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Shadows Of You

By Laz Briar

How simple a thing a letter is.

In it, carries the contents of privacy, finance, melancholy, love, law. Anything, really. For Anson, it was a vehicle of resurrection.

At first, he looked at it with disinterest. Nothing out of the ordinary, a plain white envelope from an address he didn't recognize. Until, at second glance, he saw it was handwritten. And then he saw the name.

The after-work sun bore down on him, casting a long shadow over the envelope's contents. He hesitated. Surely, he was misreading the name? Surely this was a mistake?

No, it was there, plain as could be_. Jasper Elsweth_.

Memories came flooding in. His heart throbbed with a sober pain. He didn't know if he should even open the damn thing. But curiosity was the stronger beast, and it was hungry.

Within the envelope was a letter, also handwritten. An unmistakable syntax. It was Jasper.

It read:

Anson Hillwick,

I admit, it's funny writing that name again. I can't believe it's been so long, and I'm certainly to blame for it. I hope you don't fault me. I'm sorry, if it needs to be said.

There's so many things I want to say to you, but in a span of a letter it's hard. So, I'll start with some great news! I was engaged last month and now, happily married. I've moved out to New Mexico with my husband and we're both looking to invite our loved ones for some celebrating. We decided to put the money into our house instead of a wedding, but missed everyone.

Anson stopped. He read the paragraph over and over: happily married. He felt something. He didn't know what, though.

Everyone also includes you, especially. I thought about calling but, I admit, was pretty nervous. I hope you don't hold that against me either. Always was the shy one, right? I didn't even know if I found the right number.

But, anyway. Anson. I do hope you come out to see us. We're planning the get together on the 27th, end of July weekend. That's next week by the time this letter reaches you, maybe?

If you can't make it, we understand. I understand. It's a lot to ask out of the blue. But you're more than welcome to stay with us a few days. I'd love to hear your voice again. Everything is on us once you're down here, so if anything, free food right?

I hope you can make it. Write back if you want!

Sincerely, with all my love,

Jasper Elsweth

PS: Here's our address. No phone number though, if we talk, I want to hear it in person!

Anson poured over the words, as if they might vanish the moment he stopped reading. The address? White Rock, New Mexico.

It was so much at once. Like a dream revisited. He mulled it over, thinking, remembering. Did he have something to do end of July? Even if he didn't, was this something he wanted to do? He rubbed his neck, like it might relieve him in some way, or provide an answer to the hundreds of questions eating at his mind.

But then he remembered the most important thing: it wasn't his decision anymore. He didn't think as one. There was someone else.

-*-

“You never told me about him."

Ozzie's tone was curious, rough, perhaps even suspicious. He glanced at the letter like it was some invader, splayed out on the table like a discovered sin.

Anson nodded, his gaze distant. “I've been meaning to. It never really came up."

Ozzie leaned back in chair, rolling a paw-hand through hair. “Well, sure fuckin' came up now."

Anson flinched. “You're not mad, are you?"

Ozzie shrugged. “Nah, I'm not mad, man. I can't be. Guess it's just weird, finding out like this. I mean. . . what does he mean to you, Ans?"

Anson wanted to answer, but even he wasn't entirely sure. There lacked resolution.

“He's an old. . . well. He was my first one. First and only, until I met you."

Ozzie tilted his head, nose sniffing like it might catch a stranger's scent.

“First?"

Anson sighed. “Yeah. First boy I loved, I guess. When we were teens in private school. Things didn't end up too well though and we were split up."

Ozzie didn't react. At least, not in a way that indicated shock, horror, or betrayal.

“Look, Oz," Anson continued. “He doesn't mean that to me, not anymore."

Anson said the words, but a small part of him wondered if it was a lie.

“If you want, I can toss the letter like it never existed. We'll just go on like we have been."

Ozzie rolled his eyes, chuckling. “Babe. If this wasn't a big deal you wouldn't have sat me down and showed it to me. You don't have to pretend."

The yeendog reached out, playing with Anson's hand. “I get it man. I understand. I told you about Jax and I've been with other men before all this. But I've told you about them, that's all. It just makes me think, what else is goin' on with you you're not sharing? Are other letters gonna' start showing up?"

At once, Anson looked to his boy. “No_, no,_ of course not_._ Dammit, Oz, I'm sorry. I just, shit, it was almost a decade ago. I didn't think I'd ever have to mention it again. This is like. . . seeing a ghost."

Ozzie whistled. “A near ten years and he writes like he misses you. Anson, that's not nothing. You have a relationship with him, even if you don't wanna' admit it."

“Ozzie. . ."

“It's fine, babe. I'm not a jealous bitch. If you really need to settle something out with this 'Jasper,' I'm here for you. Pfft, fuck man, I think he's a little pretentious, if I'm honest. Ya' think he would've written that letter if he knew about me?"

A big toothy grin.

“Flauntin' his marriage and fancy New Mexico home. A real Cinderalla story, huh?"

This prompted a small laugh from Anson. “I guess so."

“Mmm. You wanna' go, I know you do. You didn't tell me about it, or how it ended. But must've been on a sour note to try and patch it up like this. Or, maybe you wanna' see who he married? Wanna' see what that guy has that you don't?"

