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The Tex-Mex place on the other side of town always boasted busy evenings and this Thursday was no exception. Alex was glad he'd had the forethought to make reservations, because the line for a table had exceeded the capacity of the small lobby about fifteen minutes ago and probably none of the hungry would-be patrons would be eating for another ninety minutes, at least. Even he and his date had needed to wait a few minutes. Usually groups of two are easy to fit in, but tonight the estimated time for the smallest of groups was an hour.

Alex did not find the food here all that amazing—not to say it was in any way bad, but this just was not his style. (He was more the Mediterranean type, not that it was anywhere to be found in this dinky town.) But it was the style of seemingly half the county, as it boasted five similar restaurants and not much of anything else beyond the typical backwoods fast food offerings. Theirs was not exactly a hamlet either, although it did not quite qualify as a real suburban town.

But tonight was not about him but about the astonishing and gorgeous man sitting across the table from him.

“So, happy birthday!" Alex half-shouted over the din. “I hope the crowd isn't too much of a problem." He had foolishly hoped for a quieter meal, but this was Jack's favorite place so this is what won. Jack looked a little uncomfortable, like he wanted to hide from the noise somehow. Alex really hoped this had not been a mistake. Jack was far from an introvert, but loud noises got to him more than most. He said he had sensitive ears.

“They've got alcohol, decent music, and the enchiladas are to die for." Jack reached across the table and stilled Alex's fretting hand. “I love it."

Oh, right, there was music. He had not been able to hear any of it over the commotion. Jack was probably being polite. Alex flashed a coy smile. “I hope that's not the only thing you love."

Jack smacked Alex's hand. “Oh, don't even try that." His words were sharp, but there was a twinkle in his eye. “I wouldn't want to spend this day with anybody else."

His assurance calmed Alex's nerves, a little. Why he was so uneasy tonight, he could not quite say. Sure, there were rumblings at work of his and his coworkers' jobs not being around much longer as the company looked overseas for cheaper labor, but those had come and gone before with nothing to show. They always stayed here instead, for whatever reason and to no one's disappointment.

That did not matter tonight. He was here to celebrate his boyfriend's 26th birthday. And then they would…

“Hey, Alex? Food's here." The arrival of their food marked a welcome reprieve from his wandering thoughts, as Jack led conversation for a while. He had always been good at diverting bad trains of thought, one of the many, many things he liked about this man.

And of course, it helped that he was cute.

Jack yawned and slipped out of his shirt, showing off the hairy, muscular chest Alex liked so much. “It was a great evening," he said as he leaned down for a kiss. “Thank you so much."

Alex kissed him, tasting the last vestiges of the mojito he had enjoyed at dinner, and then rubbed against his chest before yawning and stretching out on top of the bed, already down to his underwear. Jack's movements were slower than normal tonight, but he knew how to handle his alcohol and was more or less sober. To be on the safe side of the law, Alex had been the one to drive them both, but that was probably an unnecessary precaution.

“Time to start thinking about next year," Alex said, stifling another yawn. “How does Indian sound?"

Jack pulled out of his pants. Oh, he was not wearing any underwear tonight. Very, very nice. “Indian?" He faced Alex, scratching his beard. “Where's the nearest one?"

Alex shrugged and got up, then folded back the sheets so he could join Jack here tonight. His own bed waited for him in the other bedroom, but it rarely saw any use. Tonight would be no exception. Sliding under the covers, he closed his eyes as Jack turned off the light and he felt his boyfriend's body slide in next to his.

“There's two about an hour from here, think I told you about one of them the other day maybe?" He could not remember, but it was nothing terribly important. There was much more that came first. Alex scooted closer and pressed against Jack, felt his warmth against Alex's cooler skin.

“Oh, right! I remember now." Jack shifted so his face tickled Alex's ear. “At least, I think. Maybe." He kissed his ear and nosed it.

“That tickles!"

“I know."

Alex sighed. “You're impossible sometimes."

“And you're so easy to tease most of the time."

Alex wriggled out of his boxers, helped along by Jack once he figured out what Alex was doing, and turned to face him. “Happy birthday, big guy," he said through another yawn. “I love you. Here's to another year."

“Gonna have to think of something extra special for you. But first…"

Oh, yes. Much came before thoughts of what their next outing would be, or even what tomorrow might bring. Tomorrow could worry about its own troubles. Right now, there was not a whole lot of thinking involved, just enjoying each other's presence, finding pleasure in the simple things and each other.

