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June 3rd

Radio KSST is based in a single-story square building with a faded red brick facia. It's got a big neon sign on the roof, but other than that, it looks like any downtown community centre or public building in a poor or rural neighbourhood. Paul pulls up outside and parks neatly between a beaten-up van with the radio's logo, and a station wagon.

While we drove down, he refused to answer any of my questions, and I couldn't help becoming more and more annoyed with him, which I know he knows. He did concede that it was sweet that I came out to mom. He even bought me a coffee and said I could have the day off, but it doesn't sound like he's figured out the connection I intended for him to make, and it doesn't feel like he's going to do anything like that himself.

He says he's taken care of a lot of things; he says he's got it all under control, and he says he doesn't want me to pep talk him before the interview, because he's got something prepared. I still feel meek and emotionally exhausted from yesterday, and I don't want to talk more about this interview anyways, in case he gets more worked up. I'll let him talk and hope for the best outcome. Then I'll deal with the fallout later.

Once we get inside, Paul is ushered towards the studio away from me, constantly coached by a small weasel lady half-running beside him. Everything happens so fast that I can't process it, and suddenly, I'm in a small room with a couch and television, which I'm guessing is the green room. On the screen, there is a camera feed from inside the studio with sound. The rest of the building is completely radio silent. I can't even get a phone signal in here. There's a Wi-Fi, but there's nobody around to ask for the password. So, I put my phone back in my pocket, focus on the white wolf on the television screen and try to keep my expectations grounded.

"Aaaand welcome back, those were our sponsors, please check them out. It's a wonderful day here in Safewell springs, you're listening to KSST, Kenwood, Safewell Springs and Transacota Talk radio. We hope you're all having a great day, if you're going to work, coming from work, or just relaxing and doing your own thing. Hopefully, you have a better time at work than my next guest had. That's right, folks, I'm joined in the studio by local racing hero Paul Courage. I think we can all agree, you've had some bad few weeks lately. Isn't that right, Mr. Courage?"

The radio announcer rattles it off as if it was a single sentence. You don't usually notice just how seamless live banter is, but it's hard to keep up with when I'm so intently focused on every single word he says. To my surprise, Paul can almost mirror this radio patter perfectly.

"That's true, Trev, I've had better days." He laughs casually, not enough to upset the flow of the conversation, but enough to suggest to the audience that he's completely at peace. "I've just gotten out of my cast and I'm now ready to race again. It's been tough, let me tell ya'."

"That's good to hear, Paul, that's great, and how has the team been doing without you?"

"What team?" Paul responds calmly, making the host jump slightly.

"Eh, I was given to understand you race for Whyllis Racing, is that not so?" The poor radio host stumbles out of the gate but carries on at the same pace as before.

"I would love to tell you that that was the case. It is unfortunately not. Vincent Whyllis altered the terms of my contract while I was in hospital with broken ribs and a broken leg. Then, as I got out of the hospital, he fired me. That's the price of failure at Whyllis racing."

There's a second of hesitation from the host. He looks to his producer, who shrugs.

"They fired you?"

"They sure did Trev. I was not able to move, I had three broken ribs and a massive cast on my leg! Can you believe that they would do that to their oldest, most experienced driver? I was winning races for them up until my accident."

"I am astonished. I'd love to hear what Whyllis would have to say for himself."

"Oh, I'm sure I know exactly what Whyllis have to say for himself, Trev," Paul smiles at the host, who looks uncertainly between him and the producer lady. Before they can decide whether or not this could get litigious, Paul continues. "I'm betting they'll say anything to discredit me now, so keep an eye on the papers. Hopefully, the good listeners of KSST will understand what dishonest businessmen I believe Vincent Whyllis, and his son Walter Whyllis are."

Oh god. He's got a flow going, and I almost can't contain myself. I don't care if I have to answer a million angry conservative emails, say it, Paul, say it. You've got them reeling and the floor is yours, maestro. Perform.

"Holy moly, Paul," Trev says in that tone he probably uses with batshit callers who complain that the earth is flat or something. "You sound like you've got some scores to settle with the old boss."

"He took my job, Trev. He's just the kind of guy America despises. I work hard, I do well in my job. I was the victim of an accident, and suddenly I'm worthless to him? How can he justify that?"

Paul's grievances run deep, and he's going to be heard, because his story is real. There is probably a lot of people listening who've been fired for getting in an accident. He's causing such a stir that it might even make the news. I can't help but think that there are also people who struggle with who they are and who they love, who need someone they can look up to. Paul could do something big here. He could just be true to himself. Or he could be himself.

Through the stunned silence, there's a faint whisper behind the mic, an urgent voice directed at Paul. I can see Trev leaning over his mixing table, making gestures to Paul.

