Better Friends and Lovers

Chapter 8

(Setting: The Loft; Sunday Night of Daphne's Birthday Weekend; POV/Brian)

I poured myself another shot of Jim Beam and leaned back against the sofa cushions. It had been a hell of a day and night. The call from Justin should not have pissed me off so much but I had not been ready to talk to him yet. I knew I should just ask him about Edward Simon rather than let the jealousy fester inside me, but I couldn't. The Brian who masterminded the infamous "Ian" confrontation at the Diner no longer existed. I just didn't want to play those games anymore, nor did I want to hear any explanations about Edward, I realized. I've been around long enough to know what the situation is with Edward and Justin. They're fucking. No doubt Justin would say he doesn't love him. The days when Justin had to believe himself in love to sleep with someone, or even to cheat on me with someone are long gone. That guy is there and I'm not. He probably isn't even the only one Justin's fucking. Although Justin isn't the type to have one-night stands; he is a serious serial monogamist.

The problem is, I'm past the one-night stand stage of my life, whether anyone in my world wants to believe it or not. So I'm in the unenviable place of loving someone twelve years younger than me to whom, unless I'm the most selfish prick in the world, I owe it to allow to experience all the pleasures and joys, and yes, even the pain and disappointments, of life in the big city, establishing a fabulous career. Fuck.

But what about me? Do I have to sit back and wait? Hoping that he doesn't find someone else so that maybe, someday, in the distant future, he comes back? When I'm what? Forty? Forty-five? Fifty? I told Danny that I was interested in a relationship and that Justin and I were over. I sipped the whiskey and thought about that. Did I say that just to comfort him, to stop him from feeling bad about being a one-night stand, or did I mean it? Shit, with Justin, I tried my best to convince him he was a one-night stand and couldn't get rid of him. With Danny, in trying to convince him it was something more, maybe I went too far and I'll end up losing any chance of that something more with him when he finds out that Justin and I are not as "over" as I indicated. Either way, I'm clearly an asshole. Maybe "they" are right and I'm not intended to be a relationship person. I thought back to how I felt turning around after scoring that goal and seeing Danny lying crumpled on the field. I still felt a cold chill at the memory. Thank God, Daphne had been there.

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(Flashback: That Afternoon; Soccer Field; POV/Daphne)

I pushed through the crowd of muddy male bodies. Brian was crouching on the ground with Danny's head in his lap. Danny's body had been rolled over so he was no longer facedown. I hoped whoever had moved him had been careful. Jamie seemed to be checking him over. Most of the other assorted O'Keefes and Erie players seemed to be more concerned with arguing over the illegal play by Danny, the morality of the players' respective female relatives, and whether the remaining thirty seconds on the clock needed to be played.

"Come on, Danny boy, get up and walk it off, there's a good lad, you're okay," Jamie coaxed.

"Don't call him that," Brian and I said in unison. Jamie looked at us as though we were nuts. I quickly checked Danny's pulse and vitals. He moaned a bit as I touched his right arm and I saw that the forearm was swollen and red. Remembering how his upper body had gotten caught between those two Erie monsters, I thought it likely he fractured his radius at the very least. There was no deformity so hopefully it was not displaced. Still, he would need to go for x-rays. Given the loss of consciousness, I was pretty sure he sustained a concussion as well. I quickly explained this to Brian.

"Are you done?" The green-eyed oaf next to me asked impatiently.

"No, I'm not. I was just debating whether we should call an ambulance or risk taking him to the hospital in one of the cars here. He really hasn't regained consciousness fully, so by my watch," I glanced down, "that makes it a full four minutes that he has been out," I informed him in my best clinical voice.

Jamie sighed, long and loudly, and then looked at Brian. "Let me guess, girl wonder here is a nurse? Or even a nurse practitioner?" Without waiting for an answer, he turned back to me. "Danny gets hurt almost every game. He's always getting the wind knocked out of him, comes from playing like a hero, like he just did for Brian. See, he's waking up already, he'll be fine in a minute. He'll shake out those pretty curls of his, well, he would if he didn't have them in those damn tight braids, and then he'll walk around, and be fine. Okay, Nurse Daphne?" The asshole had the nerve to flash me his big dimpled smile!

