Holiday Cheer from Andrew Grey and Amy Lane

Natural Habitat

Natural Habitat

MARK’S MOTHER had traded in her minivan from his youth for the SUV of her middle age, which was fine because it still held the wheelchair perfectly, and the four doors made sitting Cassidy in the back with his awkward cast set at a slight angle but still extending from the hip just a little easier.

Still, Cassidy was obviously in pain and so very glad to be wheeled into his own home. He looked around appreciatively and made happy noises when he saw the modifications Yvonne had made.

Yvonne and Mark had rented a table that could hold the coffee maker, a couple of plates, bowls, and glasses, and even some basic supplies like granola bars, coffee, and creamer at Cassidy’s height. It also held a microwave.

The shower seat was set up with the same idea, with a net bag that held shampoo, bodywash, and a body sponge. The long plastic sleeves to keep his cast dry were in the cupboard under the sink. They’d moved his basic toiletries into the larger bathroom and made sure the bathroom rug was tightly velcroed to the floor.

“The Velcro is there with an adhesive,” Yvonne confided. “We did little test spots to make sure the adhesive remover won’t stain the tile.”

“Wow,” Cassidy said, awed. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“Bathrooms are tough,” Yvonne told him. “We need you not to slip, and your tile gets a little dicey when it’s wet, so we can’t take away the rug. But rugs bunch and slip too, so we put that tight Velcro to all the edges. If you like it, you can leave it.” She gave a rather wicked little giggle. “I’ll be honest, I’ve got it on my bathroom rugs because they make me crazy!”

Cassidy gave a little head bob. “I never would have thought of it.” He sounded sincere, but Mark was standing behind him after having wheeled him down the hall, so he couldn’t see his expression. They’d removed the hall runner from the hardwood floor to make the wheelchair go easier. “Is there anything I should know about my bedroom?”

“Pillows,” Mark said. “Or props. There’s a whole… thing she’ll probably have you go through when you’re ready to nap.” He had, in fact, been impressed by all the small pieces that his mother could bring to the situation to make Cassidy comfortable.

“I have to nap?” Cassidy said peevishly, and then immediately yawned. “I have to nap ,” he acknowledged in wonder. “Why do I have to nap?”

Mark couldn’t help his laughter. Cassidy reminded him of Gus-Gus sometimes, particularly when the dog acknowledged he was too short to get somewhere he really wanted to be—like the counter, to sneak food. “Because a) you’re still on pain meds, and they do that, and b) you just had surgery and it knocks you out, and c) you’re still in a little bit of pain. Have I covered everything?”

Cassidy yawned again. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. I was yawning.” He followed it up with a sly look to see if the joke landed, and Mark rewarded him with a snort.

“Nice,” he said approvingly. “But I guess you’re ready for that nap now.”

Cassidy surprised him, shaking his head. “I, uh, thought maybe we could have some lunch,” he said, all in a rush like he was trying to get it out.

“Yeah?” Mark couldn’t help it. His heart was doing a tiny fluttery happy dance, because this was the first time he could remember that the man in the wheelchair hadn’t said, Oh no, you can’t, I don’t mean to be a bother , or something along those lines.

“I, uh, well, sandwiches are gonna be awkward,” Cassidy said, “but, uhm, takeout or—”

“I’ve got Thai food on speed dial,” Mark said happily. “Do you have something you like?”

“Never had it—”

“Green curry,” Mark decided for him. “You’ll love it. Green curry with chicken. It’ll be great. And dumplings. Everyone likes dumplings. And chicken satay—I’ll go ask Mom.”

He was so excited he almost shoved Cassidy’s wheelchair into the wall.

“Wait, hold on.” He straightened the chair and called out, “Mom! Do you want Thai food?”

“I’ve got to go to work, honey,” his mother said, coming out of the bedroom. “But you go ahead and order some for me and I’ll come over and have it for dinner.”

“Oooh, good idea,” Mark said, pulling out his phone. His mother was staring at him. “What?”

“Maybe get poor Cassidy out of the hallway first?” she said delicately.

And Mark felt stupid. He was a doctor —was it too much to ask that he lost some dorkiness?