"I'm sorry Trev, that was a bit harsh, you're right," Paul concedes after a few seconds, "but I stand by my words. My father came over from Australia when I was just a cub. He had a business, and he ran that business well. He never cheated anyone and paid his taxes fair and square. Many of your listeners probably have Courage Performance products in their cars, and know what sort of solid, honest businessman I'm talking about. I wanted to follow in his footsteps, and work my way to the top, The American dream, you know, but then in comes this dishonest, scheming, profiteering-"

He's suddenly cut off. I can see his muzzle moving, but the light on his mic is off, and the producer lady is frantically pointing and talking to her subordinates.

"Paul, I'm afraid that's all we have time for," Trev suddenly says, loud and clear. "Thank you so much for joining us. I'm sure Mr. Whyllis won't, but we appreciate your company!"

Trev's uneasy laugh comes across again. Soon enough, bland rock starts up over the speakers in the little room. I'm pretty sure he wasn't ever going to do it. I knew that from the start. But man, he keeps getting all these amazing chances, chances which I'd have jumped on if I were him, and he keeps letting them slip between his fingers. What is he doing, stalling like this? He knows damn well I'm not about to forget about it.

When he gets back, I can see him smile. I don't understand why, the Whyllis family will go apeshit for that. Does this mean he's already come out? They are not going to let something like that slip, I'm sure. We'll be lucky if they only sue us. What if Walt isn't generous enough to simply out him? Am I going to have to check the bushes outside our apartment for angry wolves with baseball bats?

"See, this is why I want you to explain shit to me, Paul," I say before he can open his muzzle. "You just got us in a heap of trouble, and you couldn't even-"

"I'll explain in the car," he says shortly. Then he claps a paw to his thigh, like I was meant to come heel. The fucking cheek of him. I growl slightly, under my breath. I'm still annoyed with him, but curiosity gets the better of me. I remind myself what I've told myself. Let him talk and deal with the fallout later. I'll let him explain himself. His life, not mine. Unless we're talking about my job, which is going to be more stimulating now that he's made such a spectacle. There's going to be a spike in difficult emails which he doesn't have to think about.

I can barely close the door behind me before Paul starts up. His enthusiasm is measured at first, but he's getting more and more excited.

"It was my lawyer's idea," he tells me, "Well, not the radio thing, that was just for me. But listen to this Reece..." His tail is tapping against the footwell behind his seat, his fingers are drumming the steering wheel while he's driving, and he nods along with the music. He's tuned to KSST but turns it down when he begins to talk. "I brought all the offers you printed out, but in among them, we discovered my old contract. My lawyer noticed something strange about it. Turns out that contract has some issues, to say the least. They've been underpaying me, misinforming about my rights, and the way they broke the contract was a breach of the law! We threatened with a lawsuit."

"But, Paul, I-"

"Don't worry, my lawyer fixed it all. They agreed to pay a pretty fucking big sum for this to go away. That old crook is too concerned with his image by half. I let them get away on two conditions."

"Uh," I hesitate, barely overcoming my confusion and annoyance, "and... those conditions were?"

"One, that if they so much as utter my name in an attempt to slander, smear, or otherwise publicly affect my image, they will be slapped so hard with they'll be bankrupt before you know it, and two. They or any other affiliates stay at least 6000 miles away from me at any time."

"6000 miles?" I exclaim. "That's bull, there's no way anyone can enforce that."

"I was kinda' joking about that. The agreement actually entails that they won't do any business or have any racing teams in Australia."

"Australia?"

"Which is where I'm going to be racing next season!"

Stunned, I sit in silence for a long time.

"So, you already accepted a contract without telling me? You went through all that without telling me? Your manager. Me... Your... you-"

"I'm telling you now, aren't I?" He says, placing a paw on my thigh. "Surprise, sweetie."

My ears droop a little. I feel my tail droop too. My body sinks just a bit further into the seat, and I let him rest his paw there.

That night Paul can't stop his tail from wagging. He's browsing houses in Australia, and those houses have large price tags. But he doesn't care. He has a seven-digit bank account. How nice it must feel.

I don't care about the money, that much. It'd be a lie if I said I didn't care at all. Who doesn't these days? I'm happy for him, I'm happy for us. I won't be a burden on him. But damn, if he isn't starting to become a burden on me. I expected more. I expected him to not find a way to weasel out of this opportunity too. He's had more chances to make this right than I care to mention. I left him to his own devices and thought he knew what was needed to keep me in his life, but he did something completely different. Something I hadn't thought of. Something that allowed him to avoid coming out, kicked his old boss in the shins and still won him a huge sum of money. He's got a guarantee that his former rival won't come back to kick his ass or spread his secrets. He knows I'm not going anywhere, and he knows I'm reluctant and hesitant to push him to do something he doesn't want, especially when it's this big. He's won.