Sometime after, as sleep began to overtake him and Jack's breathing became more rhythmic, Alex reached over. “Love you, big guy." He rested a hand atop his bare chest and froze, then lifted.

Something was wrong.

He touched again.

The warmth in his body fled and an icy sensation overtook him. Something felt very wrong. He was hairy anyway, but this felt like a blanket. “Hey Jack, you okay?"

Jack rumbled beside him, then the sheets rustled and he was asleep again.

“You okay?" Alex asked again.

Jack stirred. “Yeah, why?" The way the light played tricks with the shadows in the room, his silhouette looked odd. It probably was just a blanket, and he was tired and imagining things. He put his hand down and pressed into the pillow. “It's nothing. Don't worry about it."

“Okay. Good night. See you in the morning."

He turned on his side. At that moment, something warm, soft, and very, inhumanly hairy brushed his waist.

“Jack!"

His voice grumbled in the darkness. “Mmm? You sure you're okay?" A faint outline of an arm appeared in the light from the window, just briefly. Everything was normal. “Here, let me…"

And then Alex felt cool claws touching his chest.

He could not help the scream which erupted from his lungs.

Jack shot up. “Alex? What's wrong?"

Alex was halfway out the bed when the table lamp clicked on.

Then the screaming and cursing began again.

He did not want to sleep in that bed anymore, even though the creature with Jack's voice had fled the house. It had all blurred together in a strange unreal moment, but it seemed like he had jumped out the window or something.

Alex did not close the window. He did not even turn off the light. Nor did he call the police, because what was he supposed to report? That some monster with his boyfriend's voice roamed the countryside like some sort of werewolf?

Was he a werewolf? His midnight-hour delirium suggested, asking every few minutes as he tossed and turned. He could not sleep. His bed was far from uncomfortable; really, his was the better of the two. And his heart had slowed its frantic beat and was no longer trying to jump from his chest. It was only his mind which refused to calm down.

How had this happened? What had happened? They had known each other for how long? They had been intimate before. Jack was a normal guy, not whatever he had seen tonight. Jack was not roaming the streets like a stray. But Jack was not here, because Jack would have come checking on him and they would be laughing about Alex's weird intimate nightmare.

He tried to console himself by saying that's what really happened, that Jack was in the room asleep as always, and he needed to be an adult and go back to bed and not entertain fantasy stories.

But he never convinced himself to get up again and check the bed, because he didn't want it to be true. All it would take was to walk ten feet to the other bedroom. Not tonight, though.

Sometime as the minutes turned into hours, he drifted off into an uneasy sleep.

He awoke in his own bed, the sun streaming through the window, the house quiet. Last night's events seemed faint and unreal, like a bad dream that refused to go away. And yet it also seemed much unlike a dream. Regardless of truth or fiction, his head hurt. He struggled out of bed, slipped into some boxers to ward off the morning chill, and went to the kitchen in search of a cup.

Jack, the normal, human Jack, his Jack, sat at the kitchen table reading the newspaper. He looked up and immediately looked away. “Alex…"

“You're…" He could not will himself to come any closer. “I need an ibuprofen."

“I can get it for you." Jack was wearing even less than Alex was, and he had a red welt on his thigh. It had not been there before. It was a few inches below his waist, tucked toward the inner leg, fiery red and mean, new. “Are you going to sit down?"

“Jack, what… what happened last night?"

Jack pulled a cup from the cabinet and filled it with some water. “What do you mean?" His words were measured and slow.

He was trying to hide it, but still Alex caught the hesitation in his voice. “The…" He took the water and pill bottle from Jack and sat down. “I don't even know." Most of it had already faded. It must have been a dream after all. “Sorry for bothering you." He swallowed a couple pills. “How did you get that cut? From me?" It had happened before. He kicked in his sleep sometimes.

Jack froze on his way back to his seat. To Alex's eyes, he had never looked more vulnerable. “No."

“Where, then?" He needed to press. He needed to know, even though he did not want the answer he dreaded. Already cold hit his stomach, a frigid sensation that did not come from the cool water.

Jack shrugged. “Not too sure."

“Jack."

He sighed. “Outside. But I don't know how. It's not serious, don't worry about it. I'll put some ointment on it and it'll be fine tomorrow."