“Uhm, forward or backward?” he inquired.

“Well, if you push him into the bedroom, I can show you how to prop his leg,” she said. “In fact, Cassidy, one of our little rentals in here is one of those trays on wheels like they have at the hospital, so we can get you situated and feed you. You’ve got your TV wall-mounted across from the bed, so that’ll make your life easier in the next month. Come see.”

Mark heard Cassidy sigh.

“What?” he asked, wondering if he had railroaded over the poor man for the final time.

“I was looking forward to eating at the table with you,” he admitted. “But your mom’s right. I might make it to when the food’s delivered. I’m sor—”

“No.” Mark couldn’t help it. “No sorry . No bother . Mom’s taking off, and you and me will wait for takeout and watch TV or play cards or Parcheesi or Monopoly or Trivial Pursuit. No sorry. It’s fine.”

And then he heard the most blessed of sounds. A choke/snort—a snort of laughter that Cassidy Hancock had by no means, by no measure whatsoever, wanted to slip through.

“What?” he asked.

“You… you just sound so excited to watch me sleep!”

Yvonne chuckled. “And that’s not creepy at all! Now c’mon, we’ll get you situated and then—”

And then Cassidy blew Mark’s mind—and, he was pretty sure, his mother’s as well.

“And you can bring over the dog?” he asked.

“The dog?” Mark repeated, not sure he’d heard right.

“Yeah. The, uhm, dog. Gus-Gus. I… I mean, I can’t be late for anything today, right?”

Mark and his mother exchanged glances.

“Nope,” Mark replied. “Nothing to do but get in bed and eat Thai food. And maybe wrestle you into the bathroom together, which will be embarrassing for both of us, but I for one vow to forget it.”

Cassidy made that snort sound again and then got hold of himself. Mark could hear that noise all day. “Well, I’ll pretend I can forget it too,” he said weakly. “But if I don’t have anywhere to be, I’d… I mean, if you think he’ll be okay, I’d really love to pet the dog.”

Mark and Yvonne met eyes again, because the wistfully voiced hope was so damned modest. “‘Course,” Mark said, keeping his voice casual. “Let’s get you situated first.”

TWENTY MINUTES later, Cassidy was set up on the bed, Mark had ordered, his mother had left after kissing Cassidy on the cheek the same as she did for Mark, and Mark had run next door to get Gus-Gus from his cozy doghouse in the backyard. The day was bright and only a little chilly, and Gus-Gus had a lot of energy, so they let him run around their backyard. Yes, he barked at the occasional bird, or cat, or a child playing in the yard behind them, or the mailman, but the vet called these activities “hobbies” and said all animals had them. Gus-Gus, she said, was a very active dog, because he had a lot of hobbies.

Running back and forth along the fence line, shouting curses and threats to the nine-hundred-pound gorilla he suspected might be delivering the mail, calling out cats for being assholes—these were all highly entertaining for Mark’s weird-looking dog. Since the pit-wiener (as Mark’s ex-boyfriend had called him, completely leaving out the corgi part of his lineage!) was also loyal and affectionate and adorable and only drooled a little, Mark figured that as long as his mother’s HOA didn’t object to Gus-Gus having hobbies, he would have nothing against them either.

And letting him run the fence line on those stubby little legs eventually tired him out so he wouldn’t make an ass of himself inside.

Mark wanted the big goober to be civil and well-behaved, since his presence had been so specifically requested.

“You are not to jump up and lick his face,” Mark admonished as he wiped him down, clearing some of the mud off his paws and the dew off his tummy. “There is to be no eating of his food and no leaping on his bed. This man is an entirely different fish than you’re used to. You thought Brad was uptight? Well, he was—and he was a prick. This guy isn’t a prick, but he’s not used to dogs. I mean, he seems to think you’re okay, but you furry people come with mud and slobber and fur and… all this!”

Gus-Gus wriggled in his arms in a half circle to lick Mark’s face.

“Yes, that,” Mark confirmed. “I’m just saying, you’re a little much, Gus. Maybe tone it down.”

