’s balls slapping against my ass with each thrust, his voice low and rough. “Connor’s mine. Dinnae ever doubt that.” He groaned. “Yer hearin’ me?”

I nodded.

Malcolm’s breath was hot against my ear. “I’ll look after ye too. Just know yer place.” His strong arms coiled around my chest, claiming me.

I laid my head back on his shoulder and started to come, untouched, spraying my load all over the sheets and pillows.

Malcolm kept fucking me, thrusting relentlessly. He bit down on my shoulder and unloaded in my ass with a deep growl, hips jerking with every pulse.

CONNOR:

I texted Malcolm to let him know I was in a cab and on my way home. The apartment was quiet when I walked in, but the living room lights were still on.

“Malcolm?” No answer. “Jace?”

The bedroom was empty. The sheets were twisted at the foot of the bed, and the air was thick with the smell of sex and sweat.

I followed the sound of running water down the hall. The bathroom door stood slightly open. Malcolm and Jace stood beneath the shower, talking softly, their voices barely audible over the water.

I watched for a moment. Not because I felt jealous or shut out. Just the opposite. For months I’d been afraid that loving one of them meant losing the other. Instead, I’d somehow found my way to both. I closed the door as quietly as I’d opened it and went back to the bedroom feeling overwhelmed with tenderness.

While they finished showering, I stripped the bed, put on fresh sheets, and lit a candle. Malcolm walked into the bedroom, naked, drying his hair with a towel. He stopped when he saw me.

“There ye are. I was wonderin’ where ye’d got tae.”

Before I could answer, he crossed the room, took me in his arms and kissed me slowly, passionately, as though he’d been waiting to do it all evening. “I missed ye.”

His eyes drifted to the freshly made bed. The candle. Then back to me.

“Ye’ve been fussin’. Fresh sheets?”

I shrugged, feeling a little self-conscious.

“How’s Wyatt?”

“Lonely.”

“Aye.” Malcolm nodded. “I like the candle.”

“You bought it.”

“Did I?”

Jace was standing in the doorway. Naked. Hair still damp. None of us said anything for a moment. Malcom held me close against his bare chest and reached out a hand toward Jace.

“C’mere, lad.”

To Be Continued.

Wyatt and Connor

A quick update for everyone waiting for Chapter Two of Confluence.

I had an unexpected medical procedure this week that put me a little behind schedule. The good news is that everything went well, and I’m already on the mend.

As a result, Chapter Two will be arriving a bit later than planned.

The chapter brings several important storylines back into focus, including Connor’s return to London, Malcolm’s future, and a few long-awaited conversations that will shape what comes next for Wyatt and Leo.

Thank you, as always, for your patience, your support, and for continuing this journey with me.

More soon.

Daire xx

noun

us /ˈkɑːn.fluː.əns/

uk /ˈkɒn.fluː.əns/

1. the place where two rivers flow together and become one larger river

2. a situation in which two things join or come together

PRECIS

After the death of his mother, Wyatt Roan falls deeply in love with Charlie, only to be devastated when Charlie betrays him and disappears from his life. Years later, Wyatt builds a life in Chicago with his husband, Sam, but their marriage begins to unravel after Sam starts an affair with Hunter. What begins as an attempt to save the relationship ultimately destroys it.

Following the divorce, Wyatt transfers to his firm’s London office to start over. There, he reconnects with Connor Walsh, a college student he first met years earlier in Chicago, who is now studying abroad at Imperial College. Wyatt also forms a close friendship with Malcolm Fiddes, a fiercely loyal Scotsman who becomes both confidant and protector.

As Wyatt settles into his new life, he meets Leo Finley, a British photographer whose quiet presence gradually becomes something far more important. While returning briefly to Chicago forces Wyatt to confront painful memories, old wounds, and the life he left behind, it also brings clarity. By the time he returns to London, he finally understands that home is no longer a place.

It’s the people he has chosen to love.

▫ ▫ ▫

LEO:

“Do you know that guy?”

I looked up from the dinner I’d been pushing around my plate for the last ten minutes and saw Wyatt standing at the bar. As soon as our eyes met, he turned and walked out of the restaurant.

“I’ll be right back,” I said, sliding out from the booth. I ran out of the restaurant, hoping to catch him, but Wyatt was already stepping into a cab, and before I could stop him, the cab drove off.

I was having dinner with the art director from Creed. Despite my telling him about Wyatt, he kept asking me out. He was so persistent that I finally gave in. I went back to the table and apologized, explaining why I needed to leave.