Anson groaned. “Shit, Ozzie, it's not like that."

Ozzie rested a cheek in paw-hand. “No? What is it like then?"

Those sweet green eyes burned into Anson. Kind, warm, yet full of accusation. For a while, Anson said nothing, thinking hard. He didn't know himself, not exactly. Not yet.

“I guess I just need to ask him something. We didn't really break up, we were forced apart, and. . . for years I wondered what could've been if we weren't. And then I met you."

Anson took a long breath.

“I need. . . to put this away. I need to say my peace, and I need to know what he thinks. Because I don't want to spend the rest of my life with this question, I want to spend it with you."

Ozzie didn't look impressed, but he offered a smile. “I know. But I don't want you to keep things from me. Okay?"

Anson nodded.

Ozzie tapped his finger. “If you can end it on a good note, you should. Most people don't even get that chance."

The paw hand stroked along Anson's arm. “And if it means you'll be happy, then fuckin' do it. I want that for you."

Anson brightened. “You mean it? You'll come with me?"

Ozzie grumbled, arching his neck, feigning a pout. “Of course I'm comin' with you, Ansy. I mean, now I gotta' go shopping, but whatever. Get a new ear piece or two, gold is too tacky for socials like this."

Anson started to laugh. “I'll take you somewhere."

“Yes, you will."

A well of hope blossomed within Anson. Truth be told, he wasn't sure if he had the strength to handle something like this on his own. What if Ozzie wasn't with him? Would he even respond? Anson shuddered at the idea, to confront such a happy world by his lonesome. God, even the state. He had talked with Jasper about that when they were young, travelling to New Mexico to retire or something. It was like someone was living his dream for him.

But he wasn't alone. As long as he had Ozzie, this miserable foe was conquerable. These old feelings, these sobering pains of melancholy and uncertainty, he could put them to rest. He hoped.

They continued to talk. After figuring out a few details about the trip like travel costs, Anson set about typing a response letter. He decided to keep it short, formal, and to the point.

It read:

Jasper,

It's good to hear from you. Thank you for inviting me, and I'm eager to see you and your husband.

He had hesitated over the next line, wondering how to phrase it.

I'll also be bringing a plus one, and I look forward to introducing them to you. Be well, and until then.

Love,

Anson

After such, he left contact details (just in case) and prepared to send it.

The rest of the evening was spent as the others: Ozzie and Anson sharing a dinner as they wound down from work. For now, there was no reason to dredge up old memories, not yet. Anson only wanted to remind himself just how special his boyfriend was.

-*-

The following week, the two spent a sparse amount of time prepping for the big trip. They had settled on flight, budgeting for things like hotel, food, and any other itinerary. Anson wasn't sure if Jasper was prepared to host two, so he didn't assume.

As promised, Anson also took the yeendog out to shop, where his boy came to life in puppy-like fashion. Ozzie fawned over the latest trends in men's fashion, trying on earrings or wristlets, asking how they looked with badgering persistence. Anson was happy to answer each time, of course.

The 27th was not patient. By the time they cleared up a day off for the coming Friday, it was nearly upon them. To get a head start, they planned to leave early morning, hoping to end up at the Albuquerque International around afternoon's time. That would give them time to acclimate, they figured.

And so the day was upon them.

Despite the dreadful early hours, Ozzie took every measure to account for his appearance. He styled his mane, chose a small silver hoop earring with matching neck piece and some fashionable – but appropriate – clothes for the occasion. Anson did his best to follow suit, but, how does one know what to wear when they see a phantom from their past?

After preparing, the locked up Anson's place – their home – and left. They went to Camarillo Airport, escaping most of the early traffic, checking in their baggage without much trouble. They would be taking one of the newer charters, Greatwing, which promised a swift flight time of about two hours.

Some waiting and getting through checks after, they were seated, and carried away. Anson took one last glimpse at the shrinking ground, a stranger going to a strange land.

Once airborne, Ozzie let off a blanketing yawn, wiggling in his seat.

“Ugh, wake me when we get there man. I'm getting back my beauty sleep."

Anson smiled, getting the yeendog a pillow. “All right. Rest up."

Admittedly, Anson was fatigued himself, but knots of anxiety were twisting in his stomach. He couldn't rest. Every time he tried, visions of young Jasper came flooding into this mind. God. What was he going to say? How could he ask the things that had wandered his thoughts for so many years?

He felt guilty.

When I saw you last, Jasper, you were in my arms. Now you're in the arms of someone else.

God. How could he even think that? How could he even conceivably have a right to such a thought? Especially after what he'd done?

He looked at Ozzie, the yeendog resting comfortably, chest rising with quiet, relaxed breaths.

He's mine. This one. I love him, and I'll never let him go. So why should I still think about Jasper like this?

Because it wasn't finished. That he knew. Because, there ever lingered the possibility of “what if."

The agony of the memory ripped its way back into him, the one he always tried to ignore. The tree, the lake, the sunny hill. His body with Jaspers, the smell of young coyote and human, so close, new, exploring. How anxious they both were, how loving and nervous, full of youthful curiosity. How the whole world seemed to make sense and fall into place, like a dream weaving itself into reality.