The icy dread in his stomach began to creep upward into his chest. “So…"

Jack sat heavily and sighed. “So."

“So last night was… last night really… happened."

“I don't know what happened last night. I had too much to drink or something. I'm just as confused as you. I don't know what's going on."

He reached across the table and took Alex's hand. As always it was warm and strong, and a little rough from his job. He gave a gentle squeeze. Alex did not return it. He could not move. He was not even sure he was breathing anymore.

Everything from last night came rushing back. It had all happened. Jack's cut proved it. A moan came from his lips. He stared at Jack. “What even are you?"

Jack bit his lip. That may have been the least masculine thing he had ever seen Jack do, and it was not a good look for him. “It's… complicated."

“Complicated. You call what happened complicated?" Alex knew he needed to slow things down a little and be less heated with his language, but at this moment he could not find it within him to care. “I thought I knew you, Jack."

Jack closed his eyes. “And you do, Alex. It's just… it's just there are other things going on."

“Well, that's obvious." Alex was not letting up on the snappy responses. He would come to regret it later, but right now he existed exclusively in the present.

Something in Jack snapped. Alex saw it in his eyes, and it scared him. Jack stood. Alex scooted back. “Fine. You want answers, I'll give them. What, you think I was trying not to look normal? How much effort I have to put into never letting your people know what I really look like, where I come from? We've been here longer than you anyway." He growled. “I don't expect any of that to make sense to you. Forget it." He seemed to shrink before him, and he sat. “But still… that doesn't matter. I want to be with you! I want to be around you! Can you blame me for that?" His breath came in short gasps and he slumped in his seat.

“I blame you for hiding this from me all this time. I hardly know who you are." The words came measured and cold, without passion or emotion behind them. Pure reason suggested that perhaps he should watch his language around a creature that could tear his throat out, but reason was not a major participant in this talk. And besides, Jack was taking all this and not fighting back… maybe he could also hold nothing back.

And then watch with horror as their relationship burned to the ground.

Jack looked at the clock. “I need to go, or I'll be late for work."

“I should get ready, too." He sighed. “See you tonight."

“Yeah. See you tonight." Jack trudged into his room to get dressed. It was not exactly something to look forward to. Ten hours ahead for both of them to hate whatever was to come later.

Alex poured the rest of his water into the sink and went to get ready. He had lost his appetite.

It is amazing how much one conversation, or even the threat or promise of one, can turn mild anxiety into an all-devouring monster which robs all productivity, all joy in what would otherwise be the most pleasant day in weeks, and destroy an appetite so even the most delectable of meals is sawdust.

The world was dim and Alex passed through it in a fog. Jack was not yet home when he pulled in. Normally, he would use this as an opportunity to do a little bit of evening tidying, maybe start the oven because it was his turn to cook he thought, but tonight was not normal. He sat on the couch, as if in a daze, and stared at the door without really looking at it.

As the sun sank behind the horizon and darkness began to fill the room, he blinked. Jack was always home by now. He reached for his phone, then hesitated. There was an unread message. When had it come in? His phone was not on silent. He must really have been out of it.

There was a message from Jack. “Running late," was all it said. No mention of why, no anticipated time he would be home, just a message saying he would be late. Alex looked at the time stamp. Nearly forty five minutes ago. He rubbed the bridge of his nose and stood. Sitting in the dark was not appealing. Maybe he could do some of those chores now.

He flipped on the light and found himself on the couch again. No such luck. The drive to do anything at all had fled from him.

He was scrolling through some combination of news and social media, living vicariously through others and experiencing the world, when the door latch clicked and Jack stepped over the threshold. The only light outside was the sodium lamp casting its sickly glow onto the streets.

“Sorry I'm late," he said.

Alex shrugged. His eyes glanced up at Jack then returned their attention to the screen. “Yeah. I got your text."

Jack sniffed the air like he often did. Only now did that act have any sort of significance. He'd always thought it was allergies or something. “It's late," he said. “Did you eat anything?"

Still he refused to look up. He knew he ought to. He knew Jack was trying to have something resembling a normal evening, and he should do his part in the dance. But he didn't want to. “Wasn't hungry." He knew what Jack was really asking was if he'd cooked, and what the menu was for tonight. “Still aren't. Sorry."

There was an empty pause. “Alex…" He sighed. “Can I sit down?"

Alex nodded and moved his legs.