I jumped in a cab and went to Wyatt’s flat. When he opened the door, the expression on his face was hard to read. His eyes stared directly into mine.

“We need to talk,” I said. “Can I come in?”

Wyatt didn’t answer; he just turned and walked into the living room. I followed him. Bowie jumped into my lap when I sat down on the couch. Wyatt sat in an armchair facing me. I started to explain. “It wasn’t a date.”

“It looked like one.”

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it? You were smiling at him like you’d forgotten the rest of the world existed.”

“You know me better than that.”

“Do I?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I watched him lean across the table. You let him touch you, Leo.”

“Wyatt, Don’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“This. The suspicion. Not trusting me.”

Wyatt’s expression softened for a moment. “Leo...”

“You’re the one who decided what I needed after Charlie. You said I should have my own place.” Leo swallowed.

“Not so you could see other people. I never said that.” Wyatt looked away. “If that’s what you want, you should have told me.”

“It’s you who needs to figure out what you want. “You’re a coward.” I walked out and closed the door behind me.

▫ ▫ ▫

Two days later, I stepped off the elevator into the vast lobby overlooking the Duomo.

I shouldn’t be here, but I was.

This was more than two strangers meeting for dinner, and we’d both known it when I said yes. It would be easy to turn around and get back on the elevator. He hadn’t seen me yet. But I didn’t do that. I pulled out my phone, hoping there’d be a text from Wyatt. Nothing. I called him from the hotel last night after I arrived in Milan. He didn’t answer. I left a message. We hadn’t spoken since our argument after he saw me in the restaurant two nights ago.

Three texts. Two phone calls. No reply. Wyatt and I had never quite decided what we were to each other. Maybe that was the problem.

I was in Milan to shoot a photo spread for Vogue Hommes. There was already a flurry of activity when I arrived at Quadrilatero della Moda at 6:00 AM. Stylists steaming racks of clothes, MUA’s, models crowded together smoking cigarettes and laughing. They might as well have come from the same casting sheet—tall, lean, pale, razor-sharp cheekbones, impossible eyes.

Then he walked in. The model everyone in the industry seemed to know by first name alone. Mattia. He was not like the others. He was athletic and muscular. His skin was the color of dark umber, smooth and unblemished. There was confidence in the way he moved. With his broad shoulders and cheeky smile, he drew the attention of everyone around him. He acted like he belonged wherever he was.

Flirting was part of the job. Models flirted with photographers. Photographers flirted back. Usually, it meant nothing. Whatever was happening between Mattia and me didn’t feel like part of the job.

By the time we broke for lunch, he’d asked me to dinner. His English was nearly flawless, but every now and then an Italian vowel lingered a fraction of a second longer than it should have. It made him even more seductive. And now he was standing across the lobby waiting for me. He turned and waved. We were doing this.

I walked to where he was standing and extended my hand, but he leaned in and pressed both cheeks against mine. “I’m glad you came,” he said softly into my ear.

I couldn’t help but notice people looking at us as the maître d’ showed us to our table.

“You turn a lot of heads,” I said.

“I think they stare at you, Leo.”

Thankfully, a waiter appeared asking if we’d like something from the bar. Mattia ordered a scotch and a beer for me.

“Wyatt… My boyfriend is a scotch drinker.” I said, unthinking.

“Ah, you have a boyfriend. Does he know you’re having dinner with me?”

I tripped over explaining that Wyatt wouldn’t mind. “Do you have a—”

“Sì,” he interrupted before I could finish asking. His name is Rémy. We met when I moved to Paris six years ago.”

I asked him to tell me about himself, but all he said was that he grew up in Pavia, then moved to Milan to model.

“You’re British, yes? Where’s home?” he asked.

“England. Norwich, originally. I live in London now.”

“With your boyfriend?”

I took a sip of my beer before answering. “No. I have my own place. We’re still figuring things out. We’re not doing a very good job of it. We had a fight just before I left for Milan. He thought I was cheating on him.”

“Were you?”

“It’s complicated, but no.”

Mattia nodded, with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Ahh, complicated. You miss him?”

“I’m flying home tomorrow.”

“That’s a tragedy. You’ve seen almost none of Milan. Stay. What’s the hurry? I’ll show you the Milan tourists never see.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You think too much, Leo.”

“I do not.”

Mattia laughed. “You do, bello. After that, we drive to Pavia. My mother makes the best risotto in Lombardy.”

WYATT:

“I told him to date other people.”

Malcolm stared at me. “You what?”