And then how, in one ugly snap, Lanner Hask wandered up and found them. Ugly Hask, so full of malice. Ugly Hask, who threatened to tell his posse about them, get his “fag catchers" together until he “beat them straight."

How Anson, so full of fear and anger, did they only thing he could, took the only object he could find, and turned Hask's face into a contortion of bruises and blood. How he felt so much unrelenting rage, how it came over him like a fever, how he threatened Hask.

How those words came out of his mouth with such gruesome, disgusting certainty: If you ever say anything to anyone, I will fucking kill you.

Hask ran, he remembered, stumbling away. He looked at Jasper, he remembered too. And instead of seeing the boy he fell in love with, instead of seeing the smiling, gentle coyote greet him with an embrace, he saw terror and concern.

And there it was left. And there, things changed. The Hillwick's were a conservative, influential family, and the Hask clan knew very much of their son's penchant for trouble. But violence couldn't be ignored. Anson was sent to a different private school to settle the affair, and he never saw Jasper again. He supposed that was a lucky outcome, considering what he'd done.

But what if he hadn't done that? What if he hadn't ruined everything?

Ever still, another chilling question lingered, one that Anson was too scared to confront:

What was Ozzie going to think?

-*-

Perhaps, at some point, Anson did fall asleep, but he couldn't remember. Rather, all he knew was that a voice crackled over intercom telling flight passengers they would be arriving at the International soon. Outside, the landscape of New Mexico stretched on with patches of long, hot desert, buildings, shrubbery, and roads. The sky stung with a harsh, beautiful blue, clear and cloudless, promising a dry, hot day.

Anson nudged his companion gently, waking him.

“Oz," he whispered. “We're almost there hon, we gotta' get ready."

The yeendog grumbled, tail thumping seat with agitation, offering a fat yawn in reply.

“Nng, no, you go, I'll just sleep and they can take me back," he mumbled.

“They don't serve beer on the plane, though."

That, at least, prompted Ozzie to open his eyes. Shifting, he offered Anson an exhausted smirk as the plane began its descent.

Once they had landed safely, the passengers began their routine of collecting their things and exiting. Fortunately, Anson and Oz only had a few bags for themselves, so it was only a moment before they were off, met by the hustle of Albuquerque International.

They stopped by a diner for a very quick lunch, a water and sandwiches for both, before navigating to the airport's rental area. Modern conveniences meant that visitors could rent a vehicle directly from the airport, versus needing to take transportation, and so they were able to find a car without much trouble.

Anson decided to drive, seeing as Ozzie was still a little sleepy, checking his phone for directions. From the letter, Jasper had indicated they were on Meadow Lane, a strip of street connected to a massive neighborhood, right next to Gallow's Edge. According to the map directions, it was about a two hour drive, so they would make it by one-ish.

Once leaving the airport, the scorching splendor of New Mexico was free for Anson to observe. Anson cranked the AC, seeing as how Ozzie was already under a coat of grey fur, but even then the tingling heat could be felt from the outside.

It was hard to imagine anything living out here. Roads and streets were surrounded by hot patches of sand, intermixed with the kind of flora capable of surviving the harsh environment. There were no forests to speak of, rather scabs of brush and shrubbery synchronizing with sprawls of buildings. Beyond that, the endless landscape of the state, the stretching desert and its beautiful formations, mountains, and canyons.

Eventually, Anson's phone instructed him to hop on the 88-84, a highway that appeared to go on for ages. So much, in fact, the road lead him to the twists and curves of endless hills, absent of even a gas station. For a while, he wondered if he'd gotten lost, that he might take a turn and find himself at a dead end. But, once he was on Pajarito Road, he found himself on the right track, a “straight" shot directly to the little world known as White Rock.

Ozzie was still napping, but Anson rubbed his shoulder to wake him.

“Hey, Oz, I think we're here. . ."

Oz shook himself away, granting one more big yawn. Indeed, his gaze spied a little rock formation, a sign welcoming incoming drivers to White Rock.

“Good," said Ozzie, “My ass is gettin' sore."

Anson had to admit, the travel was starting to wear on him too. But it wouldn't be long now, so he assumed.

Indeed, they passed a “hub" of hotels and eateries, crowning what was essentially, a massive nexus of houses and neighborhoods. There were streets upon streets veering off into yet more streets, every inch dotted with a house suitable for a retiree.

From what Anson could see in his directions, Jasper's place sat at the very back end of White Rock, quite literally near the flank of a canyon.

It took some time to find the place, Anson having to constantly glance at his phone to make sure the address was right. But eventually, the correct house swam up to him as he double checked one last time.

That was it. Caught in the middle of two other houses, with a lawn shielded by massive trees, there sat Jasper's home, the one with his husband. A huge red pickup sat in the front, along with all the other luxuries of a nice house: good size, garage, and what seemed to be a pool in the backyard.

A few other cars were also parked, one in the street and another next to the pickup. Anson found a tiny space for the rental, keying off the ignition. He took a breath.

“This it?" said Ozzie, taking a curious glance.

“It's gotta be. Otherwise we'll be confusing some folks."

Ozzie unbuckled, starting to shift, but Anson didn't move. His hands didn't even leave the steering wheel, staring at it.

His chest fluttered in all the wrong ways, and anxieties still twisted through him like a snake.