“Thanks." He sat, closed his eyes, and leaned back. “Been thinking a lot, today. Been trying to… well. You know."

“Yeah." Alex held his tongue, because he knew if he started, that would start a torrent neither of them really wanted and he would regret in the end. “Sorry, I'm not feeling too well." That was true enough to be okay and false enough to make him feel a little guilty. He tried to fake a yawn but he suspected they both knew it was fake.

There was another pause, this one emptier and more dreadful than the last, if that had been possible. “Well, I hope you feel better tomorrow. I need to start early in the morning, so I am going to bed. Good night."

“Night." Alex looked up. “Are you going to be…" Be what? Jack's eyes asked the same question the rest of him did. He wasn't sure what he meant, either. Be human? Be upset? Okay? Angry?

Jack shrugged and said, “I guess," and trudged into the room. He closed the door behind him. The sound of something heavy collapsing onto the bed reached him.

Alex stayed on the couch until his eyes fell heavy. Then he, too, made his way to his bedroom.

Almost there, he stopped. He wanted to be alone. He needed to be with someone. Jack was the last one he wanted to sleep with right now. He needed Jack beside him right now. He needed someone to help him make sense of everything.

Alex wanted the impossible.

His feet turned toward Jack's door, as if pulled by a will not his own. And then he went into Jack's room.

Jack, or the creature calling itself Jack, still slept beside him when a loud truck outside shook him from a troubled sleep. The sun had not yet begun its ascent over the horizon and Jack's alarm would not sound for another half hour. Light from the lamps outside filtered through the blinds, showing off the Jack creature's silhouette.

Alex shuddered at the sight before him. Slowly, cautiously, he slipped from under the covers, tensing when the creature beside him stirred, but when nothing further took place, he continued his slow movements and left him behind.

His own bed was cold and felt empty, but at least he did not have to think about Jack anymore.

Or so he told himself, but his mind had other ideas. Not another moment of sleep was granted him as all sorts of possibilities, some more outlandish than others, played in his head. Not one of them was pleasant. And somehow or another, he found himself in Jack's bed again.

He groaned and put a pillow over his head when he heard Jack get up and pretended he could not hear when Jack called out to him, and tossed and turned until daybreak.

Another sleepless night following another awkward attempt to converse failing into silence and tension, another attempt to get over his fears and pain. The rising sun brought no relief from his mental torments, because the nightmare he experienced was a waking one. The creature calling itself Jack stirred beside him. He looked very much like a dog, and not too frightening or harsh in the morning light. In other contexts he could almost be described as cute… almost. If he had not believed for so long that the creature was his boyfriend and they had shared numerous nights together.

But he had willingly gone to Jack's bed, because this was their life now. He still loved Jack, right? This really was Jack as he truly existed, no barriers.

What if this was his way of making up for all the hiding, by looking like this more often? And when this repulsed him… had he been in love with an illusion all this time, and he now wanted to run from an unpleasant reality? Surely there was one way to make this work. One day, certainly, all would be well and they would explore never-plumbed depths of intimacy… right?

Cautiously, he pressed a finger into Jack's furry back. The furs were coarse, like on a dog that had been rolling in mud and let it dry. He sighed and let his finger get lost in the fur, stroking with this finger as he yawned.

Maybe, if he pretended it was a dog…

“Oh. Good morning." Jack rumbled at him. Alex pulled his finger away as exhaustion fled away. Had he committed some sort of taboo? But surely not… he had done the exact same thing to Jack's more human back before, and he had not cared. They were boyfriends after all. He had some rights.

Jack turned to face him. His yellow-brown eyes pierced into his, unblinking, unearthly. His pointed muzzle terminated in a sharp black nose twitching in the stillness.

Jack's hand appeared beneath the quilt, and a clawed finger approached. “How's things? Sleep well?"

Anxiety spiked as his paw came near. Jack's paw touched Alex's cheek and moved to slide down.

Alex flinched away.

It hadn't been intentional. The action was involuntary, a combination of surprise and uncertainty. Jack had been gentle so there had not been so much as a pinch of skin on contact. It was all his failure. And as soon as it happened Alex wondered if he would be able to take that back, or if it would be a barrier between them forever.

Jack froze and lowered his hand.

There was the answer.

Ice filled Alex's chest. His lungs seized. “Jack, I…" But he betrayed himself. It didn't matter what he said to try to fool himself. That one involuntary action undid all of it.