“I said if he wasn’t sure about us, maybe he should—”

“Jesus, Wyatt. Yer head’s fu’ o’ mince. “Ye spent years grieving Charlie. Then years grieving Sam. The lad’s telling ye he wants a life with ye, and ye tell him tae go date somebody else.” Malcom shook his head. “Yer a fuckin’ idiot. C’mere.”

I stepped into Malcolm’s open arms. All my life, there had been no safer place.

His arms had embraced me, shoved me against walls, held me together, pinned me to a mattress, hauled me back to my feet, and protected me.

“I know trust doesn’t come easy tae ye.”

He squeezed me tighter. “But Leo’s a good man.” Malcolm hesitated. “He’d have my hide if he knew I was tellin’ ye this, but he once said somethin’ I haven’t forgotten.”

I looked up.

“He said whenever somethin’ happens, good or bad, the first person he wants tae tell is you.”

“What if I’ve already fucked it up?”

“Then stop makin’ it worse. The lad’s still talkin’ tae ye, isn’t he?” Malcolm squeezed the back of Wyatt’s neck. ““I need tae be headin’ home. I promised Connor we’d FaceTime tonight. There are only two months left before he graduates.”

“Already?”

Malcolm nodded. “Aye. Doesn’t seem possible, does it?”

After Malcolm left, I picked up my phone to call Leo, but I realized Milan was an hour later than London, and it was too late, so I sent him a text.

“I’m sorry. I was wrong. Come home soon.”

Three dots appeared.

Vanished.

Appeared again.

Vanished.

I found myself holding my breath.

Finally, the message arrived.

I’m staying in Milan for a couple more days.

I stared at the message. A few days ago, I would have asked why. Tonight, I already knew the answer might hurt.

LEO:

Mattia was waiting outside the hotel when I came downstairs the next morning. I stepped out into the bright morning sun and into the shadow of the Duomo di Milano. The Italian air felt different from the air in London. It was a hot day, and I was already sweating through my shirt.

“Morning, Mattia.”

He shook his head. “Still doing that?”

“Doing what?”

“Calling me Mattia.”

“It’s your name.”

“It’s the name my nonna uses when she’s annoyed with me.”

I laughed.

He opened the passenger door.

“You can call me Matt.”

“Okay. Matt.”

We wandered into the arched glass halls of Galleria Vittorio Emanuele II and walked through the massive brick courtyards of Castello Sforzesco. We took a lift up to the Duomo rooftop, and the panoramic views of the city were absolutely unreal; its delicate spires climb straight into the cloudless sky. When we stopped for lunch, Matt stepped away to take a call from Rémy. When he came back to the table, I asked if everything was alright.

“I forgot to call him to say I was staying in Milan longer. May I?” he asked, picking up his phone to take my picture. I nodded yes. “Rémy asked me what kind of trouble I was getting into. I told him I’d send him a picture.”

We headed to the Navigli District for dinner just as the sun started to set. The canals were glowing with warm light. Today was supposed to be Matt showing me around Milan, nothing more. But at dinner, his leg rested against mine under the table, and my body had already decided this was something else.

“Was Rémy expecting you back in Paris today? I hope he’s not upset that you’re staying in Milan to show me around?” I asked.

“No. He’s not upset. We’re free to do whatever we like when we’re not together. He took a sip of his wine. “And Wyatt?”

“Like I said, we’re still figuring things out.”

Mattia listened without interrupting.

“He’s not easy to know at first,” I said. “Most people see the lawyer. The confidence. The guy who always seems to know exactly what he’s doing.” I smiled despite myself. “But that’s not really him.”

Mattia tilted his head.

“His mother died when he was fifteen. After that, he got very good at taking care of himself. Maybe too good. He lets people in slowly.” I looked down at my glass. “When he loves someone, he loves them completely. He just doesn’t always know how to say it.”

“And you?” Matt asked quietly.

I thought about Wyatt standing in the doorway of his flat. “I thought he needed me,” I said. “Now I’m not so sure.”

Matt stood abruptly. “Come.”

I looked up.

“Tonight we dance.” His grin widened. “No arguments.”

Matt drove me back to the hotel so I could shower and change. I picked up my phone to call Wyatt, but every version of the conversation ended the same way, with us arguing about things neither of us seemed able to say out loud.

There was a long line of people waiting to get into the club, but the doorman knew Mattia and motioned us in. Mattia took my hand and led me to the dance floor through the crowd of moving bodies, pushing us closer together. I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. I remembered Wyatt’s text. Come home soon.