“Anson?"

He cleared his throat. “Dunno' if I'm ready."

Ozzie put a paw-hand on Anson's knee. “You came all this way. No turnin' back now, man. C'mon, it's been a long time, at least go say hi."

Anson exhaled. Goddammit, Ozzie. What would he do without him?

Oz was the first out of the car, stretching. He whistled as the stinging, dry New Mexico heat bore down on him, Anson soon following suit. He popped the trunk to get their baggage, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw the house door open. Someone was coming.

Ozzie leaned into the car, watching. Anson came up next to his partner, notably stiff.

The yeendog muttered. “That him?"

A silhouette of shadow soon transformed into a living vision. Like the Fall season, hues of amber and blonde and brown intermixed with casual clothing and smiling expression as the figure stepped out. Lithe, tail swaggering, eyes a beautiful blue. Even the little nick on left ear was still there.

It was Jasper.

At first his movements were slow, as if cautious, looking over the newly arrived pair. Once Jasper realized who it was, his features changed completely.

“Anson? Anson?"

Ozzie looked to his partner, who remained stiff. He nudged him with elbow.

Snapping out of it, Anson stepped forward, setting down luggage. “Yeah. Yeah! Hey, it's me. It's me, uh. Jasper?"

The coyote's muzzle tugged with a soft smile, approaching.

“Oh my god. . . wow! Look at you!"

And sooner than Anson realized, Jasper came up and granted him a small hug. “I can't believe it! Anson!"

Everything came rushing back like a wellspring of familiarity. The scent of coyote, the touch of his fur, the light grasp of his paws. For a fraction of time, Anson lost himself, and returned the hug. For a moment of a second, if even that, he was back at home, after class, talking with Jasper, embracing.

But Jasper's touch wasn't long, and ended as quickly as it started. It was more a quick, friendly gesture.

“Yeah, it's me," Anson said, uncertain. Here the coyote was, so close now, close enough to hold. Yet, at the same time, he was so, so far away, a world of his own.

“It's good to see you Jasper."

Jasper nodded. “It is, it is. I'm so glad you made it."

Here, his gaze turned to Ozzie, keeping that smile. “And who is this handsome devil? The 'plus one'?"

Anson couldn't help but feel concerned, realizing how he must've looked to Oz. He glanced to his partner who. . . did not change in expression. No, nothing gave the impression that Ozzie was angered or bothered. Curious, more like.

“Handsome devil? Mmm, I like the sound of that," said Ozzie.

He reached out with paw hand.

“Oh, yeah," started Anson. “Jasper, this is my boyfriend, Ozzie."

Jasper's eyes widened. He looked between the two, smile becoming a cheery grin.

“What! Anson! You didn't say that in the letter! You sneak!" He laughed, looking at the yeendog with excitement.

“Ozzie? My god, my god, it's so nice to meet you." Jasper took the hand-paw, shaking, his own tail waggling.

“I can see why. Goodness. Ozzie! Your hair! I love it. The earring too? Ooh, I'm so jealous. Is that designer? We don't get anything that nice out in White Rock."

Ozzie flushed just a bit, running a hand through his grey-tipped mane. “Nice to meet you too, Jasper. And aww, come on, you're just sayin' that."

Jasper looked the yeendog over. “Oh no, I couldn't lie if I wanted to. You have to ride out of town if you want anything close to fancy. Or order it. Ahh, that's the price I guess, Saul was so set on coming out here. Quiet, sure, but pretty removed from luxury stores too."

Anson was beside himself, watching Jasper again. So bright and full of vitality. All that kindness and genuine affection. To his profound relief, any friction between he and Ozzie also vaporized, if there was any to begin with.

Jasper raised his hand. “Oh, but I better stop before I get ahead of myself. Let's get you two out of this heat! We've got drinks ready, and a pool."

Ozzie chuckled. “Drinks? Never too early to get smashed."

Jasper returned the laugh. “Oh? Oh Saul's going to like you, I can tell."

At this point, it was clear to Anson that “Saul" must have meant the husband. The person he was not. Perhaps Ozzie was right before they left, perhaps he wanted to know what qualities he himself was so lacking in. He had to know.

Grabbing their bags of luggage, Anson and Ozzie soon followed Jasper into the house. In it was a traditional wooded construction with a massive living room and several bedrooms, all adorned with New Mexico stylings. Paintings and photographs of family lined the wall while a large glass planed door lead out to a backyard, complete with pool, grill, and other visitors.

It was everything Anson could've wanted in a home, and more.

“Wow, this is gorgeous," said Anson, looking around. Parts of him couldn't help but feel envy, if not even a little embarrassment. All he had was a small apartment in southern California. But here? You could raise a family.

“Ohh, it's not much. We're still putting it together, haven't even broken it in, really," said Jasper.

He turned, eyeing their luggage. “You two planning on staying the night? We got the guest room prepped just in case."

Anson looked at Ozzie. “Ahh. I dunno if we want to impose."

The yeendog grinned back. “Depends on how much beer they got."

Jasper snickered. “Well lucky for you, a lot. We stocked up for everyone. We weren't really sure how many were coming over so. . . maybe we overdid it."

