Ash and Ember - 18. Revelation

18 January 2019, Friday 4:54 p.m.

Grant had been sore in his life. Yoga pushed him to do things with his body most people couldn't. He had progressed far in his practice and could now perform asanas only a fraction of the population could. That meant pushing past his old limits which always meant soreness.

Yet, six near-solid hours of skiing did something entirely new to his body. Flinching as he flexed his foot, Grant stepped up into the van, snow dropping from his boots. This time, Brian joined him on the bench seat while Natalie and Aaron chatted in the back row.

Reaching down, Grant rubbed his shin. Brian looked over at him. "Ya all right?"

"Yeah. My shin is sore, for some reason." Grant continued to rub his leg. "Damn, yeah that's definitely sore. I wonder if I tweaked something."

"Nah. It's because you were doing this," Brian raised his hand and flexed it up and down, "all day with your feet, with the weight of the skis attached." He smiled knowingly. "I remember my first long ski day. I could barely walk when we finished. So you're doing pretty good."

Grant shook his head. "No, I can't be sore already. Tomorrow, maybe, but not right after we finished."

Brian held up a hand, one finger extended. Before Grant knew what was happening, he jabbed it, relatively gently, into Grant's ribs. A surprising pain shot across Grant's chest, causing him to suck in a breath of air. Brian chuckled as Grant rubbed his side. "You're already sore. It'll be worse tomorrow for all of us. None of us ski enough to avoid it."

Natalie leaned up to put her face between the guys' heads. "Yeah. Though since you're brand new to skiing you'll have it the worst, Grant." She laughed. "Maybe you can get Troy to give you a rub."

"I do owe him one." Troy pulled away from the skiing area and started on the drive to the restaurant they had chosen. "He has yet to collect on that particular Christmas gift."

"Well, I think I'll take you up on it." Grant grimaced as he shifted in his seat. His middle was startlingly tired and sore. "Wow. I'm surprised it affected me so much."

Aaron piped up from the back, "You did really well, Grant. I'm impressed you caught on so fast. Most people take quite a bit longer before they're on the intermediate slopes."

"He's got good body-awareness," Troy said over his shoulder. "You should see him do yoga."

"Sounds entertaining. Let's do that after we get some food." Georgette gnawed on a strip of beef jerky. They were all hungry since their lunch had been a bunch of snack food they had taken along with them to the ski area. Hours of skiing meant they were all ready for a real meal.

"Food sounds great." Grant lay back against the seat, hungry and exhausted. Though they had all had a great day. While he had been trying not to fall, Grant hadn't worried about the journal.

Even now, that stress took a bit of a back seat. Because at some point while he was out on the slopes with Troy, he had realized what he had to do. There was no longer a doubt; he knew he'd give it to Troy. He didn't quite know when, but he knew it was inevitable. Oddly, now that the decision was indeed made, he felt less stress over it.

That didn't mean entirely no stress. But for now, his hunger and the loud complaints from his body took center stage. "I feel like I could eat a cow." Grant rubbed his empty belly.

That elicited agreement and a few chuckles from the van of friends. The vehicle drove east. Ten minutes later, they parked in front of a place called American Flatbread. They had been tipped off by a few other patrons at the resort about the spot. Supposedly, they had fantastic pizza, and right now that sounded good to all of them.

It was the height of the ski season, and it was typically impossible to get a seat without a significant wait. Luckily, they had arrived shortly after the doors had opened. The group entered. Troy gave their party size to the attendant and, since they were early, they got seated immediately.

They all looked around at the room. Incandescent bulbs cast a warm, yellow glow over everything. There was wood everywhere - the tables, chairs, and the floor. They could see into the kitchen, where a sizeable woodfired clay oven squatted like a toad under a metal hood.

"They cook the pizza in there?" Georgette pointed and grinned. "That's awesome."

Their server appeared, and soon they had drinks in hand. Georgette wanted lemonade, Troy stuck to water, while the rest ordered beer and wine.