Mattia’s hands wrapped around my waist. He pulled my shirt off over my head, then he lifted his own shirt off. His chest glistened with sweat. A sweet musk and heat radiated off his skin. His muscled shoulders, broad enough to eclipse the world behind them, tapered into the hard planes of his chest and nipples, barely a shade darker than his skin. He ran his hands down my back to my ass and pulled me against him. He leaned in and pressed his lip to my ear.

“I’m going to kiss you now.”

He pressed his lips against mine, pushing his tongue in. I didn’t stop him. I didn’t want him to stop. We kissed until everything around us seemed to disappear. Then, he pulled back and began kissing down my neck, turning me around in his arms. I felt the hard length of cock press against my ass.

“There’s one more place I want to take you tonight, mio. Voglio portarti a letto. I want to take you to bed.”

We left the club and went back to his hotel.

Matt pushed every thought I had about right or wrong, every thought I had about Wyatt, out of my head. I was on my knees, gazing up at him, unbuckling his belt, sliding the zipper down, and pulling his still flaccid cock out. I took it in my mouth, feeling it grow hard and thick against my tongue. His fingers twisted in my hair, pressing my nose into the tangle of coarse black pubic hair. He only let go when I choked and gasped for air. He wrapped his hand around his rigid cock and slid the foreskin back from the pink head, squeezing a thick, milky pearl of precum into my open mouth. I went back to sucking his cock until it pulsed in my mouth, squirting more cum than I could swallow. I didn’t think there was anything romantic between us. This was both of us needing to fuck, that’s all it was. He pulled off the rest of his clothes and lifted me onto the bed, pushing my knees back to my chest. No foreplay, no kissing, I knew what he wanted from the way he ate my ass. I wanted it too. He lubed his cock and pressed the head against my hole. No words. No condom. He pushed in slowly until his balls rested against my taint. I felt every thick inch of him fucking into me. He propped himself on his elbows and pushed his sweaty armpit into my face. He needed a shower, but I inhaled his smell and licked his sweat like it was a delicious drug. I knew he was close when he started thrusting into me. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine. “Ti riempirò del mio seme.” I felt his cock throb as he unloaded in me. He pulled out and flipped me over onto all fours and fucked me again, harder this time because I begged him to. He smacked my hand away from my cock when I reached for it. “No. Ti faro venire. I will make you come.” His fingers dug into my hips, and he came again with a growl. Then he flipped onto his back. “In my mouth,” he said. He fingered my hole while I fucked his face. When I warned him I was close, he gripped my ass cheeks, moaning, as I came down his throat.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but when I woke up, my arm was lying across Mattia’s chest. I slid out from under the sheet and closed the bathroom door behind me. I couldn’t look in the mirror.

MATTIA:

The sound of the shower woke me up. Leo wasn’t beside me in bed. We’d only been asleep a couple of hours, if that. We’d barely made it into the hotel room before Leo was on his knees, and I was coming down his throat. Lying in bed now, I could still smell him on my skin and taste him on my tongue. I wanted more of him. My cock was growing hard, remembering the filthy sound of Leo’s moans and begging while I ate his ass and fucked him. He took my cock better than Rémy. His hole stretched around my cock, giving way with every movement. I bred him twice, missionary, doggie, then sucked him off. He came so much in my mouth.

The shower noise stopped. Leo walked out with a towel pulled tight against his buttocks and over the curved jut of his cock.

“Come back to bed. We can fuck more before we drive to Pavia.”

“No. I’m not going to Pavia with you, Mattia. Thank you for inviting me, and for yesterday and… last night. But I need to go home.

▫ ▫ ▫

LEO:

I waited until I was at the airport. I stared at Wyatt’s number for several seconds before pressing call.

The phone rang once.

Twice.

Then:

“Leo?”

▫ To Be Continued ▫

Part Three, CONFLUENCE, will be about what happens after the flood: the people who stay, the bonds that deepen, and the lives rebuilt from everything that nearly came apart.

Their story isn’t over yet. CONFLUENCE arrives June, 2026.

Ben held Karl close in his arms. “I don’t want you to be scared. What I said before about not being all yours was wrong. Everything I am is yours.”

Karl carried Ben’s words with him for weeks afterward. Sometimes while lying awake in anonymous motel rooms. Sometimes, standing side stage listening to whistles, applause, and shouted names echo through the dark before the lights went down. Sometimes in the lonely silence after the shows were over.

By the time October arrived, everyone seemed to be preparing to leave something behind.