“And please, impose away," he continued, gesturing down a hall. “Only person staying for the weekend is my sister, and everyone else we just expect to hang around tonight."

Anson was surprised. “Caspia's here?"

Jasper nodded. “Yup. For a little while. Insisted on getting a hotel beforehand so, we're all freed up."

“Getting' the feeling you really want us here," Ozzie added with a playful smirk.

Jasper nodded. “Oh absolutely. We do. We'd be flattered really."

Taking the initiative, Jasper stepped forward, offering to take the bags. “I'll get your things in the room, if you'd like. Saul and Caspy are in the backyard, and the Robinsons are due in a bit. Better get your seat now while there's space!"

Anson couldn't say no, at this point. He was blindsided by all of it. Politely, he and Ozzie handed over their baggage while Jasper disappeared into the hall, likely to set their items aside in the guest room. It gave Anson a moment to find himself again.

Jasper was so unbelievably happy, it was plain as day. His voice, his movement, all of it as fresh as the Spring season. There was a pleasant agony to see him smiling again, in that someone else was making him feel joy.

Some dread thought lingered in the back of Anson's mind: Could that have been me?

“He's a real sweetheart. I see why you liked him."

Ozzie's voice pulled him away from the conflicted headspace.

Anson shook head. “I. . . ach. I'm sorry Oz. I mean, I don't want to be. . . Hmm. I hope this isn't strange or uncomfortable. If this feels. . ."

Ozzie waived it off. “Anson, man. Relax. It's okay. It's fine you two still care about each other. He's happy you're here, and that's a lot more than most exes can say."

Exes. The word carried a gentle pain.

“Just have a good time," Ozzie continued. “And you know. Talk to him. Figure it out."

Anson sighed. “Yeah."

Ozzie supplied a quick peck on the cheek. “It won't get better until you do."

The warmth of his partner was all that Anson really needed, and for a moment, it put his thoughts at peace.

“This isn't bothering you?" Anson asked. “I understand if it's weird."

“Ugh, Anson. You're gonna make it weird if you keep that up."

He wasn't wrong. Ozzie, at least, found a groove for himself. The last thing Anson wanted was to form new bitter feelings over an old flame, who – painful as it appeared – looked to have moved on. The only one stuck in old shadows was Anson.

It's only you, Anson, he said to himself. Everyone else is happy and moving forward. You're still in the past. Still so vain.

“Come on, let's at least get a drink," Ozzie said. With a wag of the tail, the yeendog started towards the massive glass panel doors adjacent to the house kitchen, where others were visible. Anson followed, trying to shake off himself, for all the good it did.

Outside, the backyard was a beautiful square nest of polished stone, local potted plants, and a small pool. Some furniture allowed for seats and shade, with a few chimera already resting on the patio seats. To the right was a big grill, slowly sizzling cuts of prime meat, overseen by a large, well-built male, something closest to a wolf, most like.

On one of the seats was a coyote, a female with stud turquoise earrings and casual clothing. Her hair was short and curled with a few streaks of platinum white, carrying those same dazzling blue eyes. No doubt it was Caspia.

She was talking to a human, much to Anson's surprise. An older woman with short red hair, hands tossing as if releasing an assault of gossip.

Upon their approach, the wolf looked and instantly brightened. He closed the grill and with animated delight rushed over to Anson and Ozzie.

“Hey, hey! There they are! I had a feeling it was you two who showed up!"

He reached out to shake. Anson was able to get a closer look, and realized, this was Saul. Taller, broad shouldered, greyish fur mixed with light patches of ash white, eerie yellow eyes, and delicate indications of muscle behind his tight clothes. The hand he held out carried a small gold band, the final confirmation.

“Saul Kleski! Happy to you meet you. . . Anson?" he said, looking to the human first.

Anson nodded. “That's me." He obliged the gentle hand, but even there, could tell how strong Saul was.

“And. . ." said Saul, looking to Ozzie.

Ozzie did the same as his partner. “Ozzie. Anson's boyfriend."

Saul's tail started to wag. “Well hot damn!" he said, muzzle stretched with a smile. His voice also carried an accent somewhat familiar to Anson, something of a southern twang.

“Good as hell to meet you boys! Jaspy was really excited to invite you out. We got the whole place snazzed up for you. Er, and the other guests too. Oh! Hey!"

Saul shifted to look at Caspia. “Caspy, Caspy! Look! Anson made it!"

She chuckled, as if Saul's introduction wasn't needed, offering a wave. She appeared more engaged with her current conversation.

To be fair, though, Anson didn't know her too well. Only the times Jasper mentioned his family years ago, and a few odd others where she came with family to pick him up from private. Beyond that, she was in her own charter, another world Anson was completely unfamiliar with.

Saul waived her off. “Ah she's too busy gabbing. I'm sure she'll get around to you and tell you all about herself soon enough, hah."

“It's okay," said Anson. In truth, he wasn't sure how much she really knew.

Ozzie huffed. “You know I hate to badger, but uh, your man mentioned you had drinks? Feelin' a bit dry behind the teeth."

Saul was at alert. “Oh! Woops! Hell yeah we do. Sorry! I got food goin that's getting close to ready but got a load of drinks in the cooler. Anything you want. Plenty in the basement too!"