Jack got out of bed. He muttered something under his breath. His human form blinked into existence as he pulled on his underwear.

“Jack, wait." Alex sat up. “I'm sorry."

“I'm gonna go. I can't do this to you. To me."

Panicked heat replaced the chill in his chest. “Jack, please. I'm sorry. I didn't mean it."

Jack stuck his legs into a pair of pants on the floor and faced him. “I need to figure things out." A hint of a smile appeared for an instant, but it was swallowed up by a pained look.

This was very bad. All because of a flinch? But no, he knew better. It was more than that. Besides, if he was going through this degree of anguish, what must be going through Jack's mind right now? “Wait, let's… let's talk about this after work."

This was a hollow suggestion. No other after-work talks had accomplished a thing. This was just a delay tactic.

Jack forced his way into a long-sleeve shirt. “Okay. I'm going to work. Not hungry right now."

Suddenly Alex felt very foolish. Of course by “going" he meant “going to work," not “I'm leaving your life." No need to panic. And yet, no matter how he tried, he could not shake the sense of foreboding within.

“I'm an idiot." Jack set his duffel on the floor and sighed at the empty hotel room. He'd found an extended stay in the town over, not terribly close to work but that was less important than giving the both of them some breathing room. If he orchestrated this right, they wouldn't have to encounter each other for a few days. Or perhaps ever.

Alex's expression, the wrinkled nose and lips curled back, and the flinch when his paw touched him…

It was all burned into his mind. He saw it when he closed his eyes and felt it against his skin.

He collapsed into a chair and after making sure the blinds were closed, let his human form melt away. Although maintaining this was second nature by now and consumed no energy, still when he could finally be “himself" again it was like a weight had lifted from off his shoulders and he could breathe easy again.

“I'm such an idiot." Why had he allowed himself to get to that point? To let his form slip and terrify the love of his life? They could still be enjoying their nights together. Planning their next adventure. He had hoped to surprise him with a trip to the ocean during off-season when there were fewer people and fewer judgmental stares. That was not going to happen now.

A voice in the back of his mind scoffed at his moroseness. If Alex had not rejected his true self, he wouldn't be in this very-budget accomodation, flipping through the channels for something to distract him from life. Alex saw the truth and wanted nothing to do with it. He had loved an illusion. Their relationship was a lie, and now both knew the truth. It was better this way.

But whose lie had it been? If he had been more forthcoming about who he was, if he had spurned the taboo and entrusted Alex to his real self sooner, then maybe things would have turned out differently.

And maybe there were once stingrays on Neptune.

I'm an idiot for lying to him. I'm an idiot for ever thinking it would work out. I'm an idiot who should go back home where he never has to see me again.

His phone screen lit up. He perked up out of habit. It was a text from Alex.

“Not right now. I just can't." He threw the phone across the room where it landed on a pillow and slid out of sight.

Maybe later, when he was ready for this. Or maybe never. Both were just as likely, by now.

He flipped through channels into the late evening hours, settling on an infomercial so he didn't have to think, and drifted off in the chair.

The morning did not pass so easily alone. He kept expecting to hear Alex's cheerful voice wishing him good morning as he stepped from the shower, the smell of sizzling sausage laying heavy in the air.

Instead the unobjectionable musty smell of the empty hotel room welcomed him as he dripped warm water onto the floor. This room did come equipped with a microwave and a small stove, but in his distress and rush to get out he had not stopped by the store to stock up. He made a note to do so after work today. After all, he might be here for a few weeks.

In the meantime, maybe the front office had some pastries and coffee set out or something.

He picked up the phone. No new notifications since last nights. Alex had not tried to reach out to him again. He felt disappointed, hurt.

But then, he had outright ignored the text, so he could not exactly make Alex out to be the villain.

And yet he was not ready to see just what it was Alex had said. He sighed. He was a coward. But he also knew he would be better elsewhere.

He put in a number he had not contacted in quite a long time, had never planned to contact again. This felt like a defeat.

Because it was.

“I want to come back," he wrote.

He paused. This was false. He did not want to come back. He wanted to stay. But he had to come back. He knew no way to have a future here.

He erased the message and tried something different. “Coming back soon I think. Can say more later." Maybe. He had to be careful not to give away Alex. He deserved to live in peace.

He pressed send and got dressed, then walked out the door.