So here I am, feeling miserable. Like I'm a bad boyfriend for not just accepting the situation and supporting him. Why should he even risk it, right? We can celebrate thanksgiving apart, and Christmases alone. I can lie and say I'm single to my extended family, and he can lie and tell his dad he's not found the right girl yet. I can see him on weekends so long as the media doesn't know, and on television, occasionally, where I'll see him having an arm around a pit girl or some fan and try not to think that it could've been me. I can let him race and do whatever he wants to do, and what keeps the money coming in. I can hide away and be his private little fuck-toy, and he can go out and be seen by all the world as the guy who worked his way to the top all on his own. Hopefully he'll be out a lot, so that he doesn't see my tears, because he doesn't like the thought of me crying or being miserable. I'm not paying attention to his stupid house hunt. I've had enough. I have one requirement for this relationship to work. One. And he's constantly been avoiding it even after I've done everything I could.

"What are you thinking about, Spot?" he asks, completely deaf to my simmering, building frustration. "You don't like Hunter Valley? Perhaps you're more of a Harbour kinda' guy, eh? Or what about a penthouse?"

"I don't give a fuck about your god damn house, Paul," I snap. "I want to know what you're going to do next."

"Next?" he asks, his ears splayed. "What do you mean? we're going to Australia."

"Oh, for crying out loud, Paul," I almost shout at him, my patience bursting. "When _are_you going to tell people?"

"What do you mean? I solved it; I can just focus on my racing!"

"You solved everything else, and Paul, That's great! I'm happy for you. I just wanted you to- "

"You just wish it was your doing. You wanted to be the one who made me come out?"

"Okay, ouch," I say, frowning.

"Don't be coy, it was totally all over your face in the car," he says. "You wanted to change me. You've wanted that since we met, and I can't understand why. I honestly can't. I fell in love with you for who you were. I thought you did too."

"I didn't want to change you, Paul. I wanted you to admit who you are to others."

"And that's not changing? The few people I have left in my life... You're trying to get me to risk losing them?"

"That's unfair, Paul-"

"No, actually, I'll tell you what's unfair. This. All of this shit. It's burning you out, Reece. You're going way too hard! Let's leave this place. Come with me to Australia, everything will be better there. I swear! I know it will."

I sigh and turn away from him, roll over to the edge of the bed, and sit up.

"Paul, seriously, you're doing it again. You're trying to distract from the real issue here. You're just running away."

"What issue? Your issues?"

"Yes, my issue," I growl, wounded. I'm too annoyed to even cry. "You promised-"

"I didn't promise, I said I was going to consider it. And now I have. Why are you being so stuck up?"

"Stuck up?" I can't believe he said that. "I'm being stuck up? I finally got a boyfriend I'm so devoted to that I'd want to show him to the world? Or just my parents? My friends? I want to go to restaurants, and movies, and I want you to come with, and be happy to share in this relationship we had... have still. I'm in the wrong because I want to tell everybody how much I love you, and how proud I am? Is that so much to ask?"

"Yeah. It is much to ask," he sighs. "Reece, I love you. But I can't."

"You can't." I sigh, lowering my shoulder. "No, I guess you can't."

I get up from the bed and start pulling my pants and sweater on. I'm not interested in another excuse.

"Hey, Reece, wait up," Paul calls to me, but he doesn't shift from underneath his laptop. "Listen, Reece... Hey, don't... you said you wouldn't leave-"

"I just want some fresh air," I tell him. "While I'm out, think a bit about what we have together, okay? What am I to you, really?"

"I'm giving you all this!" he waves at his screen. "I'm prepared to spend millions so that we can have a life together, what the hell are you talking about!"

"That's not a life, Paul. I don't want a life in hiding, with you or without you. I thought I made that clear when we got together. I came out to my parents, not because it's a law for gay people to come out, but because I finally had a boyfriend who I was proud of. Someone I wanted to show to everyone and say 'hey, see how lucky I am'. I'm not going to leave everyone I care about behind, if that's all I get in return. Living alone and secluded in a big-ass house with nobody around but the fucking garden flamingos."

I pant. This talk feels more like a battle with my own emotions. I can't not say what I need to say anymore. If he doesn't listen now, he never will.

"You don't want to come with me?" Paul says, his voice breaking into a pathetic, sad whine.

"Paul, listen to me, for the love of god." My voice feels raw. I'm pleading with him to understand. "Think about what you have and think about what you're willing to do to keep it. I'll go wherever you want me to, Paul, but I need to know that it'll be a good place for me, that I'm not going to regret coming with you. Think about that, Paul. Think about what your boyfriend feels that would make him say these things. I can't take much more of this, I need some air."