I swear steam was probably coming out of my tight braids, like a Looney Tunes character. I felt Cynthia's hand on my shoulder, probably to calm me down. I looked down at Danny, whose eyes were flickering. He smiled weakly at me.

"Go get him, girlfriend," he murmured softly. Brian looked at me inscrutably. I made up my mind. Danny needed a hero, and damn it, I knew I was right.

"Listen, you big, dumb, Irish ... brother, his right arm is swollen and getting worse by the minute; it hurts him if it is touched. Make yourself useful and get some ice for fuck's sake to keep the swelling down so they can get an x-ray when we finally get him to the hospital. A splint would be a good idea, too, if there is anything here to use so we don't make it worse moving him since in case you don't know it, he makes his living using his arms to play piano? Plus, a loss of consciousness of that duration is significant, especially in someone who has had repeated head traumas over a short period of time. If what you are saying is true, and if anything, it's probably worse than what you're saying, the fact that Danny has had more than one concussion over the past year is reason to be seriously concerned about this probable one. He not only struck his head hard as he was hit by each of those two Erie players, but he hit the ground hard, too. And in case you're wondering how I know all this, it's because I was watching him while the rest of you were watching Brian score. So that makes three impacts to his head today, and you don't even need an impact to the head to sustain a concussion!" I took a breath.

"And, for your information, I'm not a nurse, although any nurse would know this basic information, I'm a medical student, asshole, and I've worked part time jobs in hospitals to pay my way through college for the past four years. I'm also a trained EMT, so I know what I'm talking about, besides which, I took the time to examine Danny, which is more than you did, Mr. Get Up and Walk It Off!" I managed to get it all said, quietly but fiercely. And without punching the dimples off his smug face. In all fairness, the smugness was long gone from his face. And he probably couldn't help the dimples; they were probably handed out at birth at the O'Keefe house. Even unconscious, Danny's face kept a trace of his.

"Well, Jamie?" Brian asked in a low voice. He was stroking Danny's forehead gently. I couldn't tell if Danny had lost consciousness again or not. His eyes were closed. I was impatient with Brian; why was he deferring to this idiot? I was about to ask when....

Jamie stood up. "M.P., get the larger black bag from my car, there should a splint in it, make sure before you bring it. If it isn't in the bag, look in the back seat. Go now, stat! John, get some ice from the food area. Enough for his arm and another for his head."

I looked at him in surprise, and he answered the question in my eyes as Mary Pat came running back with the big black medical bag.

"I'm the big, dumb, Irish, doctor brother." He expertly applied the splint. Watching Danny grit his teeth at the pain, Brian asked Jamie if he could give him anything to relieve it.

"Not until we figure out how bad the head injury is. Sorry, Danny, but you can feel free to pass out again if it gets too bad." He spoke roughly but his hands were very gentle, I noted, watching him like a hawk.

"Gee, thanks," Danny gasped. He was holding Brian's hand tightly with his left hand, the knuckles white.

Brian bent down to whisper in his ear. "Asshole, why did you pull a stunt like that? Your brother's right, that's the way to get hurt." He gave him a kiss to take the sting out of his words.

The other players were moving away, the Referee apparently deciding the game was over and that the O'Keefes had won. Matt left to supervise the departure of the disconsolate Erie team. He also ordered the rest of the family away from the injured Danny while the treatment was going on, with the exception of Mary Pat, who, surprisingly, turned out to be an oncology nurse. The three of us were allowed to stay as well. Emmett opted to stay with the O'Keefe women to comfort them. While Danny apparently did get hurt each game, one way or another, there was some realization that this injury was worse than most when he still hadn't gotten up after several minutes passed. Several of the pretty little nieces, with whom Uncle Danny was a favorite, were clustered around Emmett crying.

"It's my job, designated hero, you heard Joey before the game," Danny tried joking, in a faint voice, as Jamie tightened the splint. "Fuck, Jamie," he gasped.

"Sorry, Danny Boy, no help for it, the lady says it's broken and who am I to argue with a pretty lady?" He tried smiling at me again, but I just snorted at him.

"You're just mad because she's probably right, but that's no reason to take it out on me," he winced. "Does it have to be that fucking tight?" Danny gasped just before passing out again.

Jamie swore, and then yelled, "where is that fucking ice?" He looked around for John.