Alex looked up from the menu and across the table at Blake, whom he had started talking to a few days after Jack disappeared from his life and the crushing loneliness was getting to be too much. This was their first time meeting. Blake had asked to come over yesterday, but Alex was not ready for that just yet. Whether it was lingering loyalty and desire for Jack, a desire to take the new relationship slow, or what, he couldn't quite say.

It had been three weeks without contact. Regardless, it felt wrong to invite someone else in. He's not gone forever, he told himself. He still needs some time. So many days removed from the event, it all seemed like a dream. If it were not for the stray hairs he had found in the bed when he was cleaning the other day, which caused him to leave the room to recover himself, he would believe nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

But even if nothing had happened, the radio silence from him indicated that phase of his life was over. Even he had stopped trying to send messages after the first week, and he got no reply. When he is ready, he told himself. When he is ready, he will reach out.

Which brought him to the here and now, and the man sitting across from him. Blake checked all the right boxes, more or less… stable job and life, big but not too big, someone he could potentially cuddle up against on cold nights.

Blake had suggested the diner just off the Main Street through town. Alex had been here a few years earlier and was not impressed, but the way Blake pushed, Alex thought it would not hurt to give it another try. Businesses can change in that time. But looking at the menu… not much had. It was the same greasy fare he remembered, served at the same dirty tables in the same dingy room. Alex would need to teach Blake what good food looked like, but that was not a deal breaker or anything.

“You're thinking about him again, aren't you?" Blake's voice, more chiding than accusing, snapped Alex from his thoughts.

“Oh! Um… I was thinking about the menu."

Blake smirked and shook his head. “No one is that interested in a diner menu. I've been trying to get your attention for five minutes! I had to ask Bonnie to come back when we were ready."

Alex's stomach growled. This may not be the best food but it was still food and he had not eaten much today. His appetite trying to return he chose to understand as a good thing. It had been spotty the last couple weeks. “I think I know what I want now." What was one lie on top of another, anyway? It was harmless. Blake was right and he might as well admit it. “Sorry. I might have been thinking about him again."

Blake knew only enough details for him to believe Alex was the victim in a relationship that went sour, possibly involving some manner of abuse, but he knew nothing of Jack's… qualities that set him apart. Alex would never give him away. For one, it would be nearly impossible to prove. And two, it was no one's business, and he did not want to be responsible for people hunting Jack down for the rest of his days.

That Jack had been keeping a deep secret from him, that it had wrecked their relationship, and Jack had left without a word were all Blake knew of the situation.

“Dude lied to you and manipulated you. Forget him. Especially now." Blake frowned. “We can talk about him later if you want, but I went on a dinner date with you, not you plus your ex."

“I know I should. Sorry." Probably it was a mistake to try to find someone else so soon. Didn't they say you needed a few months at least to get over a break-up? Or if not that long, definitely more than twenty days. “I forgot what I had last time. What do you think I would like?"

Blake's expression lightened. “Definitely the number four. It's what I always tell people to get if they aren't sure what to get."

Number four was country-fried steak with some sort of house sauce. It didn't look like something he would really like. But he owed Blake, so he ordered it.

And it wasn't bad.

It was good enough, in fact, that after dinner they moved to the house to continue conversation. Blake was more than just eye candy. He had a full-time job as a delivery driver and spent his time off helping with the local food pantry. He'd not started out that way, but his first plan hadn't quite worked out and where he found himself now brought a sense of fulfillment. Just what the first plan had been he didn't volunteer, but Alex let it slide. It couldn't be as bad as a secret identity.

There he went again, thinking about Jack.

Sometime late in the evening, cuddled against one another on the couch, shirts abandoned on the floor some time ago, facing the blank television screen with his head in Blake's chest, Blake rested a hand on Alex's thigh and said, “What say we go to bed?"

Alex shifted and slowly sat up. His chest was comfortable and warm, and he'd felt happy there, and he did not feel too much like getting up but felt he needed to sit up for this conversation. He yawned before he could speak. “It's getting late," he said in tentative agreement.

Blake tilted his head toward the bedrooms. “Want me to accompany you?"

Alex leaned against the cushions and shrugged. “I can take myself. I'm not quite that helpless!"

Blake's demeanor darkened a little. Perhaps he had realized he played this card too fast. “All righty. See you again some other time?"