With that, I manage to step across that threshold and outside, for what I really hope won't be the last time. But my throat feels raw, my heart is pounding as if I've just done something more. More than just a fight.

Going way too hard, what the hell is that, anyways? Who'd take care of him if I wasn't there? I'm surprised he's even managed to feed himself. I had to learn all that shit for myself, while being closeted and trying to get a degree. I had to work out how to come out to my dad, to my mom, heck, even to Aiden way back when, all on my own. It was a pain, let me tell you, and I don't want him to suffer through that. I want to help him, but... but I've gone way above and beyond what was expected.

My feet carry me limply from bland street to bland street in this high end neighbourhood. Is this really what I wanted? I have to admit to myself that I brought this on myself, and I'm not sure I don't deserve being yelled at a little myself. I deliberately chose to chase that wolf. I could've stopped it way before it grew this serious, and I'd still have a degree. I'd still be just Reece in my parent's eyes. I might find some cute guy with an accepting family to settle down with after chasing some more tails. Someone who didn't push back, buck and fight me at every turn like Paul does. Someone who would be more stable. More boring. Why, oh why did I fall for that mercurial, overgrown teenager.

Because I saw something in him. I saw great potential. I never expected him to buck when I tried to help him reach his potential. But one's potential is not a straight path, or a linear curve. It's a three dimensional, multi spoke wheel, in the centre of which is that wolf. He can go so many directions, and reach so many kinds of heights. I tried to push him, and it was because I was too preoccupied with "us". I didn't see the bigger picture. He didn't need that in his life, because he lacked what I had. He lacked that solid, safe jumping off point. I might just have pushed him away from me with every desperate effort to get closer to him. With every dumb, egotistical tear I shed for our relationship. Overwhelmed, those tears return. But it is for myself, for what I might have wasted that I cry. For the bridges I might have burned by saying and doing what I said and did. And now I've managed to get myself lost in this damn neighbourhood, too. Fuck.

Paul. June 3rd

Reece slams the door behind him, and all the warmth that was once beside me, snuggling up next to me, disappears. I'm left with the gentle heat of the laptop over my thighs, my bare legs sticking out from behind the screen, and his words ringing in my ears. I haven't felt this alone in a long time, and it brings back memories of when I was a kid sitting in my room all day while dad was at work, hoping it wasn't overtime. Hoping he'd bring mom back with him when he came home late at night. Knowing that I was bound to be wrong this time as well.

For some reason I thought he'd be excited. I had been cooking up this plan for a long time with my lawyer. I was going to spoil him rotten, like he'd never been spoiled before. I was going to get him everything he wanted. his own car, and his own place where he could do whatever he wanted. Stereo and home cinema, game consoles, books, a massive, cosy sofa to cuddle in. A huge kitchen where we could make dinner together. Everything. Except I wasn't giving him everything. Not like he gave everything for me. He failed school because he was too occupied trying to care for me, trying to get me off my arse and find the path which would be the right one for our relationship. He gave up four years of his life to save a relationship he's only been in for a few months. He risked everything just to show me that coming out could feel good. That it would be alright. I spent so much energy resisting him on plain principle that I failed to see how stupid the premise was. Deep inside, I think I always knew he wouldn't be entirely satisfied. He'd not get the boyfriend he deserves. He'd get a glorified prison warden.

I wonder if dad thought that the money would be enough when he disappeared off to work every morning and paid for everything I needed to make it big. I could never really get what I wanted from him, and Reece never got what he really wanted from me, even though he gave everything of himself. He never cared about the money or the fame, or the success I had on track. That was all me. It wasn't Paul the Racing driver he wanted when he asked if I was going to get out of Whyllis Racing. It wasn't Paul the Celebrity he hoped for when he wanted me to come out on the radio. It wasn't that wolf Reece fell in love with, it was the other wolf. The one I've always been ashamed of and tried to hide. He didn't even force me. I just never gave it a shot. How could I even hold him to his word, and ask him not to leave me, when I've been pushing him away like this. I'm not sure I even deserve him; I feel so miserable.

I close the laptop and put it away, lay back and stare at my roof, like I've done so many times before. The light of a streetlamp outside shine through the foliage of a tree in my front yard, casting a dappled dark and light pattern on the roof of my bedroom. He'll be back. Where would he go? He must come back; all his things are here. Of course, he'll be back. I know he will, because I would.

An hour passes, then another. The pattern isn't going anywhere. The night grows even darker, and presumably colder. I can't wait here for him. I have to go out there and find him. He's all alone. I can't wait for this to sort itself out. I have to be the other Paul. The Paul who I really am. I shouldn't try to act as if my wealth could fix anything. I shouldn't try to find a clever solution to things that require me to make a difficult choice. Already made that mistake once, and I suffered for it. If I make that mistake again, I'll suffer far more than a few broken bones.