Grant smiled as his beer was put before him. Looking over at Troy, Grant picked up his beverage. "Tomorrow, someone else drives, Troy. So you can drink."

The lanky man shrugged. "I'm not worried about it."

Their server gave them a few minutes, then returned. More patrons were filtering in, and Grant was thankful they'd arrived just as the kitchen was getting fired up. They gave their orders - a couple of large pizzas to share - and the server went back to the kitchen to hand over their order to the fellow manning the oven. Then the suddenly busy server was out taking more requests in the crowd.

They chatted, drank, and Grant felt Troy's warm hand on his leg. If someone looked really carefully at them, they'd see it. Grant wasn't overly worried. He turned his head and smiled at Troy. The urge to kiss Troy sparked as his boyfriend grinned back at him. Grant squashed it, worried about causing a scene.

The struggle must have shown on his face. Troy smiled, a little sad, and turned forward to look down at his water.

"Hey." Troy looked over at Grant's voice. Grant leaned forward and gave him a swift kiss. Pulling back, Grant watched as Troy's eyes opened, an explosion of wildness and green. They expressed so much emotion in that quiet moment. I'd do anything for you, Grant thought, as Troy squeezed his knee under the table.

Grant blushed and looked down. Picking up his beer, he took a sip and couldn't help but notice their friends gazing across the table at them. All were smiling.

Brian cleared his throat and raised his dark beer. "To vacation. Let's do it more often."

Agreement came from the table, and they took a collective swig of their respective drinks. Grant sighed, deeply relaxed and happy. He smiled across the table, and then the expression faded as he looked at Brian and Aaron. Both men sat straight up, staring at something behind Grant and Troy.

"You got it?" Aaron mumbled under his breath and pushed back a little from the table.

Brian stood. "Yep. Excuse me." He walked around the table. Natalie, Aaron and Georgette watched him as he did. Grant turned to observe as Brian stopped at the table behind them. Leaning down, he loomed over a couple of young, twenty-something guys as he spoke quietly to them. His face was neutral, but by the reactions on the guys' pale faces, Grant could tell something was going on. The two men nodded hastily in some agreement, and Brian smiled, though the expression was grim.

Brian straightened and returned to his seat. He picked up his beer and resumed sipping his beverage.

"Uh, everything okay?" Grant asked, and he glanced over his shoulder at the table with the two men. They both stared down at their beers, jaws set, their faces flushed red.

"Yup. Everything's fine." Brian smiled, the expression only lifting one side of his lips. "Just handling something before it becomes an issue."

The light dawned in Grant's mind. "Did I cause a problem?"

Brian looked at Grant. "Nope. It's their problem, and we've come to an understanding about it." The big man's eyes went back to the men, and he continued to observe them.

Grant felt uncomfortable, and despite what Brian had said he also felt responsible for stirring up trouble. Troy put his arm around Grant's shoulders. "Relax. We're not doing anything wrong." He patted Grant's shoulder, and then he let his arm slip off of Grant. It was apparent that Grant was still nervous.

"Sorry," Grant whispered. "I didn't mean to make anybody upset, or draw attention to us."

"You're fine, Grant. Really." Troy smiled at him. "There's two-hundred and fifteen pounds of vigilance across the table, and a red-headed firecracker right beside him. Those guys aren't gonna do anything. Brian's right - it's their problem. Okay?"

Grant still felt his nerves jangle but tried to calm himself. "Okay." He took another drink of his dark, strong beer. The bitter flavor and the coldness helped to ground him, and he let go of some of his stress. They're right, you know. Grant let the thought sink in.

There was the sound of scraping chairs as the two men behind him got up. Brian watched as they threw money on the table and left the place. One of the guys shot a dark glance at their table, but that was it. The server looked confused but picked up the cash and cleaned the table. There was already a wait. Soon there would be others there instead.