Zach accepted the position at Cornell early that month. The museum director agreed to let him wait until January to start, giving him time to sell the condo, help prepare his replacement at the institute, and figure out what a life in Ithaca was supposed to look like. The next few months became a blur of highways and airports — Cleveland to Shawhan, Shawhan to Ithaca, Ithaca back to Cleveland — threaded together by long phone calls and even longer silences between Peter and Zach. Some days, they talked excitedly about the future. On other days, neither of them seemed certain there was one.

When Peter finally decided what to do about Pommel Ranch, he sold it to Ben and Karl for far less than it was worth. Ben protested. Karl did too. Peter ignored both of them and called it a wedding present.

Halfway through Markwald’s tour, Peter stopped traveling with the band. He stayed on as their manager, but after years on the road, he seemed relieved to step away from the cramped vans, late nights, and endless motel rooms.

“You’ll be fine without me,” he told them. “Besides, now you’ll all have more room in the van.”

At the institute, Ethan slipped naturally into the responsibilities Zach had gradually begun handing over to him. By the time of Zach’s last day, the Board’s decision to promote Ethan felt less like a gamble than an inevitability.

The Saturday before Thanksgiving, Zach invited Ethan to meet him at the neighborhood rec center to shoot hoops. Ethan had assumed it would just be the two of them, so when he walked into the gym and saw Zach already running layup drills with four other guys, something in him sank a little. After hasty introductions, they split into three-on-three, shirts versus skins.

Zach tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it toward the bleachers. “Ethan’s with me,” he announced. “Losers buy the first round.” Then he hooked an arm around Ethan’s shoulders and pulled him briefly against his bare side. “Ethan, maybe don’t let on that you played varsity basketball when you were at Wooster.”

Skins won 11-3, but despite all the fist bumps and bro hugs, Ethan wished the afternoon had turned out differently. He even made up an excuse about why he couldn’t join them for a beer.

Zach caught up to him in the parking lot. “Hey,” he said. “You sure you don’t want to come with us?” I think you just got drafted to replace me.’

“No, I should go home.”

“What are you up to tonight?” Zach asked.

“I’ll probably just make some dinner and watch a movie.”

“Why don’t you come over? Pete’s in Kentucky at the ranch. So it will just be you and me. The kitchen’s all packed up, but we could order out. Zach looked down for a second before adding quietly, “Tonight might be the last time we get to spend any time alone.”

Until that moment, Ethan hadn’t realized how much of himself had been built around Zach still being here. He’d been leaving for months now — in conversations, in packed boxes, in forwarding emails and farewell lunches, but hearing him say it out loud made it suddenly feel real.

▫ ▫ ▫

Ethan showered, shaved, and got ready as if he were going on a date. He told himself it wasn’t one; that he might still go out to the bars afterward. But Zach had said he wanted them to spend some time alone. Ethan changed clothes twice before settling on something that looked right, and when he ran back inside for the bottle of wine he’d nearly forgotten, he realized he was already late.

When he finally arrived, Zach opened the door and pulled him into a quick, warm hug. “C’mon in. I ordered pizza. I hope that’s okay.”

“Pizza’s perfect. I brought wine.”

“We made a pretty good team today,” Zach said. “You definitely made an impression on the guys. Especially Curtis.”

“Who?” Ethan asked.

“Dark floppy hair. Cavs jersey. You were talking to him after the game.” Zach smiled faintly. “He asked me to give you his number. You should call him.”

“I thought all those guys were straight.”

“They are. Except Curtis and me.” Zach grabbed two plates from the counter. “And I’m pretty sure LaShawn goes both ways.”

After they finished the pizza, Zach gathered the plates and carried them into the kitchen. When he came back, he nodded toward the couch. “Come sit with me.”

Something in his voice made Ethan’s stomach tighten.

Zach sat forward, elbows on his knees, rubbing his hands together once before looking over at him. “There’s something I should probably say out loud.” He gave a small, uneasy laugh. “Or maybe I shouldn’t. I don’t know.”

“You’re scaring me a little,” Ethan said softly.

“I just don’t want you to misunderstand what this is.” Zach looked down for a moment. “You matter to me. A lot. Not because of work. Not because you help me out. You just… do.”

Ethan stayed quiet.

“If things had been different,” Zach said carefully, “if I hadn’t been your teacher, if we hadn’t worked together afterward… maybe you and I would’ve crossed a line somewhere along the way.” He exhaled through his nose. “I’d be lying if I said I never considered it.”

Ethan stared at the floor between his shoes.