Regret bubbles up in my throat and forces tears out. All he wanted was to express his pride in me. The pride which I've basked in the glow of, in private. I took advantage of him when I was in pain. I never realised how much pain he was in, how close to the edge he was. We were. I just hope I didn't push him away for good.

Panic suddenly sets in, and fear follows. What if he leaves? What if he just gets on a bus, or in a cab and takes off. Turns off his phone and leaves all his stuff behind? What did he mean about not being able to go on? I can't even begin to imagine myself without him, not now. Not after all we've been through. Not when I'm standing on the threshold of a new life, representing something I always wanted. I have to reconcile that with all that he wanted, because if I can't, I'll only have the life Paul the Racing Driver wanted, a hollow existence of fame and money but without meaning. I need to find him before he goes and makes up his mind whether he can live without me or not.

I run outside. I only just managed to get my shoes on, along with a morning gown, but not much more than that. The neighbourhood is silent and desolate. At this time of night, it feels almost abandoned. There's no spotty dog here, and I can't smell him clearly. His scent has blown around a lot. I don't know where he might have ended up, he can get really far sometimes. I try to text him, then I try to call, but there's no response. I know he likes just walking around with music on his iPod, so I don't think I can call out to him, and I don't particularly want the entire neighbourhood to know.

Jesus Christ, Paul, what the hell kind of worry is that. God damn, listening to myself, I can see how difficult it must have been for him to try to convince me. I'm a fucking coward. Perhaps, one day, I won't feel so pathetically afraid of what others think. There's only one way to make sure I get better, and that is to challenge myself. It's my damn job, for crying out loud, I can't afford to be afraid, or I'll go too slow, miss my chances, and lose the race.

I swallow hard and try to prevent my breathing from turning into whimpers, but it's futile.

"Reece?" I call out, at an indoor volume at first. But it feels liberating to call his name, even if I'm afraid. The sense of how right it feels overpowers my fear.

"Reece!" I call it out again as if in triumph, because I dared to. I call his name again, and again. But there's no reply. Running from street to street, I move further away from my house, deeper into parts of the suburb I haven't been to. Calling his name hasn't worked yet, but that doesn't stop me. Pressure builds in my throat. Emotion pours into it, and before I know what I'm doing, I'm howling. A long, pure tone, undulating and decreasing in pitch as it cuts through the night air. I don't care about my neighbours. I don't care about the quiet reputation of this damn neighbourhood. I need him, I only care about him, and all the sadness I feel at his absence is poured into that howl. Even with music on his headset, if he's here, he can't have failed to hear it. In the absolute silence that follows, I hear the faintest sound. The crunching of a shoe on a slightly dusty sidewalk. My ears snap around to where the sound came from, and I head towards it as quickly as I can.

In a clearing, down a dead-end street at the other end of the neighbourhood, where the road ends and a big black forest begins, I see a figure walking by itself away from me. It's him!

"Reece!" I call out, and he stops walking, but remains with his back to me. When my scent reaches him, tainted by fear and sadness, he turns. He looks cold in his thin sweater and chino pants, and not just because he's shivering.

He has the smell of tears on him, that salty, melancholic smell. They're my fault. I've made him cry. The only one I ever cared about, and I've made him cry like how I used to cry after I lost mom, and I was all alone myself. He looks around but there's only us. I can tell that he'd rather be left alone, but he stays. This is it, Paul. You need to prove that you're worthy of him.

"Reece, please come home... let's talk, okay?"

I want him to know that it is his home, he can have a home with me. He's safe with me, I won't leave him. But it wasn't safety he wanted from me. I stop a few feet away from him, as if he's a wounded wild animal. I don't want him to run away, I want him to come to me so that I can help him.

"Paul?" he chokes out, "I s-said I was going for s-some air, there's no need to m-make so much noise."

I sigh heavily, it breaks my heart to see him like this. Trying to act as if he's not in tears. Keeping a lid on his heart for fear that his emotions will annoy me. To hear his frail voice and think about all the pain I've caused him because of my own ego.

"Let's talk, Spot."

"What's there to talk about, wolf? You want to live your life of blissful ignorance. I won't stop you."

There's fire in his voice, but it's shaky.

"I don't intend to stay in the closet forever," I concede. "Okay? Can we go home and talk?"

"When?" he cries out "When can we be together like a real couple? I need to know."

"We are together Reece!" I try to protest but I really shouldn't. I don't deserve to talk back to him. I don't get to pretend it's some discussion. If I can't do this. I've lost, no matter what I say.

"It doesn't feel like it," he cries. "It feels like I'm giving up everything just for you to get further into the closet, and you just keep getting things your way. But what about what I want, Paul? What about all the things we talked about. The dates, the movies, the restaurants. Will we ever reach that point?"