The wolf pointed to an unassuming tub of ice and drinks, which Ozzie obliged himself a beer. “Want one babe?" he said to Anson.

The human shrugged. Couldn't hurt. He was probably going to need it. “Might as well, sure."

“You can always run in the pool. Was a bitch of a thing to get approved so might as well use it!" said Saul.

Anson did his best to loosen up, but found it hard. “Not a bad idea."

It was so idyllic. Beyond the backyard stretched a landscape of canyon and desert. Though hot, it offered a loving vista that emphasized freedom, space, solidarity. And the backyard? Picturesque. The ideal husband managing tasty food with a pool and guests. In a lot of ways, Anson saw a vision of himself, saw the world he wanted when he was younger. Saw the world, he imagined at the time, to spend with Jasper.

But then Ozzie came back to him, giving him a cold can of beer. And then a smile, and then his company. Right at his side. The gravity and warmth of the yeendog's presence grounded him, brought him back to things more important.

This was a twilight of one life, Anson started to realize. Here he had to say his peace, and leave it.

“You said Kleski?" Ozzie asked, gulping down his drink.

Saul had returned to the grill, but laughed, rubbing his head. “Oh, yeah, hah. We haven't decided on the last name. Already crazy getting the house, so still back and forth on that."

As if on cue, Jasper reappeared, sliding past the glass door, coming back to Anson and Ozzie.

“Mmkay, got you two set up in the guest bedroom. Ozzie, god, don't hate me, but I don't know if I have the right conditioner for your hair. Happy to rush out and get you some, if you have a brand preference."

The yeendog chuckled, flushing. “No, no man, it's fine. I've got my own."

Jasper was pleased. He went to Saul, hugged him, standing next to the wolf as the male flipped over a few ribs of meat.

Here Anson found his parallel. The nice home, the married old love, the amiable husband, the wonderful state.

This was a life he admittedly wanted. And worse, it was a life he wanted to give Ozzie, but couldn't. At least not yet.

“Hope you boys like Tennessee barbeque. Saul swears up and down by it," said Jasper.

Saul shrugged, tail swishing. “It's the sauce, I swear."

-*-

The afternoon rolled on with conversation and the arrival of yet more guests. Jasper had to play host and was often interrupted to greet the newcomers: the rest of the Robinson family (a trio of humans as it were), the Canyets (a todd and vixen couple), a one Lester Hannet (a tiger, one of Saul's old friends), the Morricks (another couple of mutts), and additional people which Anson couldn't keep track of.

Soon enough the house was consumed with life and talk, Saul rushing around to get more food ready while Jasper made sure everyone was accounted for. Anson took a moment to greet the Robinsons, who he found were as shocked as he to see humans so far out. Ozzie, on the other hand, found it easier to communicate with anyone willing to strike up a conversation; the alcohol and silver jewelry certainly helped.

Eventually the sun began to quiver behind the horizon, afternoon becoming evening, a dazzling sunset of luscious scarlet painting the ever-darkening sky. Music played, and Jasper switched on a few ornament lights – multicolored bulbs adding an enchanting flair to the get-together.

Anson felt himself relax, but only just so. Everything was still so hard to. . . accept. Based on the interactions he saw, it was clear these were friendly neighbors and possibly distant relatives paying a visit. More worlds he would never know; the stranger in a strange land, observing.

At a certain point, Anson put himself near the edge of the backyard fence, looking out at the sky. Despite the lingering sunlight, stars began to freckle the scape of dark blue, the air cooling as heat subsided.

He knew Ozzie was amidst the crowd of people, but decided to let the yeendog enjoy himself. He deserved it – this was his kind of environment.

He wasn't left by himself long, though.

“There you are!"

Jasper.

Before Anson could turn, the coyote was at his side, beaming and bright as ever.

“Thought you ran off! Hah. Sorry Anson! Been trying to get a moment, but you know. So many people came, so crazy. Had to get them all settled in and fed. That friend of Saul's eats like an elephant, I swear. Thought I'd have to rush out and get some extra ribs to cook."

Anson shook his head.

“Oh, it's no problem, I understand. It's a lot of people to get sorted."

And then, he realized. He was alone with Jasper. “Alone" at least in the sense it was the first time they were directly talking. The first time in years.

Jasper sighed, feigning a frown. “Ahh burden of the home owner. Oh, well, but anyway. I won't bore you. How've you been? I mean. . . in general. These past, you know, years."

Years. How did Anson even approach it.

With a small lie, he supposed. “I've been good. Pretty mundane, really. Moved to southern California and work in cybersecurity, that's about it."

They were at a fence, on which Jasper leaned, ears tall.

“Really! Wow. I didn't take you for that. Weren't you looking to study something else?"

Anson gave a sober nod. “Ah, well. I was but, this is practical and it's a growing market."

Jasper chuckled. “Oh lord knows that's the way to go. Honestly why Saul puts up with me, heh."

“What do you mean?"

Jasper clicked his tongue. “Oh, nothing. I was studying out in Chattanooga and it was primarily for journalism. Really had the spark for it. Buuut that ended up becoming an editorial job for the local paper here in White Rock. Not so lavish or adventurous, but it works. Saul, he's the real breadwinner. Bless him, he'll never admit it, but he is."