Alex smiled at that and yawned again. “Sure. I'd love to. I just… sorry. I'm not ready for that yet."

Blake nodded and put his shirt back on. “I can appreciate that. Don't want to rush you or anything." He fingered his keys and stood awkwardly facing him. “Hug before I go?"

Alex stood. “Hugs are good."

They embraced, both a little stiff, Alex from the rapidity of the come-on and Blake from being rejected so abruptly, he guessed. But it was not a hostile or undesired hug from either of them. First hugs were like that sometimes. He'd had a few.

To his credit, Blake did not lean in and try to kiss, and Alex did not try to initiate it either. He wanted to take things slow. Maybe he wasn't quite ready yet. Maybe he was. That was the whole purpose of this evening anyway.

They held the hug for a few seconds, but before long Blake was driving away and Alex still standing there, a chill rushing in to replace the warmth of just a few moments prior.

He was alone again. Now the only thing accompanying him to bed would be his thoughts. He prayed they would be good ones, of tonight and not of past dates. Maybe he needed the right guy to help him through this so he wouldn't be trapped in his head all the time. Maybe Blake was that guy.

He hoped so. But still, maybe it was too soon. He shook his head. Probably not. He couldn't reman trapped in this limbo forever. It was too soon to say for sure, but a part of him could see himself with Blake.

He reached for his phone to send Blake a thank-you message and to invite him to something next week he hadn't thought of for sure yet. Maybe a movie, if anything was playing. Otherwise there was always dinner again, and meeting at his place next time.

He was in the middle of writing his text when a new message came in. It was from Jack, and it was two words long: “I'm sorry."

And just like that, he knew sleep would be hard in coming. He hovered his finger over the screen, wondering if he should change his message to Blake. Perhaps ask him to come over and stay after all. If nothing else, it would help him move on and rescue him from the mental state he was sure to be in.

“Thanks for coming out," the text read. “I enjoyed your company and want to hang out soon. Talk tomorrow?"

And that is what it read when he sent the text, keeping him in the dark for now and guaranteeing a difficult night.

Or perhaps not.

He sent a follow-up text. “I changed my mind. Can you come back? Tonight?"

Jack hated himself for what he had done and what he knew would happen when he did what he needed to do. He'd got in the car, ditched town, and gone as far away as he dared since he did not have to work for three days, before collecting his thoughts and preparing to make some ominously final decisions.

His coyote confidant had no desire to help him out of the predicament he had found himself in. After a couple days of dodging the question, he had finally admitted to the tangle with a human and received the expected disapproving response. However, he had so far refused to give up Alex's name or location. He hoped he had been vague enough to throw them off his trail for a while, but the coyotes were persistent. Sooner or later, they would find him and cause trouble.

That is, if he didn't get to Alex first.

But how could he do that? He had played the part of a coward and walked out of his life without so much as an explanation. He'd manipulated the love of his life and forced him to fend for himself without warning. And he knew how Alex could be. He knew what torments he had consigned him to.

In short, Jack was a terrible person and he deserved far worse than the guilt he was now quite deservedly feeling. But just what was he supposed to do about it? He knew he could not stay, just as much as he knew there was no getting back together after this. Well, he could stay, but he was too afraid to, too afraid that Alex might see him, or whoever Alex found next who was more deserving might see him.

He did not want to face his shame. He did not want to be reminded of his deeds. He did not want to be reminded of his lies.

He really was not a good person.

He sat in his truck, sitting in a deserted gas station parking lot. His confidant had tried to talk him out of it and threatened him with confrontation or even capture if he did what he was about to do. His confidant said enough was enough, the human had been through too much already.

His confidant was right.

But also not. Something tugged at him. He needed to do this. He needed this closure. He told himself it was for Alex as much as him, but he suspected it was largely selfish. Still, he did.

His phone rested in his lap. His finger hovered over Alex's contact listing. A phone call would be better. They could hear each other and clear things up once and for all.

But a text would be easier on both of them.

He typed his message slowly. Two words, but two words hiding several paragraphs each.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry for lying. I'm sorry for leading you on. I'm sorry for not telling you it was okay. I'm sorry for disappearing from your life. I'm sorry for being a coward. I'm sorry for being a terrible person.

I'm sorry.

He knew better than to ask forgiveness. That was a step too far.

He took a deep breath, pressed send, and started the car up. It was time to leave the wreckage of this life behind.