“But I couldn’t let myself think about you that way,” Zach continued. “So I stopped myself.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

“I fell for you at Wooster,” Ethan finally said. “Hard.” He smiled faintly, embarrassed by the admission. “Maybe it was just some stupid college crush, but it was the first time I ever felt that way about someone. It was kind of amazing.” His expression shifted. “And also terrible.”

Zach nodded slowly. “Yeah. I know that feeling.”

“The day I walked into that interview and saw you sitting there…” Ethan shook his head once. “It all came back at once.”

He looked up at Zach then, forcing himself to hold his gaze. “I don’t think love has to be returned to be real,” he said quietly.

“I’ll be right back.” Zach disappeared down the hallway and returned a minute later carrying a small black box. He sat beside Ethan again and handed it to him.

“I was going to wait to give this to you,” he said quietly, “but I think now’s the right time.”

Inside was a watch. Ethan stared at it for a moment before carefully lifting it from the box. On the back, engraved in small, clean letters, were the words: “Time will explain”.

“It’s from Persuasion,” Zach said. “One of my favorite novels.”

Ethan traced the engraving with his thumb. Then he looked up at him. “Does it have a happy ending?”

A sad smile touched Zach’s face. “Yeah. It does.”

The room went quiet again.

“There’s somebody out there for you, Ethan,” Zach said softly. “Somebody who can give you everything you deserve. And when he shows up, you can’t let me stand in the way of that.”

Ethan looked down, swallowing hard. “I’m glad you and Pete found each other,” he said after a moment. “He’s really good for you.”

“He likes you a lot,” Zach said. “He wanted us to have tonight together.”

Ethan gave a small, fragile smile. “I don’t suppose he meant I should spend the night with you.”

Zach huffed out a quiet laugh and shook his head. “No. Probably not.”

Ethan nodded once and stood. “I should go.”

“I’ll call you an Uber.”

“That’s okay. I’m fine.” Ethan closed the watch box carefully. “Thank you for this. Seriously.”

Zach walked him to the door. For a moment, neither of them moved. They just stood there facing each other, the air suddenly heavy with everything they hadn’t said. Then Zach stepped forward and pulled him into a hug. Ethan held on tightly.

When they finally pulled apart, Ethan’s eyes were wet. Before he could lose his nerve, he leaned in and kissed Zach softly on the mouth. It lasted only a second, maybe two, but long enough to make his chest ache afterward. Then he stepped outside. The door closed gently behind him.

Ethan stood on the empty sidewalk, breathing hard, staring out at the night sky. It hit him all at once — the loneliness, the wanting, the fragile hope he’d carried around for years without ever really admitting it to himself.

He reached into his pocket for a tissue and felt a folded scrap of paper instead. Confused, he pulled it out and unfolded it beneath the streetlight. A phone number. And above it, written in hurried block letters: Curtis.

▫ ▫ ▫

The moving truck pulled into the ranch driveway just after sunrise on November twenty-seventh. Frost silvered the pasture fences and the dead grass around the barn. Peter stood on the porch with a cup of coffee gone cold in his hands while the movers carried boxes out of the house.

Zach stayed mostly quiet that morning. Every so often, he touched Peter’s back as he passed him, like he understood Peter might come apart if nobody kept a hand on him.

Ben helped Zach pack the Suburban while Karl wandered restlessly from room to room, pretending to look for anything forgotten. Nobody said much.

It wasn’t real until Peter saw the bare walls in the den where photographs and records had hung for years. Then it hit him all at once. Ray was gone. Matt was gone. The years were gone. And now this life was ending too.

By noon, the moving van doors slammed shut. Peter stood beside his car while Ben and Karl walked down from the porch. For a second, all three men just looked at one another. Peter laughed once under his breath and wiped at his eyes. “Jesus Christ,” he said. “I used to think I was good at saying goodbye.”

Ben’s expression softened immediately.

Peter shook his head. “Ever since Ray…” His voice caught. “Now every goodbye feels like maybe the last one.”

Karl looked down at the gravel a moment before stepping closer. “Hey.” Peter looked up at him. Karl’s eyes were already red. “I don’t really know how to do this part.” He gave a small, embarrassed shrug. “You know I’m not good at serious conversations.”

Peter laughed quietly through his tears. “That’s not true.”

“It is.” Karl swallowed hard. “I just… I need you to know something before you go.”

For a moment, he couldn’t seem to get the words out. “You changed my life, Pete,” he said finally. “Mine and Ben’s both.”

Peter looked away, emotional already.