Gus-Gus licked faster, and Mark tried not to think this entire enterprise was doomed.

He got back in time to watch his mother leave, bending to pat Gus-Gus on his smiling broad head before disappearing down the hallway and letting herself out.

Cassidy only had eyes for the dog.

“Gus-Gus?” he said, and his face was a sunrise of excitement. For his part, Gus-Gus wiggled and tried to jump up on the high queen-sized bed, but he was too damned short. Mark thought in a panic that even if he did make it up, he’d probably land right on Cassidy’s leg, and that would be bad, but Cassidy turned to the empty side of the bed and patted it. “Gus-Gus!” he called. “C’mon, baby. There’s a stool on that side—you can make it!”

And the dog got it. Before Mark could protest, the dog had run around to the other side, and in a moment he’d bounded up onto the bare space on the side of the bed and right into Cassidy’s arms.

“Oh, who’s a good boy? You are! What a good boy! You’re so smart! Yes you are!”

The dog licked his face in an ecstasy of enthusiasm, and Cassidy, hair falling forward on his brow, hazel eyes wide and lit with joy, hugged Mark’s dog like he had a kennel of his own.

God, he was beautiful.

The thought hit Mark not quite out of the blue—Mark had already known he was surprisingly handsome, especially when his expression was open and pleased—but right now, as he lavished what looked to be a lifetime of hoarded love on Mark’s wriggling pit-wiener who was actually a corgi, he was just luminous. Stunning.

And then he looked at Mark shyly from under his lashes, and Mark’s chest and groin gave an in-tandem throb.

And given the picture on the mantelpiece, he played for Mark’s team—or would consider an at-bat, at the very least.

Gus-Gus, for his part, had settled down and was resting with his head on Cassidy’s lap, gazing at him adoringly while Cassidy fondled his ears.

It was then that Mark realized he was in real peril of losing his dog. But then, if he could get Cassidy to unleash that torrent of affection on Mark like he’d unleashed it on Gus-Gus, well, the trade-off might be worth it!

“Wow. You like dogs?”

Cassidy nodded enthusiastically, but his gentle ear rub stayed the same. “I’ve always wanted one,” he said softly. “Since I was a little kid. I’ve looked up care and breeds and training, and I pet the ones who let me.”

“You couldn’t get one as a kid?” Mark asked carefully. He and his mother had already guessed, but he wanted Cassidy to confirm it so it wasn’t a subject they danced around.

“Foster homes,” Cassidy said, his face pinking up. “I… I was left at a fire station when I was just born.”

Mark stared. “Seriously?”

“Yeah.” Cassidy sighed and lifted a shoulder. “Those are the babies that usually get thousands of offers, but I was sick. I had a strep infection for months. By the time they knew I was going to live, everybody had forgotten about the baby in the firehouse, and nobody wanted to adopt a sick toddler.”

Mark’s throat was suddenly sore and tight. “So, uhm, foster homes?”

Cassidy nodded. “Yeah. My first foster placement was nice, or so I’m told. But the foster parents were older, and they didn’t have the energy for little kids anymore. I guess they thought someone would adopt me sometime.” He spoke the words mostly to the dog, but Mark could hear the parts he wasn’t saying.

Nobody wanted me. Nobody.

“It didn’t happen,” Mark said gruffly.

“It almost happened.” Cassidy gave a slight smile. “There was an event with foster families. They brought kids to the park, and adoptive parents came and hosted games and played with the children and interacted. It was a chance for us to fall in love with each other, I guess.”

“Did you fall in love?” Mark asked, but either way Cassidy answered, he knew this story didn’t have a happy ending.

“Didn’t get a chance.” Cassidy let out a laugh that was probably supposed to show he was grown now and had gotten over it. “The, uh, foster family van broke down on the way. We never got a chance to see. And after that there was another family. And they were all pleasant, I guess. They all tried to be kind. They just never really… wanted me. There was a lot of ‘Be neat! Be clean! Be on time! Get along!’ but no….”

“No ‘you will be part of our hearts forever,’” Mark whispered.

“I guess it doesn’t really happen with boys like me,” Cassidy said, trying to shrug it off.