Anson shifted, challenged by his next question.

“Yeah? He seems nice. Really pleasant guy." It was true, despite Anson not fully wanting to admit it.

“How did you meet?"

Jasper let his gaze wander, like he was searching for the memory.

“Oh a few years ago. Studied in Tennessee, worked at a bar to cover some costs. He was a regular up there, and well, we hit it off really well. One night he just asks me out and that was that. Hopeless romantic Anson, oh god. You would've laughed. He showed up, flowers, candy."

Anson couldn't help but release a genuine chuckle.

“Really?"

Jasper gave an exaggerated grin. “Yes. Yes. It was like. . . oh, you remember those magazines we snatched once?"

Anson scratched his head. “Hmm. You mean the like, the men's magazine for chimera?"

“Mmmm. Mmhm. The ones we were trying to find cute guys in. And we saw that dating advice column? That. That. It was like Saul was taking pages from it. Probably was!"

Now Jasper was laughing, scent of alcohol lingering on his tongue.

“Yeah, but. Too damn sweet. And yeah. Once I finished up college we got some plans and we moved out here."

Anson nodded in approval. “What's he do?"

“Mmm, he was electrician and maintenance. Worked his ass off. He was basically ready to retire once I graduated. Long, back to back shifts, but he did it. Sometimes he helps around the neighborhood, I think he helped one of the Robinson boys install a water heater. Yeah, but he did it. But all that extra money into this hosue."

Anson looked back to see if he could spy the wolf in the crowds, but was unable to.

So. A hard worker, a Tennessee boy, sweet, strong, retired at a young age. Well. It was hard to blame Jasper not to be smitten.

“He makes you happy?" Anson asked. A dumb, but honest question.

Perhaps Jasper sensed the intent, ears flicking. “He does."

Steering the subject away, Jasper moved on.

“This Ozzie though. He's a handsome thing, Anson! Where in the world did you find him?"

Anson rubbed his head. Their story, he figured, wasn't so saccharine and rose tinted. Certainly not the majestic adventure Jasper had been on.

“Coworkers, actually. He works in sales. We knew each other for a while but, I dunno. Guess I started having feelings for him. Guess he did the same for me. We hooked up and, like you say, that was that. Been dating the past month or so."

Jasper offered a kind, genuine smile. “I'm really happy to hear that. He loves you a lot, Anson. You know chimera do things when they're like that, overjoyed. Ears are up, posture straightens, they keep real close, often as possible. I'm glad for you."

“Yeah," said Anson.

He looked out at the sky again. His insides churned. Well, it was now or never.

“He doesn't know, though."

Jasper's smile faded. “About what?"

Anson looked at Jasper. There, he saw the face from so many years ago, the eyes filled with confusion, perhaps even fright.

“You know. What happened with Lanner. He doesn't know."

Jasper didn't respond. His paw-hands came together, fingers fidgeting, tail sagging. A pregnant silence followed, only filled by the hum of voices and music.

“You can tell him," Jasper finally said, voice soft. No longer bright, however. Weighted. “It won't matter to him."

“Maybe not."

Anson sighed.

“Jasper. . . why did you ask me out here, really?"

The coyote's features narrowed. “What do you mean? I wanted you out here, Anson. I just wanted to see you again."

Here, a tiny spark of anger from the coyote. “Why? You. . . you think I have some ulterior motive?"

Anson leaned over the fence, gaze distant. He could feel the heat of Jasper's stare.

“I don't know. Would you have invited me if you know about Ozzie?"

Jasper was taken aback, nonplussed. “I. . . excuse me? Of course I would have. God, Anson, what are you on about? You have something you need to say?"

“It's been years, Jasper. I think I've needed to say things for a while now."

Jasper frowned, looking around him, seeking answers. “I, ach, yes. Okay. I am sorry about that Anson, I really am. But, things happened and it was just too hard to keep in touch. I had to move forward."

Move forward. He did, so why can't I?

Jasper raised his arms. “I am not going to get into something with you, Anson. I'm very happy you're here. So if you need to tell me something, tell me now."

Suppose, for all the time he had thought on the question, for all the time he clung to the past, the actual question seemed so tiny and petty now. Anson mulled it over and over, realizing, perhaps, his world was much smaller than he thought.

He sighed. “Did you ever think about us, Jasper? If things didn't happen the way they did. If I. . . if Lanner. . . do you think we'd still be together?"

The inquiry which had haunted him for years. A fragment of a phantom past, given to a ghost of a love.

Jasper looked over Anson, studying him. He went closer, shoulder to shoulder, gazing out at the same sky.

Sadly, the coyote shook his head. “I don't have that answer, Anson. I'm sorry. I'll never have it."

Jasper took a long, pained breath. “And. . . I did. For a little while. But, I had to move on. I had to let go of that. What you did was scary, Anson."

At once, Anson felt a rise of anger. “Jasper. Jasper, he was going to. . ."

Jasper didn't let him finish. “Shhh, I know. I know, Anson. And I don't blame you, at all. It was just scary, because you could've gotten hurt. Or worse."

The coyote sniffed a bit. “So when that happened, a part of me knew it was over. Even if you hadn't hit him, Anson, we just. . . wrong place, wrong time. So, after I moved. No. After I moved, I couldn't think about us anymore."