"I said, we can talk about it," I try, hopefully. His voice has calmed a little. "I'm prepared to-"

"You're deflecting again, Paul," he cuts in, his ears flicking forward, confrontationally. "I don't want another talk. There's nothing to talk about. I don't want some fucking agreement or another compromise. I want to hear you say it, because you need to say it."

"Say what?"

"You said you didn't want to come out because of work, and that's not an issue anymore. You said you didn't want to come out because of Walt, and now that's not an issue anymore. You say your dad is the reason you're not coming out but your dad shows you more love now than what even my dad does. I have no idea what you're so fucking scared of, Paul. He worships you, you blind wolf! For god's sake, just tell me the truth. Tell me what it'll take. Give me something." Tears are flying from his face as he barks out the words. I'm stunned. I can't find a single word to say. But Reece isn't done.

"I am proud of being your boyfriend, Paul," he hisses, with a voice hoarse from shouting. I know my ears flick, but I can't even bring myself to worry about what the neighbours might think. I deserve nothing more than to stand there and take it. Paul the Racing Driver is nowhere to be seen. "I am happy to go along with a lot of stuff, but not this. I'm ashamed that I have to hide how much I love you. And you know the worst part? I can't give up on you. I gave up everything else because I'm a damn idiot and a failiure, but I'm not giving up on you. I refuse. You deserve so much better than the cards you were dealt, Paul, and I want to help you get there. I want to do this one thing right. So please work with me here."

He brings his shaking paws up to his muzzle, wiping tears from his eyes. I've damn near ruined him. He's damn near ruined himself. I should've stopped him before it went this far. I should've spoken up, or taken a choice, instead of leading him on for all this time, and then pulling the rug away from under him. I wrench his paws from his eyes and push him into my chest fur, where he starts sobbing for real now, his whole body shaking. I'm sure it looks strange to whoever happens to catch sight of us, but I don't care anymore. It takes too much energy to care this much, and neither I nor he has anything left. I don't care because he loves me, and because he doesn't care who knows it. I don't want to care either. It's a weight inside me which needs to be shed, because it's slowing me down. It's time to take that risk, which I've shied away from for so long.

"Spot. I promise I'll do right by you," I whisper into his ears. "Come with me. I'm ready... to really talk. I promise. But you gotta talk to me too. You're going to burn out if you run your engine this hot, dear. You're not approaching this in a healthy way."

"Alright," he sniffles. "Alright, I'm calm.... I'm calm."

I trust him. How could I not? If he thinks it's the best for me, for us, that we go ahead with this, then I'll take that risk sooner rather than later. Just let me see his smile again, God, please don't take that away from me.

June 6th

Dad's office has changed. He's taken down all the pictures of me in my black and gold race overalls and replaced them with a few pictures of me in civilian clothes instead. They're all from when I was young. I don't know where he's gotten them from, I don't think I've ever seen them before, and I can barely remember being in them. Some of them have a layer of dust on them. I also don't know where he got that large cigar from. I've never seen him smoke before.

We're seated in front of dad's desk as if we're in a police interview. Reece is bothered by the strong smell of the smoke, but he hides it well. I've had tire smoke and fuel fumes in my lungs since forever, so I'm not bothered. And yet, my eyes are watering, my throat feels like it's about to close up, and I find it hard to breathe.

He had still been glowing with pride since that radio interview went live. He smiled when I told him how I'd screwed over Whyllis legally. I told him that I was guaranteed a contract with Sinclair, and he told me Dazza's real name is Daniel, and he was an old friend. I'm going to Bathurst next year, and Dazza tells me I'll have a place with them if I do well. I've started laying plans for the season. Everything was set up, everything was perfect. There really was no better time to tell him. So, after some hesitation, I explained to my dad who I am, who I've always been.

And he kept smiling.

"I knew it was only a matter of time before you'd bring someone over to show them to me," he rumbles after lighting his cigar, leaning back in his office chair with a loud creak. A large cloud of cigar smoke trails from his muzzle. "Didn't know it'd take so fucking long. This thing is almost turned to dust." He pats the cigar, shifting it from the front of his muzzle to the side, as he smiles. "I expected something a bit special, Paul, I really did. You've always been a bit different. I think you've found someone worthy of your name. Too worthy, perhaps."

"Thanks, dad," I manage to squeak out under my fragile voice, my heart still beating frantically. "I guess I should have told you sooner, huh?"

"You sure as fuck should have, you lil' shit," he growls. "About ten years sooner, from what I hear. I would have understood, Paul. What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was just afraid that... you know..."