"Sorry, Jamie, I had to go to the Erie guys for some, ours ran out." John came running up with a bucket of ice. "Is the little guy okay?" He looked down, a worried expression on his handsome face. Jamie started putting the ice on the afflicted arm and wrapping it loosely before answering.

"He'll be fine. We're just going to take him over to Allegheny. John, call Mama and tell her he won't be with her for dinner tonight; just say he's having dinner with Brian, she'll accept that. And be sure to tell Briana, shit, I don't know what to tell Briana. Mary Pat, you handle Briana, okay? We'll see what they say at the hospital and then I'll call you about what to do with Briana, okay?" Mary Pat had mentioned earlier that Danny's niece was a difficult child that only he could handle.

The siblings nodded. Jamie picked Danny up as though he weighed no more than a child, being careful not to jostle his head or the injured arm, which he had first placed carefully across Danny's chest.

"Brian, walk next to me and make sure his arm doesn't move. John, keep the crowd clear ahead of me, I don't want anyone bumping us; he's out now, may as well keep him that way." Jamie looked down at his brother's face, which was pale beneath its tan. Brian didn't look much better; I reached over and gave his free hand a squeeze.

Jamie continued, "Brian, I'm going to drive him over to the hospital in my car, it has M.D. tags so we can go fast and pull right up to the E.R. door. Can you hold him steady in the back seat? The family just frets him so it would be better if you could come with me instead of one of us. Joey's as bad as the girls, with his fussing over him, they all treat him like he's ten."

"Sure," Brian said, relieved, I think, to be included. "Daph, can you follow in my car, and Cyn, can you take Emmett home?" We both nodded.

Brian looked at me sharply. "You can drive a stick, can't you?"

"Of course she can," Jamie interrupted cheerfully, "and if we get a flat on the way, she'll no doubt be able to change it for us, too."

Emmett had walked up and had to put in his two cents worth.

"Well, you'd better hope so, because if you were counting on Brian to do it, you'd be out of luck. You take good care of that sweetheart, you hear?" Jamie nodded curtly, but he did pause to let Em give the unconscious Danny a gentle kiss good-bye. Jamie then strode off with Brian next to him, and me trotting along behind, trying to keep up with his long strides. I was worried about Danny's continued unconsciousness, but reminded myself that he'd just played a really tough game; plus he probably had not gotten much sleep the night before with Brian. He was no doubt exhausted, that was all. Still, I would feel a lot better when we got to the hospital. I noticed that for all his casual attitude and insistence that nothing was wrong, Dr. Jamie went about eighty miles per hour the whole way to the hospital and flew through every light that he could. Yeah, like he wasn't worried. This was one time, however, that being right didn't make me feel better. I didn't even enjoy getting to speed in Brian's 'Vette. Well, not much, at least.

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(Setting: Allegheny Hospital; Same Day; POV/Brian)

Danny's arm had been broken, exactly as Daph had predicted, but it was a minor, hairline fracture that was expected to heal quickly. It was actually the lesser of his injuries. The concussion was a serious one. He kept going in and out of consciousness for the next hour. When Jamie had the ER staff bring the Chief Neurologist in from his Sunday dinner for a consult, the man didn't even complain once he looked over the history and started running tests. The really horrible moment was when big Jamie broke down while we were waiting for Danny to come back from a CT scan and could not stop crying. I didn't know what to do and it was Daphne who comforted him. I was speechless. I thought she was going to rip him a new asshole after the neurologist left because it looked like everything she had said was right. But just as Jamie was saying that it was all his fault, and he never should have allowed Danny to play after the first concussion, and if there were permanent damage he would turn in his medical license and become a truck driver, she was just as fiercely defending Jamie! When I left, shaking my head, to get us all coffee, there she was, holding this big weeping Irishman, who was about three times her size, on her lap, patting his head and telling him everything would be all right.

When he got back from radiology, Danny was conscious. He gave me a weak version of that dimpled smile.

"You know, if you didn't want to go out tonight, you just had to say so, you didn't have to go be all dramatic about it," I told him.

"What can I say, I'm an actor, I'm gay, I do have to be all dramatic about everything," he smiled again, a little stronger this time. "Want to sign my cast? I wanted a pink one but Jamie wouldn't let me." Jamie groaned, but it was a half-hearted effort.

"You're lucky you didn't even try asking for pink, he's feeling so guilty, you'd have gotten it before he even realized you were kidding," Daphne told him with a grin at Jamie, who looked sheepish. "Although I did think of asking for a nice black one to go with your tuxedo, that would have been stylish."