The words swirled around Anson like the New Mexico heat. Realizations, from the one he loved long ago. It was over. For all the weight Anson carried, all the years he wondered, now, it was so empty. Strangely, though, it didn't hurt like he thought it might. He was just numb.

“I guess I should have too," Anson finally said.

There came a new sensation. Jasper's hand mixed with his own, briefly. Clenching and comforting. For one more moment, one more brief second of time, he was back at the lake, the hill, the tree.

“I wish you had," said Jasper. “I didn't know."

After another moment, the coyote continued. “But, Anson. No matter what, I will always care about you. I'll always love you, you know that. You're my friend, even if, heh, we haven't really seen each other for a while."

If anything, it was all Anson could've hoped for. This was it. Jasper, to some degree was in his life, if only a shadow of what it once was.

So he answered, with words he had said once before, but with meaning anew: “Thanks Jasper. I love you too."

For a while, they talked a bit more, exploring the gentle nuance of how things had gone so many years ago. But eventually, the sun faded, yielding to night.

“Come on," Jasper would say, pushing offfrom the fence. “I think your boyfriend misses you."

-*-

Anson didn't know how to feel yet, but a part of him was relieved, if not pained as well. But, it vanished once he found his boy, his Ozzie. The yeendog was chatting with a chimera about his hair, but attention shifted once Anson popped back into view.

“Ansy! There you aaaare man. You ran off!"

Anson smiled. “Agh, I'm sorry Oz, had a little catching up to do." He looked to the fox chimera.

“Sorry, can I steal him back for just a sec?"

Smiling, the fox left, leaving Anson back with his mate.

“Just in time," said Ozzie, “I was about to give up my hair secrets."

The human felt something. His heart exploded, and he looked at Ozzie with new eyes, eyes free of labor and weight and pain. It was wonderful. Immediately, he grabbed him by the hand.

“Come with me."

Like a curious puppy, Ozzie smiled, following. “Mwh? Where we goooin'?"

Ravenous. Anson was sick with hunger for his male. Finding the guest room, he pulled the yeendog inside and shut it, locking them away from the world. Immediately, he pressed his lips into Ozzie's muzzle, who yipped, but only from excited joy.

“Nnf! Ansy?"

It didn't take Ozzie long to see the uncompromised, unyielding lust flooding through Anson's gaze. He laughed.

“Oh, g-god, babe, right here? Nnfuck. . ."

Anson embraced his partner, his eyes almost tearing up, kissing again. “I love you so fucking much you beautiful fucking bastard."

The human let his hand shove into Ozzie's crotch, play and stroke at the satin flesh, while the yeendog whimpered.

That was that.

They became a sprawl of moans and motions soon after. Ozzie yanked down his pants just so, exposing the soft perk of his rump, tail raised, leaning over bed. Anson held him close, hungrily, possessively, kissing his neck, his shaft twitching, crown searching.

Desperate, voracious humps followed, hips thrusting into the aching satin pucker, Ozzie biting his maw to keep moans stifled as Anson fucked him dearly.

Perhaps it was the alcohol or the food or the New Mexico heat, but they were hungry. Hands played, searched. Lips touched, tongues dance, frames trembled. Anson needed Ozzie more than he ever had in his life, and Ozzie was happy to give himself up for hm.

Like a surge, they peaked, trails of white splattering against the guestroom bed while Ozzie felt his hole deluged with masculine issue.

Panting. Fading. Holding.

“Holy fuck," Ozzie would say between breaths. “Baby, Ansy, what was that man?"

Anson chuckled, holding the yeendog close. “You."

-*-

They did their best to clean up and pretend like nothing happened, though it proved difficult. In fact, Ozzie was sure most of the chimera could smell their actions, but, considering the primal nature of chimera genetics, probably didn't care.

Soon, night waned past midnight and many of the guests started to leave. Some, like the Robinsons, remained to help Jasper and Saul clean, but the house was empty as quickly as it had been filled.

With knowing smiles, Anson and Ozzie said goodnight, retiring to their guest room. They decidedly removed the messy sheets, curling together for sleep.

Before they did, however, Anson had one last thing to settle. He held Ozzie close, and explained what happened between he and Jasper years ago, what he had done to the Hask child, and why it haunted him for so many years.

Ozzie listened intently, resting at Anson's neck.

He didn't say anything for a while, thinking.

Then, after a while. “Hmmm. Shit, babe. You know, I woulda used a knife."

Anson shifted. “Holy shit, Oz."

The yeendog chuckled. “Hey, nobody would hurt my man."

“So. . . if someone tried that with me. . . you would. . .?"

Ozzie yawned a bit, licking his partner. “Hmm? Oh, I'd cut that bitch up. No touching."

A strange mirth of pride bloomed inside Anson. And relief. He didn't seem to mind – or care – about Anson's past. So long as he was honest.

No, Ozzie was nothing like Jasper. Wild, energetic, feisty. Protector and companion. So, Anson owed him to be the same thing.

Sleep was almost upon Anson, but before it came, a new thought: If I hadn't done what I had done, I'd have never met Ozzie.

And that was a world he didn't want to know.