My pulse stutters.
Lee looks over at me, a crooked smile on his face as he squints against the sun. “She’s excited for me. It’s been a long time since I’ve dated. And…I’ve never lived with a partner before.”
It takes me a second to find my voice. “So you admit we’re living together?”
Lee barks a laugh. “Caspian, you moved all your shit in the first week. We’re obviously living together.”
I can’t stop my smile, and Lee looks amused.
He shakes his head a little, reaching for my hand, his palm warm. “Sometimes I worry because it feels like it shouldn’t be so easy. But then I think about you going or…or something happening to you. I think about this changing, and it’s hard to breathe. And I realize…it’s not easy at all. It’s complex. And immense. And I don’t understand half of it. But I feel safe every time you’re near. I trust that. I just wish…”
He doesn’t finish his sentence, so I prompt him. “You wish?”
“I wish I could remember.”
I don’t need to ask him what. I roll his hand in mine, looking at the lines etched into his skin. His life, this one, a small piece of who he is.
“I want to show you something,” I tell him. “When we get home.”
He looks curious but nods, and I know this is the right choice. It’s time.
Lee and I finish our hike, him showing me a few of his favorite spots. I see the trail marker that led me here. The one I glimpsed earlier this year inside my head. The memory I’d yet to live.
When we get home, it’s midafternoon. Shelly greets us at the door, the little mountain climber leaping atop Lee’s shoulder.I give her chin a scratch, understanding her immensely. I feel the urge to climb this man often.
The two of us eat a quick snack before showering. Lee’s hands on my body have my blood pooling hot in an instant. Him dropping to his knees, brown eyes gazing up at me adoringly, has my heart falling a little deeper down that unending well.
Boneless and sated, we get dressed, and I tell Lee to wait in the living room while I grab what I need. It’s been a while, years, since I last looked at the letter. Not that it matters. I have the words memorized.
The paper is thick between my fingertips, a replica print of the original. My heart aches at the sight of it. Maybe it won’t help Lee remember. But I have to try.
He’s waiting on the couch when I get downstairs, one arm up on the couch back, his leg bent on the cushion and Shelly contentedly curled in the bend. He sees the paper in my hand and sits up a little taller.
“I found this by accident,” I tell him, sitting beside the pair. “Or…maybe I was led to it. I don’t know. Either way, I was in high school. We went on a trip to a museum, and they had a display on queer oppression throughout history. There was a plaque in front of this letter, explaining where it came from. It was donated by a woman whose mother found it in the house they’d lived in, tucked away under a loose floorboard. There was a whole bundle of them. The letters were personal, so the donor kept most of them private. But this one…this one she shared so others could read it. I knew the moment I first saw it. I knew exactly what it was.”
Lee’s voice comes out ragged. “What is it?”
I pass the memento from the museum’s gift shop over, the scrawl on its surface slanted but neat. Letting out a breath, I say, “It’s a piece of your past.”
Chapter 35
Lee
My hand trembles as I take the letter from Caspian, his blue eyes almost sad. I have no idea what this is, but I start to read as Caspian’s hand settles on my ankle, a soft offer of support. The top of the letter is dated July 16, 1791.
To my J,
Do you ever think of the night you had to leave, my heart? I think of it often, even as I try not to. I remember your voice telling me to turn. The haunted look in your eyes. The sound of your footsteps walking away from me. And the words you last spoke.
I spent years wondering why Catherine would not tell me where you had gone. I thought, surely, she mustn’t know. For why else would she keep it from me? I understand now. You were so close. So close the entire time, and if I had known, I may not have been able to resist the urge to go to you. And then what of my mother?
You left to keep us safe. I know you did. Our love would not be accepted, no matter how right we knew it to be in our hearts.
You left to keep us alive. But I died a little more every day you were gone.
Nine years, my star.
My mother passed away in the wintertime. The ground was cold and hard when we laid her to rest. I remember looking up at the stars and wishing with everything I had that you were with me. I wondered if you still loved me so. I should not have doubted it, for I knew, if you were looking at the stars, you would be feeling the same.