"Oh girl, that would've been!" Danny agreed with a wan smile. He looked over at his brother. "So, what's with the guilt, Jamie? Did you push me into those Erie guys? Or worse? You put a contract out on me! I always suspected you of being jealous of my superior soccer skill, but this?"

"Danny, I am so sorry," Jamie began.

"Sorry is bullshit, James Joshua. I made my own decisions about playing, and about how hard to play. If you had ever told me I was red-shirted I would have told you to fuck off and Matt would have listened to me. So, get off your little guilt trip, you are making my head hurt with that long face. If you want to do penance, you can help with Mama, make sure she knows I'm perfectly fine and will be home tomorrow. And if you really want to wear the hair-shirt, make sure Briana isn't too upset, then we really will be all square, okay?" Danny looked anxiously at his older brother for a moment.

"Can't I just give up my medical license instead?" Jamie looked at him, hopefully.

Danny laughed weakly. "Come on, she isn't that bad. But she'll be upset, she knows I'm always home with her and Mama on Sunday nights, so if you don't get there soon and tell her I'm okay, and come up with something, she'll freak out. And when she does that, she's too much for Mama. Maybe I should check out of this hospital, after all. It's not like they can keep me here if I insist on leaving, can they?" He looked at Daphne.

"You're staying." All three of us answered.

"Why is Briana a problem?" I asked. The doctor had wanted to keep Danny in for observation for at least one night and had warned that he could expect to feel worse over the next several hours. Apparently vomiting and blurred vision were common concussion symptoms that appeared over the course of several days following an impact. In his case, because of the severity of the concussion, they wanted to watch him for the first twenty-four hours and would only let him go home tomorrow if his symptoms were under control.

Danny closed his eyes. He looked like shit. He was having terrible head pain already, as well as pain in his arm, and they were only giving him Tylenol for it so the tests weren't affected. I got up and switched the overhead light off, and he smiled his thanks. Why do hospitals think they need so much light? Jamie answered my question about Briana; the one about lighting would remain a mystery.

"She has ADD, ODD, HAHD; you name it, she's probably been diagnosed with it, although how they can tell a four year old even has these conditions is beyond me. She's a bit of a wild child and no doubt has a certain number of behavioral and developmental problems related to Angel's drug and alcohol use during pregnancy," Jamie answered quietly as Danny showed no signs of responding.

"We don't know that," Danny objected quietly. "Maybe some of her ‘problems,' as you call them, are due to the family always making comments about her mother in front of her? Briana is an extremely gifted and bright child who responds well to loving care."

"Then if she's so smart, and I'm not saying she isn't, maybe some of her behavioral problems are due to Mama and "Uncle Daddy" spoiling her rotten?" Jamie was frowning; this was obviously an old family argument. At least it made Jamie forget his pathetic guilt.

"Okay, maybe you two can hash this out some other time?" Daphne suggested briskly. "For tonight, Jamie, since you are so penitent, and you want Danny to be able to rest easy and not feel like he has to leave this hospital a minute earlier than is good for him, can you try to treat Briana every bit as patiently and nicely as he would, even if it means spoiling her rotten?" Daphne grinned at him.

"I really want to, but the problem is, I have no idea how to act around children!" he protested, running his hands though his hair. He looked almost as beat up as Danny. "I avoid the nieces and nephews as much as possible until they're old enough to be human. Danny's the one they like."

"Daphne could maybe help you, if Briana doesn't mind new people?" I suggested, feeling mischievous. Daphne looked at me suspiciously. "Daph, you know you're great with kids, Gus loves you."

"But, but, with all those aunts and uncles, there must be someone better...." Daphne looked a bit nervous. I didn't think it was the thought of the four year old terror so much as the uncle that was making the usually fearless, and kind hearted, Daphne hesitate to help out in this instance.