I feel ashamed. I don't want to tell dad that I had a moment of weakness and fear, but Reece nudges me, and I remember my deal with him. I promised I'd tell my dad everything. He promised me it would be okay. I swallow the lump in my throat and let the words out. The words he finally managed to get out of me, which I'd had buried so deep that they felt like a part of me.

"I-I miss her still," I breathe, tears start welling up behind my eyes, and I lower my muzzle to look at the picture of us on his desk. "I didn't want to lose you... like mom. I was scared, dad. I was scared I'd lose you too."

That makes him sit up, he almost inhales the entire cigar. Coughing violently, his smile dies on his lips. He comes around the desk in a flash, and pulls me off my chair, wrapping me in a tight hug. A hug unlike anything we've shared for over twelve years.

"Your mother loved you," dad growls into my folded ears. "That was all she ever stood for in this world, Paul. She didn't leave you, and I'm sure as fuck not going to, either. I promised her that I'd give you everything you needed. If you think I'd ever. EVER. go against her wishes-"

"Sorry dad," I say, instinctively, parting from the hug. My ears are pinned against my skull, and I feel like they'll never come up again. "I'm sorry. I really am. I'm sorry I didn't tell you how I really felt-"

"Don't you dare be sorry," he growls. "You spoke from in here." He slaps his chest, and makes himself cough some more, "I should be sorry. I couldn't see what you needed most of all. Not until Reece here came around and showed me what it really means to care. I know you a little better now, Paul, you're still a stubborn piece of shit sometimes. But you'll do right by him, damn it, or I'll come around and kick your arse. Because that's what your mother believed in."

I'm still a bit stunned, and my ears feel like they've pulled a muscle. Reece takes my paw and squeeze it. Paul the Racing Driver might have pulled away, but I squeeze back, because I know I need him. I sniffle and sit back down in my chair, not letting go of his paw.

"I could've used someone to talk to, as well," dad says, seating himself back in his chair, and sticks his cigar back in his muzzle, patting at it contemplatively. "I was too damn stupid. Those were difficult times for me too. I didn't have someone like Reece here to help me. Maybe... maybe it's time for some changes. I could stand to get out there, again."

"It's... okay, dad. N-no worries, right?" I mumble cautiously.

He's still got it. Even after all these years, he can still make me cry. But these tears feel good to get out. I feel so dumb for thinking any of what I did before was brave. I look at my dad and the way he fights back his tears, as he accepts who I am and reconciles that with the love he and mom shared. Still share, from the way he's looking at that picture of us. I feel warm inside. We can be a family. I look at Reece, the way he pushed me to come here and have this talk, I realise I know nothing about courage. Sitting here with a lump in my throat, I also realize that that's not a problem. I'm allowed to not be brave all the time. I have to remind myself of that. I know to recognize now when it's time to be Paul the Boyfriend, and when it's time to be Paul the Racing Driver.

Reece has never seen dad like that. I've seen dad angry before, but never in this strange, passionate way. It is unsettling to me and Reece both, but he has this excited smile on his muzzle all the same.

"You're owed a father, Paul," dad says. "Perhaps one day, I'll manage to make it up to you." Dad steps over to Reece, walking straight past me. He extends a paw to my boyfriend and resumes his wide smile. "And you, son. You're in due for a father-in-law. Lord knows you've deserved one, and this time, I'll do it right, from day one. Give paw, boy."

I smile with the sort of delirious relief that comes from surviving a near death experience. I can't wait to find out what it means to have a proper dad. Reece stares at him astonished, shaking back limply.

"uh... Reece... Reece Thomson, s-son in law to be... I guess?"

"Go easy on him, dad, we've been together for a few months-"

"It's okay, Paul," Reece says quickly, and returns the shake a little bit more vigorously. "I think it's sweet!"

"You know, Reece. You lot can get married in Australia too," Dad says with a wink that is just a bit too clumsy. "We're not so backwards as you think. Cubs too, I believe."

"Dad, I-"

"I've heard," Reece cuts in, completely collected and prepared. "Mom would be happy to hear, I'm sure. I did some reading up on adoptions and stuff."

"Sweetie!" I say instinctively, ears flicking but still folded down. But it's okay. I can say that now. The lightness and relief almost distract me from the fact that he's totally talking about cubs with my dad.

"I think you'll like it down under," Dad says, grinning and patting Reece's shoulder. "You know, I want grandcubs. I don't care if they have spots or anything, as long as they've got what matters." He slaps his chest again, without coughing this time. "Strength, Unity, Pack, isn't that right Paul?" He scratches his chin for a moment. "Let's see. Strength. So that we can help those who can't help themselves. Unity. Because sometimes we need help from others who are strong in a different way. Pack. Any one member is as valuable as the others, and everyone must pull the same way."

The kindergarten mantra is embarrassing to hear out loud, but it takes me back to a purer time, when I lent more weight to my words. Now, I see the truth in it.

