“Shit, I’m sorry.” His voice cracked, raw with remorse. “I wasn’t trying to make it sound like I didn’t care. Those nights meant more to me than I ever said. It was just… different for me back then. You were already falling, and I was still figuring myself out—my sexuality, who I was after everything that had happened. You know I did stuff with men before you, but it was always for payment. I don’t think I fully accepted that I was bi until you. You came into my life, and I was attracted to you more than I’ve ever been attracted to anyone in my life, and I couldn’t ignore it anymore. Those Fridays we slipped away?” His eyes softened, almost breaking. “They were the only thing that got me through the week. The only time I let myself breathe and not stress about the past and paying off my debts.”
I forced a smile, though my throat was still thick. Logically, I knew two people didn’t have to fall in love at the same time, but my heart still felt a little sad.
“It’s okay. I fell first, Hud, and that’s all right. That’s our story. Messy, complicated, but ours.”
I reached for the door handle, ready to slip out before the ache got worse, but his hand tightened on mine.
“Matt, wait.” His voice was low, urgent. I looked back at him. His eyes searched mine, dark and steady in the neon glow. “I love you.” He said it quietly, with conviction. “I might not have loved you right away back then, but I love you now. With everything I’ve got. I love you. Please don’t hurt because I was too stupid to see immediately what you meant to me.”
The raw honesty in his voice broke something open in me. The hurt softened, soothed. I exhaled slowly, a little steadier now, and nodded. “That’s all that matters. How do you feel now?”
“Good. Let’s do this, then.”
We got out of the truck, and Hudson sidled up to me, taking my hand. I squeezed his and intertwined our fingers.
“I love you, Matthias Magnuson,” he whispered.
I chuckled. “I know.”
“You’re not mad at me anymore?”
“I am not. Promise.”
The motel lobby hadn’t changed one damn bit. Same stale coffee smell, same buzzing fluorescent light over the desk, same tired fern in the corner that looked like it hadsurvived an apocalypse. The only thing that had changed was us.
Hudson leaned against the counter, lazy grin on his face, while I slid the card across to the woman behind the desk. She looked up, squinted at us, then groaned loud enough to echo.
“Oh, you two again.” She slapped the counter with her palm like she was already exhausted. “For God’s sake, please don’t give me another round of neighbor complaints. I do not need to spend my night hearing about how loud you two get.”
I grinned, winking at Hudson. “Don’t worry. We’re adults now. Fathers even. We know how to keep quiet now.”
“With any luck, a gag isn’t involved.” She shoved the keycards across with a sigh. “On a different note, it’s good to see you two still together. This is not the kind of place where you usually see the same partners showing up together.”
“It’s just me and this guy.” Hudson tipped my chin and kissed me. “Forever.”
“All right, then, no need to give the show away for free. Off with you.”
Laughing, we walked briskly arm in arm to our room. By the time we arrived at the door, number thirty-six, my chest was tight, heartbeat thumping against my ribs. I’d been so sure about all this when I planned it. Every little detail, every snack, every drink, the VHS tape I’d tracked down online like it was a rare collector’s item. But now, standing outside the door, I froze. Doubt clawed up my throat. What if I’d gone too far? What if none of it meant as much to him as it had to me?
That would hurt more than anything else.
Hudson slipped the keycard in and shouldered the door open. He stepped inside ahead of me, quiet. Too quiet. Hedidn’t say a word as he moved around the room, and each second of silence ratcheted my nerves tighter.
He stopped at the bed, picked up the videotape, brushed his thumb over the sleeve like he couldn’t believe it was real. Then he glanced at the two glass bottles of pop on the nightstand, the bottles of water, bags of chips and cans of Pringles—lined up neatly in a row—the cheddar and sour cream flavor he liked that we used to buy four years ago from the gas station down the road. There was even a cigarette. We didn’t smoke anymore, but maybe we would tonight. For nostalgic reasons.
When he finally turned to me, his eyes were shiny, wet. A tear slid down his cheek. He laughed, choked. “You… you remembered everything. Every little detail of our nights together. It’s the same room.”
Relief crashed over me so hard my knees almost buckled. If he remembered those things, then he’d cared. He really did.
The ache I’d been carrying since the parking lot—the hurt that maybe I’d cared more than he had—melted out of me in one sharp breath.
I crossed the space in two steps, cupped his jaw, and kissed him. Hard. Again and again until he was breathing with me, until the taste of him chased everything else out of my chest.
When he finally pulled back, his lips were damp. He pressed his forehead to mine. His laugh came broken. “You remember everything. God, Matt…” His breath shuddered. Then that wicked grin slipped back, softer this time. “You know, this is the part where we used to fuck as soon as we walked through the door. Remember? You couldn’t keep your hands off me.”
“Still can’t.”
I grabbed him by the back of his thighs and lifted him. Hudson wrapped his legs around my waist and his arms around my shoulder. I walked him over to the bed and lowered him, my body following his, so I was on top of him. I brushed a lock of hair out of his eyes.