"Briana dislikes her aunts and uncles for the most part, mainly because they think she behaves badly and they don't hesitate to show it," Danny spoke quietly from the bed, his eyes still closed. "For the most part, they're right. When I'm not there to make her behave, she can be a brat. But they behave badly, too. It's a long story. But she does like Jamie better than most of them. One, he doesn't have any children so he has no preset ideas. Two, he doesn't say bad things about her mother in front of her. And three, he usually has new people around him and she likes meeting new people." He opened his eyes and looked at Daphne pleadingly. "I hate to be even more of a bother than I've been, Daph, but she would like you, because you are new and fun and pretty. She's really very bright and I love her dearly. If you could take her out and feed her dinner, wear her out, so she doesn't exhaust my mother, I'd be so grateful." Danny gave her his incredibly sweet smile. Jamie smiled at her too, and I could see she was caving. I wondered which smile did it? Maybe it was the effect of being double teamed by those O'Keefe dimples.

"I'll drive you home afterward, and get you back in plenty of time to get a good night's sleep for morning classes at Pitt." Jamie promised.

"Okay, it's a deal, but only for Danny, not you, you big, dumb, Irish...." Hmm, the girl protests too much, I thought. She looked at me as though she read my mind, and blushed.

"Brother, yeah, I know." Jamie finished it for her, grinning, clearly feeling much better. He looked down at Danny.

"Okay, little one, you're going to stay here until tomorrow when I show up for my shift, no signing out, right? I'll bring Mama over early so she can see for herself that you're alive and well. But it would probably be a good idea for you to call tonight if you feel up to it, maybe in an hour or so? Give me time to prepare her."

"Yeah, I'll do that," Danny agreed. He closed his eyes again. I was pretty sure he was in a great deal of pain at this point and was just waiting for them to leave so he could collapse. I could recall what that felt like from times when my dad gave me an extra bad thrashing as a kid.

"Brian, you coming?" Jamie asked as he reached the door.

"In a few. I just want to sit with Danny for a few minutes, then I'll head out also. Later, birthday girl. Next year we'll have to try for a little excitement, okay? No more of these dull weekends." I pulled Daphne in for a hug then gave her a kiss on the lips. She laughed softly and gave me a hard hug back before heading off. I watched them thoughtfully. I had a feeling this was the beginning of something big. Not easy, but big. I turned and looked at Danny. He smiled ruefully at me. I walked back and sat carefully on the edge of the bed.

"Well, kiddo, you need some sleep and probably have had enough of everyone talking at you, but I wanted to make sure you didn't need anything before I booked, too." I looked down at his face on the pillow. He looked about eighteen lying there; it was so hard not to think of another boy lying so still in a hospital bed. It seemed a lifetime ago now.

"You certainly got more than you bargained for, didn't you?" he whispered. "I would apologize but like I said to Jamie...."

"Sorry is bullshit. Aren't I the one who taught you that?" I laughed softly. "The soccer game was fun." I stroked his good arm and smiled. "I'm sorry you got hurt. That sucks."

"Yeah," he agreed; his fingers closed over mine.

"I put my card in your wallet so you can reach me. It's in the table there with your other personal stuff. Call me tomorrow when you know when you're getting out, or even if you just want to talk, okay?"

"Okay, thanks."

"Want me to come over to your place if you get home tomorrow? Feed you chicken soup? Or will you be at your Mom's?" God, I couldn't believe that was me talking. I must have been channeling Debbie or something.

He smiled faintly. "Well, if I get my way, I'll be as far away from the family as possible, or I'll have hysterics, but it's more likely than not, I'll have them swarming all over my condo within an hour of my discharge. So I may be calling you and asking for a rescue. For some reason, my sisters think I have a desperate need to be surrounded by them and their ill mannered children whenever I am ill—no doubt so I can give thanks for being a childless gay man." I smiled at his wry face.

"Well, you call if you need that rescue. I'll come with my bullwhip and shield and drive them out." I squeezed his hand.

"It's a deal. Night," he murmured. I kissed him on the head and slipped out of the room.

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(Setting: The Loft; Early hours of Monday morning, after Daphne's birthday weekend; POV/Brian)

I sipped my whiskey and thought about what I wanted as the hours slipped past. I knew I wanted to see Danny again. The sex with him had been incredible, but beyond that, we had connected in a way I had not connected with anyone since Justin. It made me realize how far apart Justin and I had drifted. It was more than just the distance. I'd always been closer to Justin than to any other living person, even Mikey, regardless of how many asses I was fucking or how many tricks were sucking me. Hell, the two times we weren't able to have sex, when he was recovering from the bashing, and when I was recovering from the cancer, we were close emotionally.