For a moment Mark couldn’t breathe. Boys.

“Well, you seem to have grown into a good man,” Mark told him.

Cassidy smiled faintly. “I’m always on time,” he said. Then he looked down at Gus-Gus. “That’s why I can’t get a dog,” he said in apology. “You might make me late. You can miss a lot when you’re late.”

“You can miss a lot of life worrying about being late,” Mark said, the epiphany so bright it hurt to look at.

Cassidy nodded and stared adoringly at Gus-Gus some more. “I can’t seem to make myself find out.”

He was quiet then, sinking into the pillows and the stillness of the house, and Mark searched for something to say.

It wasn’t until Cassidy’s breathing evened out that Mark realized he hadn’t waited for Thai food after all and had fallen gently asleep. With a sigh, Mark covered him with a throw from the bottom of the bed and, after cautioning Gus-Gus to stay, ran over to his room above the garage for his tablet and some of the paperwork he’d brought home from the hospital.

The chair by the bed was really very comfy, he thought as he settled into his routine. This wasn’t a bad way to spend an afternoon.

But every now and then as he worked, he would look up at Cassidy’s sleeping face and wonder what it would be like to see him unleash the same unbridled affection on a person that he’d unleashed upon Gus-Gus. What would it be like to see him get so engaged and passionate over something that he allowed himself to be late for something, anything at all? What would it be like to watch him drop his guard and just be in the moment with Mark or his mother, or anyone in the family?

He’d tried. Mark could tell that the invitation for Thai food had been an attempt to do just that. Talking about his childhood had been rusty and unusual for him—Mark could hear it in his voice. He’d been reaching out, trusting Mark, a veritable stranger, with the most tender and painful parts of his life.

Mark just hoped he was worthy.

And a little part of him wanted Cassidy to love him as unconditionally as he’d loved Gus-Gus the super-weird dog.

Thai food got there about forty-five minutes later, giving Mark a chance to yawn and stretch before he ran to pay. He set it on the counter, used the bathroom, and went back into the bedroom to find Cassidy, eyes open, smiling widely at Gus-Gus like they were in the middle of a scintillating conversation.

“Food?” Mark asked, his voice cracking. Oh, this was too much—he had to get over being jealous of the damned dog.

“Starving,” Cassidy admitted. He looked at the solid mass of fiberglass extending out from his hip and sighed. “How long again?”

“Eight weeks,” Mark said in commiseration. “But in the meantime, you’ve got me to go fetch food.”

He used Cassidy’s plates to serve lunch, impressed by the heavy stoneware, even if there was only a service for four.

“These are nice,” Mark said. “My God, you’ve got amazing taste.”

Cassidy set the plate down on the serving tray and smiled in appreciation. “I’ve been working for Rose for five years now. You learn things about taste when you’re working for a magazine about, you know—taste.”

Mark chuckled and took a bite, closing his eyes to appreciate before continuing. “Well, my mom probably wishes I could take lessons from you. I went to college, moved in with my boyfriend, got my residency and moved home, and still had the same crap I’d had when I left home. She was like, ‘You didn’t even have dishes?’”

“You didn’t even have dishes?” Cassidy prodded.

Mark nodded, impressed by the spar. “Well, don’t tell her , but I did. I even picked out a new comforter and, holy crap, furniture, but I left all the new shit with the old boyfriend when I moved home.”

Cassidy cocked his head. “Why’d you do that?”

Mark made a sound of frustration, because this still pissed him off. “Well, Brad was sort of an ass,” he said frankly. “I mean, I thought he was awesome at first, but God, he was a prick.”

“What made him a prick?” Cassidy asked curiously.

“Oh no, you got me started,” Mark said. “So, like, we used to have to estimate how much time we each spent using lamps so we knew who had to buy the lightbulbs— that made him a prick. And worse than that. He was a doctor too, and while I was a resident in the same hospital but a different department, he was chief of surgery in pediatrics. You’re like, ‘Oh my God! What a saint!’ because someone doing something that important should be a saint, and don’t get me wrong, if I had a kid who was sick, I’d want Brad, hands down, to operate on them. But if I was called in to work an extra shift and God forbid Brad had made plans for us, I had to hear about how I should just pretend to be sick because it’s not like I was saving a child’s life or anything. I just set bones, right?”