As the door closed behind them, Brian visibly relaxed, as did Aaron. Grant knew they were ready to defend them if they needed to.

Aaron let out a breath. He looked over at Brian, and the men shared a small nod. Each resumed drinking. This time, it wasn't just a sip.

They were waiting. Staying sober until the threat had passed. Grant was both angry that the situation existed in the first place and thankful for this group of friends. He couldn't let it go without some sort of recognition. "Hey, guys." He looked back and forth between Brian and Aaron. "Thanks."

Natalie leaned against Brian, putting her arm around his back. Her pride in him was apparent. The big man focused on Grant. "You're one of us." It was a simple statement, one that was uncomplicated with subtlety or nuance. Simple though it may have been, it implied much.

Their food arrived, breaking the serious mood around the table. The friends were all ravenous and fell upon the pizza like a pack of barely restrained wild animals.

Grant took a slice from each. There was the pepperoni pepper pizza, and one made with local sausages. Both smelled of cheese, meat, freshly baked dough and tomato.

There were happy sounds as they dug in. Georgette in particular amused Grant by the savage little noises she made as she ate.

Aaron looked at her a little surprised and maybe a touch afraid. "Geez. Stop growling!"

Georgette only shot him a glare and continued to wolf down her food. She went from queasy and sometimes ill with morning sickness early in the day to starving during midday and at night.

"Leave the pregnant woman alone, Aaron!" Natalie pursed her lips and frowned at the redhead. Then she gave them both a little grin and tore into the slice of sausage pizza in her hand.

It was all in fun. The meal was a friendly time, something Grant welcomed after the earlier tension.

Soon they were full, with only a couple of lonely slices remaining. Aaron wisely asked to have them boxed up for his wife, who after just saying she was full declared they'd make good "road food" for the fifteen-minute trip back to their bed and breakfast.

They got back into the van. Sure enough, Georgette made short work of the last two slices on the way to their accommodations.

The vehicle was relatively quiet as they rode. Content bellies worked at digestion; paired with the efforts of the day, it meant the friends were both sleepy and tired. Arriving at the bed and breakfast, they piled out of the van.

"I think we're gonna go relax in our room for a while, guys." Natalie stretched and yawned. She chuckled a little when she looked at her phone and saw the time. It was only a little after 6:30 p.m. "I'm going to have to force myself to stay up though - at least another couple of hours!"

"Same here." Troy wearily leaned against his vehicle. Grant had to admit that he felt the same way. Skiing for hours at a time was a surefire way to ensure a body needed rest.

Troy and Grant went up to their room on the second floor of the place. Walking over to the bed, Troy flopped down with a groan.

"I could fall asleep. Right now." He closed his eyes and smiled. His arms were extended out to his sides, and he wriggled happily back and forth.

Grant looked down at him. With a gulp, he took a seat on the bed. Grant stared at the wall, his anxiety ramping up. It's time. No more dallying. He deserves to know. An idiotic terror blossomed in Grant's chest, and he felt like he wanted to throw up.

Troy must have been watching him because he sat up. "Hey." He threw his legs over the side of the bed to sit beside Grant. "What's wrong?" Troy slid an arm around Grant's shoulders. "Are you upset about what happened at the restaurant?"

Grant shook his head. His jaw worked, then he steeled himself. Turning to look at Troy, Grant saw his lanky man had a worried expression on his face.

Grant forced the next words out of his mouth. "Troy, I have to tell you something."

18 January 2019, Friday 6:47 p.m.

Troy knew something had been bothering Grant. He'd known for a while. Though Grant's discomfort had seemed to ramp up over the last few days.

"Okay. You can tell me anything." Troy rubbed Grant's back and tried to be as reassuring as possible. Fuck. Is he breaking up with me? Please, please no.

Grant blew out a nervous breath and smiled sadly. "Well, you might change your mind about that soon." He stood to pick up his shoulder bag. He put the bag in his lap and took another breath. Then he unclipped the bag.