Now, there was a distance that had nothing to do with geography. And it didn't start with his move to New York either, if I were completely honest with myself, which I always tried to be. I went along with him when he said I was acting like someone else when I turned down the lap-dance at that fiasco of a bachelor party, but the truth was, I didn't want that guy. I'd come to realize that I only wanted Justin and the last thing I wanted to do was to fuck some guy in front of him and risk seeing the hurt in his eyes again. I'd done enough of that. I never wanted to see that look in his eyes again and know that I'd put it there. But, irony of ironies, he didn't believe that, or at least, he said he didn't believe that. Part of me still questioned that. Why didn't Justin believe I could change, when it was exactly what he'd said he was waiting for all the years we were working our way towards being together?

The same was true with wanting to cuddle ... I tried to cover, but I was floored by his rejection of my wanting to cuddle with him. I felt like he was looking for reasons to cancel the wedding, and loving him, what else could I do, but give him what he wanted? His freedom.

Cynthia was reading a book the other week, one of those chick, self-help books, but a harsh, realistic one, titled something like, "He Just Isn't That Into You." I borrowed it when she was at lunch one day, and damn if half the stuff didn't sound like Justin and me. He doesn't return my calls, he doesn't make plans to get together like he used to—face it Kinney, he just isn't that into you any more. And now I find out he has a new boyfriend, or at least a new something. I know the newspapers exaggerate things, but Justin hasn't mentioned this guy at all. Which means something.

This thought brings me back to Danny. I always liked him a lot. I remember actually thinking about it for more than a minute when he made his pass at me when he was a kid, and having a hard time pushing him away. Shit, he was only a year younger than Justin was when I got involved with him, and I was only twenty-two when Danny hit on me! Twenty-two and I thought sixteen was too young to fuck; when did I become a dirty old man, I wondered? Danny is nothing like Justin, which is a good thing. It isn't like before when I went out and tried finding guys who reminded me of Justin; blue-eyed blonds with bubble butts. They were always just pale imitations, unsatisfying.

Danny was vibrant, exciting, totally himself. I smiled, thinking about last night. He fucking flipped me like it was nothing before I realized I was even being thrown. He was such a mixture of innocence and experience. His eyes looked at me with such intensity when I finally entered him, I couldn't remember when I had such an incredible ... actually, I could. It was only once before. But the difference here was, I knew enough to value the experience this time, to know that I cared for the man beneath me, and it added to it. With Justin, I was blind to what was happening. Hindsight is twenty-twenty, but at least maybe I can learn from my mistakes for once. I sent Danny away before. I wasn't going to do it again, I decided.

I drank some more Beam and wondered what it would be like to be topped by Danny. Those muscular legs were amazing to look at, to touch. His nude body made Drew Boyd look out of shape. He'd let drop a few clues about his years in New York and on the road that were enough to convince me that "Little Danny" had lived a fairly wild life before settling down back in the Pitts. Yet, he was not at all hardened. He still brought out that protective side of me; what touched me was that I felt protected when I was with him as well. I could feel his eyes on me the whole time we were playing today, up until that damn final play. I was on such a high as I headed down the field, I didn't even notice those two guys gunning for me, but Danny did. How he got to them before they reached me I'll never know. I'd be in a wheelchair if they carried out their plan, probably with both knees broken at least. Instead he was the one in the hospital. Yet, instead of worrying about himself, he was worried about Angel's kid. That was Danny, the family care-giver, his Mama's boy.

I put the glass down. Time to stop drinking. It was making me maudlin. Time to get some sleep. Time to move forward. I was Brian Kinney and I learned at an early age, if you stayed still, something or someone hit you, and it usually hurt. I couldn't move backward to change the past, so that left only forward if I wanted to try to avoid the pain. No guarantees, I learned that too, but I had to try to make something out of the rest of my life. I loved Justin, that would never change. I told him that, and after taking so long to tell him, there was no way I was ever going to deny it again. But maybe, just maybe, I could learn to love again. I owed it to myself to try. I was fucking tired of lying alone in that bed. Justin Taylor was my past. Maybe he was my future, too, but my present was empty, and I was no longer willing to accept that. It was time for a change and what I told Danny this morning was real. I was ready to give a new relationship a chance. Decision made, I headed off to bed, and for the first time in six months, I was able to sleep soundly in that damn bed.

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