“Wait, there’s elitism between doctors?” Cassidy asked, sounding dumbfounded.

“Well, there shouldn’t be!” Mark exploded. “But it was even more than that. I found Gus-Gus wandering in the park on a run and brought him home—he was just a puppy, and oh my God, did he look weird . I mean, the proportions were all wrong. I wasn’t even sure he was a dog!”

Cassidy laughed like he should have, but he also fondled Gus-Gus’s ears. “He’s kidding,” Cassidy said to Gus-Gus. “Your dogness is written all over you.”

Gus’s tail thumped on the coverlet, and he continued to gaze at Cassidy with a reverence he’d previously reserved for steak.

“Well, yes—and it was written all over our apartment too,” Mark said ruefully.

Cassidy grimaced. “Gus-Gus! How rude!”

Gus’s adoration didn’t let up one bit, and Cassidy sent Mark a bit of a cheeky grin. “I don’t see the problem,” he said.

Mark chuckled—oh, he was delightful. “I didn’t either,” he said frankly. “But Brad did. I did my best. I took all the responsibilities—walked him, fed him, got him defleaed, and paid for his vet checkups—and the whole time I was getting an earful about how irresponsible I was to own a dog and why would I want to put my energy into an animal that confused food and grooming with love and how I’d better not let him sleep on Brad’s side of the bed.”

Cassidy made a wounded sound and put his hand protectively on Gus-Gus’s head.

“And I get it. I was inconsiderate bringing the dog home without asking. But I was, at the time, looking for someone to take the little goober, and Brad kept telling me to take the dog to a shelter instead. Now I wanted him—my God, I wanted him—but I’d saddled Brad with him too, and even if he wasn’t my boyfriend, he was my roommate , and I get that it wasn’t cool. But when the only shelters that would take him were kill shelters that would give him a week before he was euthanized and Brad still wouldn’t give me time to place him, I started to think the whole thing was a bad idea.”

“What did you do?” Cassidy asked, looking enthralled.

Mark felt himself deflate. “Well, we were having rip-roaring fight after rip-roaring fight when my dad passed away. When I decided to take the second-year resident’s position up here, Brad shook my hand and said it was probably for the best.”

Cassidy winced. “That’s… awful.”

Mark sighed and set down his half-eaten plate of pad thai. “Yeah. It didn’t really reflect well on either of us, you know? He thought I was reckless and irresponsible, and I thought he was inflexible and stone-fucking-cold. And he probably would have forgiven me for being irresponsible if I could have given him a break for needing to dot every i and cross every t .”

“Mm.” Cassidy took another bite of his food, and Mark smiled secretly to himself. He apparently liked green curry very much.

“Mm what?” Mark hadn’t told his mother much about why the relationship ended. He had just said that things had started to cool before Mark decided to move in over the garage. Cassidy was, in fact, the first person he’d confessed the gory details to, and the move felt oddly freeing.

“I think he tried to get you to kill the dog,” Cassidy said simply. “I mean, I know you’re trying to be responsible and talk like someone who is trying to learn and grow from a situation, but the fact is, the dog was important to you. If he’d really cared about you, he would have understood that. A dog is a big responsibility. I mean, that’s why I’ve been afraid to get one. But it’s not like you didn’t make it through med school.” He smiled a little and looked Mark in the eyes, his stunning features thrown into relief by the late-afternoon shadows coming in through the window. “I see you walking the dog every day—or, well, sometimes he walks you. And look at him. He’s so affectionate—so open. He trusts you’ll take care of him.”

“Or he wants one of your dumplings,” Mark said dryly, recognizing that look in Gus-Gus’s eyes.

“Chicken is probably better,” Cassidy said, slipping Gus-Gus a tiny piece of chicken satay. Gus-Gus took it delicately, with the manners of a ma?tre d’.

“Wow,” Mark laughed. “You guys are a match made in heaven.”