Troy watched as he reached in and removed a burned leather book.

A journal.

A lightning bolt of realization slammed into Troy. "My journal." There was shock in his voice. Troy's mind whirled, and he reached over. His fingertips brushed the cover. "That's, that's my journal." He blinked and his eyes stung with tears. "How?" Troy's voice croaked with emotion.

Grant hung his head. "I found it. The day I moved in. I went to start a fire, and it was buried in the ash."

Troy felt a wild riot of emotion. His fingers shook as Grant handed it over to him.

"I, I'm sorry," Grant started. "I read some of it. It's how I found you." He took a steadying breath. "I felt so awful, Troy. I still do." He rubbed his face. "I shouldn't have used the journal the way that I did. And I'm sorry."

Troy heard the guilt and self-recrimination in Grant's voice, and he blinked. The first spark of something like anger lit in his chest, and his eyes narrowed. "So, you knew. You knew I was gay. You knew I lived in the house. You knew about John." He gritted his teeth, as he let the realization wash over him. "Why?" He looked at Grant. "Why give it to me?" His voice began to fill out with the bite of his ire, and he shook his head. "You could have just read, and then destroyed it. I would never have known." Troy's eyebrows went up in realization. "Oh, you felt guilty. That's why." He set his jaw. "So this is for you. It's to make you feel better?" Troy couldn't help but feel betrayed and manipulated. That Grant had been the one behind that stung all the more.

For his part, Grant sat in what appeared to be abject misery. Troy felt both glad and terrible that Grant would feel so bad. At that moment, he hated his love for Grant; he wanted to be purely angry. He wanted to be happy that Grant was miserable about what he had done. But he couldn't. A part of him wanted to comfort Grant, even though he was the reason for the situation in the first place.

"You're right." Grant nodded, raising a hand to wipe his tear-streaked face. He still looked down at the floor. "I was going to shred it."

"Why didn't you?" Though his voice still carried his anger, Troy was genuinely curious.

Grant gently took the journal from Troy and opened it to the back page. Troy's breath caught in his throat as he saw the writing. "Oh god."

Hey, baby.

It has been a couple of weeks now since we moved to Vermont. And you write in this thing almost every night. No, I didn't read any of it! So don't even get yourself riled up!

Anyway, I figure in a few years you'll stumble onto this little note. And I wanted to say a few things - things that will never change.

The first is that I love you. I love you so deep, and so much that it hurts. Sometimes when we're together, and you're holding me, I have to keep myself from crying. The emotion just wants out, you know?

Second, is that I'm so proud of you. I know your family and mine have both been pretty nasty to us. And I can't tell you how much I appreciate that you stuck with me, even through all of that drama they caused us. I guess I'm proud of both of us. That's it. I'm proud of us.

The last thing I want to tell you is that I'm never ever gonna leave you. I'm always going to be there for you. I'm gonna pick you up. I'll hold on tight. And I will be there through every dark moment you might have. I hope you don't have any of those, of course. But if you do, I'll help chase them away.

You're mine. And until the day comes that you don't need me anymore, I'll always be yours.

Forever in love, Your John

Troy streamed tears and clasped a hand over his mouth.

John's gentle voice came to him. He risked everything so you could see this, baby. He messed up, but he loves you. Just like I do.

Troy's eyes squeezed shut, and Grant's arm slid around his shoulders. "I couldn't destroy it," Grant said softly and leaned his head against Troy. "Not after I found this. I knew you must have never seen it. No matter what, I knew I had to give it to you."

Troy was overcome. He felt his anger evaporate, and in its place was the knowledge that he was loved. He had proof in his lap that Grant loved him more than he valued his own happiness. And that lingering doubt Troy'd had about Grant's moodiness and his quiet moments disappeared. Now he knew.

Troy slipped an arm around Grant's waist and rested his face against the side of his lover's neck. The two men sat that way for a time.