“No, listen.” Karl stepped closer. “When I met you, I was a mess. Half the time, I didn’t even know who I was supposed to be.” He laughed shakily. “You taught me damn near everything important. Music. Patience. How not to run every time things got hard.”

Peter covered his mouth with his hand.

“And nobody’s ever protected me the way you did.” Karl’s voice broke slightly. “Not even close.”

Peter pulled him into a hug before Karl could finish. Karl held on hard, like he was trying not to fall apart in front of everybody.

Over Karl’s shoulder, Peter saw Ben standing quietly beside Zach, both of them giving them the space to have this moment. When Karl finally let go, Ben stepped forward and wrapped Peter in a hug of his own. Strong and steady.

“We’ll come up once you’re settled,” Ben said. “Help you with the barn, and bring your horse up.”

Peter nodded. He couldn’t speak yet.

Ben kissed his cheek once and smiled sadly. “Go be happy, Pete.”

Peter laughed through tears again. “I’ll do my best.”

As they pulled away from the ranch, Peter looked back once in the rearview mirror. Ben had an arm around Karl’s shoulders.

Peter kept driving before the sight could break his heart all over again. The ranch disappeared behind them mile by mile. Peter kept glancing at the rearview mirror until there was nothing left to see.

Beside him, Zach sat quietly looking out at the winter fields passing beside the road. “You know something?”

“What?” Peter asked.

“I think Ray would’ve liked seeing you this happy.”

Peter’s mouth tightened as emotion rose suddenly into his throat again. After a moment, he nodded once. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “I hope so.”

Zach lifted Peter’s hand and kissed his knuckles.

Ahead of them, the highway stretched north.

▫ ▫ ▫

The following March, Ben drove Karl to Lexington to meet up with the band before the start of a six-week North American tour. Karl promised he’d try to fly home whenever he could, but both of them knew how hard that would become once the tour fell into a rhythm of overnight drives, radio appearances, cheap motels, and too little sleep. Peter had been part of the previous tour — standing backstage, loading gear, managing finances, calling after them to behave themselves. Peter had booked all the dates, but without him there, the start of the tour felt strange.

L.A. was supposed to be the final stop on the tour. Instead, it became the end of Markwald. For weeks, the band had been unraveling. Crowds were showing up for Karl as much as the music, and the others had started resenting the attention that followed him from city to city. By Phoenix, everyone was exhausted and spoiling for a fight. Karl and the guitar player nearly tore each other apart backstage while the rest of the band watched in stunned silence. San Diego only made things worse. Nobody spoke unless they had to.

Karl called Peter the next morning, and by that afternoon, Peter was on a plane to Los Angeles. He gathered the band in his hotel room before the show, hoping he could still pull them back from the edge. But after an hour of arguments about songwriting credits, money, ego, and who had stopped trusting who first, Peter realized it was literally the end of the road.

Markwald played their final show that night.

Afterward, Karl sat outside the venue near the buses, devastated and talking about quitting music altogether. Peter stayed with him until he finally calmed down enough to listen. Then Peter made a phone call to a woman he’d known during his years with 4 X 4. Back then, Julie Berk was a junior assistant at a management company. Now she was one of the most respected managers in the industry. She was smart, ruthless, and famous for spotting talent before everyone else did. She agreed to sign Karl as a solo artist, but she wanted a clean slate after the public wreckage of Markwald.

A year later, Morrow had his debut album. By the following summer, he’d played Coachella and appeared on Saturday Night Live as the musical guest. From the outside, it looked like everything Karl had ever wanted.

At home, though, things had started to fray in quieter ways. Every time Karl came back to Kentucky, Ben seemed a little farther away from him. Their conversations turned brittle faster than they used to, and when Karl accused Ben of acting differently, Ben would fire back that Karl was the one who’d changed.

When Karl played Lollapalooza in Chicago, Ben promised he’d be there. Karl left a backstage pass waiting for him at will call and kept glancing toward the side of the stage between songs. But Ben never showed up. The moment Karl understood something had truly broken between them came after he flew home after being away for three weeks. Ben was supposed to pick him up at the airport. Instead, Ben’s brother Riley was waiting outside baggage claim.

“Ben couldn’t make it?” Karl asked.

Riley hesitated just long enough to tell Karl everything he needed to know. “He’s still in Cincinnati,” Riley said, already sounding guilty. By the time Riley started trying to explain, Karl had stopped listening.

Karl turned to the only person who might know what to do. Peter did what he always did — he listened. He always understood that Karl needed to find his own answers.