“I’d love it if that were so.” Cassidy gave him a sweet smile and then took his own bite of chicken satay. “I’m just saying that just because you sort of, I don’t know, fly by the seat of your pants, that doesn’t mean you’re ‘reckless and irresponsible.’” He sighed, the melancholy so palpable it almost blocked the sun. “It just means you’re… confident, I guess.”

“Confident?” Mark had never thought of his propensity for rash decisions as confident.

“You have faith that you can handle the repercussions of your actions,” Cassidy rephrased, and Mark smiled, impressed.

“Well done,” he said. “You managed to make my worst quality sound almost bearable! Now do you!”

Cassidy shook his head with such heartrending seriousness that Mark almost ran, right then. So much quietly subsumed ache in that one gesture. Mark wasn’t sure he could have fixed it if it had been a broken bone—he was definitely unsure about a broken human.

But he’d seen such promise in this day. Cassidy had tried, more than once, to show he liked Mark’s company, to be present in getting to know each other. Mark felt like he had to try to draw him out.

“C’mon,” Mark urged. “I know you don’t have any bodies in the garage—we checked to see what your Christmas decorations looked like in case Mom had more in her garage. By the way, you’ve got a lot of woodworking tools in there. What do you use them for? I mean, besides the bookcases.”

“You liked the bookcases?” Cassidy asked, his cheeks growing pink.

“They’re gorgeous. But there was more stuff in there—really fine small tools, and an entire bench dedicated to using them. What do you use that for?” Mark and his mother had been fascinated. Keith liked to do woodwork—he made toys for his kids that Mark secretly coveted. They’d gone into the garage looking for decorations and the washer/drier and had found, instead, Santa’s workshop.

And now Cassidy’s eyes went unconsciously to the lithograph on the wall, and Mark felt like he was missing some of the wonders of the chief elf. “It’s beautiful—did…?” His eyes popped open wide as he made the connection. “Did you make the original ?” he asked, stunned.

Cassidy nodded, obviously pleased. “Some of my furniture was made custom, but I’d taken shop classes in high school. I wanted to do some of it myself, and the bookshelves seemed like the place to start. The shelves turned out so well, I asked for their chips and cast-offs because I thought it would be sort of cool to make a picture with all of the scraps from the house. The furniture place wanted to see what I was doing, and they were so impressed they bought the original from me and made lithographs. I get a commission from the sales—and all the scraps they can give me.”

“Wow,” Mark said, his heart stammering in his chest. “That’s… that’s gorgeous . Have you done any other pieces?”

A casual shrug. “A couple, for people I work with. I… uhm, was working on one to finish, to sell before Christmas.”

“That’s amazing, Cassidy! How… how do you have this hidden talent and you don’t even brag!”

Cassidy concentrated on his food for a moment, and Mark watched as his ears turned red. “It’s just pictures,” he mumbled.

“It’s art !” Mark countered, genuinely surprised. “Do you have any idea what my mother would have given to give birth to a child who had even a little artistic ability? It’s like your house—it’s a showcase! The world should see it.”

“I don’t know anybody to invite,” Cassidy said, still concentrating on his curry.

“My family,” Mark said, and then he let out a self-deprecating snort. “Even though we’ve already invited ourselves.”

“They’re welcome,” Cassidy mumbled. “I’d love to have your mother here baking cookies and your brother’s kids here too.”

“We’ll try to keep them from wrecking the joint,” Mark said, mostly kidding. At Cassidy’s horrified look, he tried to explain. “They don’t destroy property,” he said, hoping it was true. “They’re just… Tanya’s kids. If they get bored, they get into mischief so they can get people’s attention.”

“We should lock the garage,” Cassidy said, completely sober. “I wouldn’t want them to get hurt.”

Mark cocked his head.

“What?” Cassidy went studiously back to his curry.

“I thought you’d be worried about the house, but you’re not. You’re worried about the kids. How awesome is that?”

Cassidy’s expression was genuinely puzzled. “Furniture can be repaired,” he said. “Upholstery cleans. Kids are… kids. They’re important. They need to know they’re more important than the furniture.”