Finally, Troy straightened. Looking down at the page with John's writing, he ran his fingers over it. Troy was reverent, gentle, and had such a sincere appreciation for this gift he'd been given. A part of him tried to cling to his anger, but it was such a small slice of who he was. The thought that Grant had betrayed his trust was overridden by the apparent display of regard and love the man had for Troy.

"I'll never ever do anything like this again, Troy," Grant said it with such conviction. "I'll never trick or keep anything from you. Ever. I swear it."

Troy took a shaky breath. He wet his lips, and he nodded. "Okay." He closed the journal, and he smiled through his tears down at the book. "You know, many many times, I regretted burning it. Even without knowing about the note from John. I mean, it holds some of the best memories of my life. And when I lay in the van, struggling to sleep, I wished that I had it with me. So I could read about the better days."

Grant squeezed him. "Well, you've got it now. And I'm not trying to be disrespectful, but I wanted to let you know that I am so thankful that I got to know John a little - through your writing." Grant smiled. "He was a good man. And I'm so glad you guys got to be together."

Troy felt a surge of emotion. He didn't trust his voice, so he nodded. After a moment, he cleared his throat and chuckled. "You two are very different. But the way I feel for you is so similar." He looked down at his hands and the journal. "It's terrifying sometimes, you know? I started to notice that you were moody, and it scared the fuck out of me." Troy shook his head. "I thought, maybe, you'd decided that you didn't want to be together."

Grant seemed appalled. "Troy, no." He gently shook Troy with the arm that was over the tall man's shoulders. "No. I'm so sorry. I was just afraid I'd lose you when I finally worked up the balls to do this." Grant put his hand on the side of Troy's face and turned it, so Troy looked at him. "I feel more for you than I have ever felt for anybody, or for anything." Grant's face softened. "But, yeah. I know what you mean about it being terrifying." Grant bit his lip. "You've got my heart. And that's pretty scary."

Troy knew precisely what Grant meant. "Well, we've got to have a lot of trust in each other." He took a deep breath and straightened as a thought occurred to him. "Hey, did you tell anybody else about the journal?"

"No. Brian figured out I wasn't totally upfront with how I knew you lived in the house. But he doesn't know how."

Troy felt a little relief at that. "Okay. There's stuff in there about all of the friends, and I'd rather they not know my deepest thoughts about them." Troy smiled. "Nothing in there is bad. But, it's all unfiltered."

Grant nodded. "I get it." The dark-haired man looked at Troy and smiled. "I'm glad this is done." He looked relieved. "I don't know how much longer I could have carried this around with me."

"I'm glad too." Troy leaned over and kissed Grant. They stayed with their heads together. Each breathed quietly and relaxed into the other.

Troy felt emotionally and physically drained. He almost dropped to sleep as he sat there and started fully awake. Both he and Grant laughed.

"I think maybe I need a nap." Troy grinned.

"That sounds nice. Can I keep you company?" Grant's eyes moved over Troy's face. In them, Troy saw a sincere and profound need for connection with him. And that made him happy in a way nothing else could.

"Yes. Absolutely."

The men undressed. It was unspoken, but Grant seemed to know that Troy wanted to be held. After Troy put the journal on the nightstand by the bed, he lay down, and Grant scooted up against Troy's back.

"Should we set the alarm?" Grant nuzzled Troy's neck and the slim carpenter felt Grant's warm lips on the skin there.

"No. Let's just sleep, and wake up when our bodies want us to." Troy pushed back until he was flush against Grant - as much of him as possible was pressed against his boyfriend's front.

"Okay." Grant lay tiny, gentle kisses on his shoulders and his neck. "Go to sleep. I've got you. As long as you want me, I've got you."

Troy's eyes slid closed, and his body slowly relaxed. He was safe, protected, and cared for. As sleep claimed him, he felt the love of not just one man - but two.