After that, Karl started flying home more often, and Ben joined him on tour once or twice. “Home” slowly became simple things again: long rides on horseback, fixing fences together, falling asleep in the same bed. Little by little, they started trusting each other again. Karl admitted he’d been thinking about leaving the industry once his commitments ended.

One night, while they sat on the porch listening to summer cicadas drone across the fields, Ben quietly said he wanted a house full of noise someday. Karl carried the moment with him on the road.

▫ ▫ ▫

Four years had passed since Peter and Zach moved to Spencer. By then, they were settled into the farmhouse they’d built together, sharing the property with three horses, six sheep, a goat, several half-feral barn cats, and Jasper, who had grown grey around the muzzle.

Late one afternoon, Peter got a phone call from Matt. The moment he heard Matt’s voice, something inside him tightened. They hadn’t spoken in years. At first, Matt sounded strangely calm. He said Ray had suffered a heart attack that morning. Peter stood frozen in the kitchen, one hand gripping the edge of the counter while Zach watched him from across the room.

Then Matt said Ray was gone.

Peter closed his eyes. For a second, he seemed to stop breathing altogether. Without saying a word, he handed the phone to Zach. “Tell him…” Peter swallowed hard. “Tell him I’m sorry for his loss.” Then he walked out of the house.

When Zach found him inside the barn, he was shoveling out the horse stalls. His face was streaked with tears. Zach took the shovel gently from his hands and pulled him against his chest while Peter finally broke apart. After that day, Zach no longer avoided talking about Ray and Matt.

One night, weeks later, he finally asked Peter why he wouldn’t talk to Matt. Peter sat quietly for a long time before answering.

“I knew Matt before I knew Ray,” he said. “We met on tour years ago when he was working as a roadie. Later, after he hurt his back loading equipment into a truck, Ray got Matt a job grooming horses at Ben’s brother’s farm.” He smiled faintly through the sadness. “He was my best friend. And then he and Ray….” Peter stared out toward the dark pasture beyond the porch. I know I should’ve talked to him,” he said quietly. “I know he’s hurting.”

A few days later, Zach called Matt without telling Peter and invited him to visit, hoping he and Peter could mend their friendship. When Matt showed up, Peter was angry at first, then the anger turned into tears, and then the tears turned into forgiveness.

Epilogue

After Zach left Cleveland, Ethan buried himself in work for a while. He went out with Curtis a few times, but somewhere along the way, they realized they liked each other better as friends.

Mostly, Ethan kept to himself after that. He worked late, played basketball with the guys on weekends, and slowly stopped measuring every new person against someone he’d loved years earlier.

Then one afternoon, while a tech from another department knelt beneath Ethan’s desk, untangling wires and swearing under his breath at the company’s ancient computer system, Ethan caught himself smiling and asked him out. For the first time in a long time, wanting someone didn’t hurt. One year later, they moved in together.

A couple of months after they reconciled, Matt started driving up to Spencer every other weekend. At first, he slept in the guest room. Then weekends quietly turned into longer stays, helping Peter repair fences, riding with Zach in the mornings, cooking dinner together while music played softly through the farmhouse, sharing the same bed.

At sixty-three, Peter no longer needed love to arrive like a storm. What he had with Zach and Matt was kinder than that. One autumn morning, Matt moved the last of his things into the farmhouse at Spencer. After that, nobody really spoke about where he lived anymore. Because he was home.

By 2028, Morrow had released three albums, won a Brit Award and a Grammy, and become far more famous than Karl had ever imagined. But the harder it tried to pull him in, the less he wanted it. He didn’t care about parties in the Hollywood Hills or magazine covers. He wanted quiet mornings in Kentucky. He wanted horses, thunderstorms, Ben’s hand at the small of his back, and a life that belonged to him again. So after weeks of talking it through with Ben and Peter, Karl decided to leave it all behind.

On the last night of the tour, Karl’s flight ran into bad weather. He landed late in Lexington and got home after three in the morning. He showered quietly downstairs, trying not to wake anyone, then made his way up the dark staircase. When he slipped into bed beside Ben, his hand brushed a warm body curled against Ben’s chest.

Karl nudged Ben awake. “Why is Lucas in our bed?”

Still half asleep, Ben smiled faintly. “Shhh. Hi, baby. You’re home. Don’t be mad. Sam’s here too. There was a thunderstorm, and they got scared.” He reached back for Karl’s hand beneath the blankets. “They missed their other daddy. And so did I.”

Ben and Karl fell asleep tangled together with their boys, held so tightly inside that small bed that nothing in the world could pull them apart.

* * *