"Y-you left out a few bits, but that's broadly the gist of it, yeah," I mumble, finally able to splay my ears sideways instead of backwards.

"Well, it's more or less right." Dad shrugs and taps the ash from his cigar.

"I'll make sure they know, Pierce," Reece says, and leans over to kiss my cheek. "I'm sure Paul would appreciate you being there when that time comes."

"Heh," dad smirks. "I could stand to see the old country again, myself. Maybe the time is right to go down and hang around my old haunts. See if there's not a grandmother out there for the young-"

"Oookay, Reece," I intervene, "I think we've established that Dad's a cool guy. I think we should get going before he gets any more ideas. We have a lot of things to do!"

"Oh, don't worry, Pierce," Reece says with a laugh. "When the time comes for cubs, or pups, I'll let you know."

Reece, who was clutching my paw just a moment ago, is laughing alongside my dad about stupid dad things. Reece, who was crying along with me when I dredged up my memories about mom just two days ago. Reece, who held me as I let it all out. Reece, who helped me come to this office and have this talk. Reece who set me free. His laugh is pure, innocent, and full hope, the sort of laugh I can only be grateful for, along with the smile for which I risked it all. And won. I can't help but laugh alongside them, from the wild relief.

But I promised him more than just coming out. I promised him a lot more. And those things no longer feel like an obstacle to be overcome. I've got Dad on my side. I have Reece on my side. I can do this. I want to do this, with him, because of that smile. As we step outside his offices and out onto the shop floor, I lower my shoulders.

"Alright, that went well," I conclude, breathing in the familiar industrial scents of the big, workshop hall, through which we have to go.

I take another deep breath while preparing. Reece grabs my paw. He looks at me, and I look at him. And then we start walking together. He squeezes my paw slightly, swinging it lazily back and forth as he walks next to me, in plain view of dad's many employees. I notice people turn as we walk by. There's a wolf whistle from somewhere, but the guy who whistled smiles and waves. I wave back, as I walk. I don't feel a need to run away, I don't feel afraid at all, even among all these tough, grown guys. I notice that junior engineer who Reece talks about sometimes, clasping his paws to his chest and sighing as we walk past his workstation. Everyone seems to be looking. But then again, I'm Paul Courage. I'm a famous racing driver. I've been the talk of the town for the last three days. I'm their boss' son. All the hidden recesses in my mind where the darkness lurked have been aired out, and my love for Reece has rushed in to fill the gaps.

"Embarrassing, was it?" Reece says after a while of walking, a nervous, but excited giggle disrupting his speech. "I thought he was charming. If you met my mom, she'd be way more insistent, and she'd be dead serious besides."

"You mean when I meet your mom?" I ask, and nod to his phone, which he's pulled out to check the time. "Where are they at, now?"

"They landed an hour ago." Reece pads outside to where my car is parked. "Thanks again for flying them up here on such short notice."

"Well, yeah. I've got some spare change, and we'll need most of the next week just to pack all your dresses and shoes. You absolute fashion victim you."

"You're the victim here," Reece snickers, and gets into the passenger seat, "once you see my Christmas wish list. Where to, driver?"

"Remember that restaurant where it all started?" I ask, offering my paw to him. "We're not going there. That's our spot. We're going to a proper one."

"With waiters and wine and white tablecloths?"

"One of those," I say and kiss his forehead. I tap out a quick message on my phone. "I'm sending your parents the address now. Shall we take the slow route, or the fast route?"

"The fast one!" He buckles up and prepares for one of my spirited drives, which he doesn't want to admit that he likes. "We have to show up before them and select the right wine to pair with our announcement."

"Well... By taxi," I say, checking my watch, "they're probably twenty minutes or so away from the place. We're forty minutes away, at least."

Reece wags his tail and squeezes my paw. "Show me why they call you the number one underrated racing driver."

"But what if I'm caught?" I ask, sticking my tongue out playfully. "What if they deport me?"

Reece laughs. I know he trusts me. I kiss him and turn over the engine. My car barks into life, and we pull out of dad's parking lot. I'm not going to leave black lines on the tarmac here, while my dad's watching us from his office. But I push my foot down once we get onto the highway, and Reece giggles with delight as the car pushes far north of the speed limit. Forty minutes? We arrive after seventeen minutes and thirty-two seconds, brakes smoking and exhaust glowing red hot. Averaging 135 mph is nothing. I can make this car go around Laguna Seca in under 1:40. I'll always be a racing driver at heart. I never changed really. I was merely completed; all the ingredients were already there. Because I'm still Paul Fucking Courage. I'm still young. I'm still a god damn excellent racing driver. I'm still from Australia. I'm still gay. I'm still intent on climbing that ladder all the way to the top.