His intensity would have been unnerving if Mark hadn’t had some idea where it came from. “You’re right,” he said softly. “That’s something Brad never got, by the way. He refused to let Keith’s kids visit, and it hurt.”

“That’s too bad,” Cassidy said. “I mean, I can’t promise I won’t need to take a moment—I, uhm, you know, don’t put a lot of wear on the place myself. But at least in theory I think the kids are more important.”

Mark chuckled. “Well, I like your theory,” he said. Then, sensing an opening, “But I still don’t know what your worst flaw is.”

Cassidy looked away. “It’s dumb. It’s obvious. It’s stupid and I… I can’t get past it. I almost had a boyfriend once, and we were supposed to go out on a date. I had my whole day mapped out—when I would get home, when I would get ready, when he would get there, when we would leave. He was late. And by the time he got here, about half an hour after he was supposed to, I was a wreck. I was almost in tears. I can’t be late. If I know I have a meeting online, I need to be home an hour before it starts. Two if I can make it happen. I panic if I’m running so much as two minutes past when I usually run. I practically have an anxiety attack if I’m held up in traffic. I get to work half an hour early, and Rose doesn’t open the office until nine on the dot. I’ve wasted hours of my life parked outside, drinking my coffee, because I can’t… I can’t be late.”

His voice had risen as he’d spoken, his breathing growing harsher and more uneven, until Gus-Gus was searching his face worriedly from his perch on Cassidy’s lap. In an effort to calm him down, Mark reached out and covered the hand resting on his tray with his own, breathing evenly, until Cassidy matched him breath for breath and met his eyes.

“That’s not stupid,” Mark murmured. “And it’s not a flaw.”

“It’s a psychosis,” Cassidy said savagely, his voice breaking.

“No,” Mark murmured. “It’s… it’s a reaction, is what it is.”

“To what?” But Cassidy couldn’t meet his eyes. He knew. Mark knew.

“To things that happened a long time ago but feel like they were yesterday. To when a little boy really, really hoped for parents who would love him absolutely unconditionally. He hoped so hard, he pinned all his dreams on an event at a park, and his transportation broke down and he was late, and what should have been one of a million chances passed him by. And the only thing he could think of to control about his life was being on time.”

Cassidy’s next breath came harsh and shuddering, and Mark squeezed the hand under his. Cassidy was staring out the window behind him like he was wishing he was anywhere but there.

Mark was fiercely glad he was there, safe, in his own home with Mark by his side.

“That’s stupid,” Cassidy muttered, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

“It’s human,” Mark said, squeezing his other hand again. “You were a kid, and you were probably told to be clean and neat and on time, and you told yourself that’s how you’d be loved. If you were the cleanest, neatest, most on-time boy in the world, somebody would love you. Am I right?”

He heard Cassidy swallow—he didn’t even need to see his head bob.

“It’s not the only reason you’d be really easy to love,” Mark whispered. “But you wouldn’t know that yet. Because nobody told you that when you were a kid.”

Cassidy nodded reluctantly—probably as much to get Mark to stop probing so deeply, where all the wounds were, as to agree.

“They should have,” Mark said. “You’ve got more to offer the world than being on time.”

Cassidy didn’t say anything, and he kept his face turned away. Mark moved his hand and began eating to give him a chance to compose himself.

They both pretended they didn’t see it when Cassidy removed his glasses to wipe his eyes on his shoulder.

Mark spoke into the silence. “Hey, I bet I could find something fun to watch. Christmas movies abound right now. Wanna look?”

“Yeah,” Cassidy croaked. “Sounds great. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Mark murmured. He picked up the remote and started channel surfing, but inside he was wondering what it would be like to climb into bed on the side Gus-Gus was sprawled out on. He would take Cassidy Hancock into his arms and hold him, hard and unapologetically, while the man purged himself of the last of his demons.

And then Mark would kiss him, sweeping all the bad memories away and building good ones, memories that had nothing to do with being on time and everything to do with taking their time, memories that proved to Cassidy once and for all that he had more to offer the world than being clean and neat and punctual, and that his goodness had nothing to do with punching a clock.