Page 48 of Fear of Flying

Except his lungs were leaden, and he couldn’t breathe, let alone move. He knew without even trying that his arms wouldn’t push him up out of the chair and his legs wouldn’t walk him over to the bed. His hand flew up to cover his mouth, catching the sob before it made too loud a sound, and he felt the hot sting of tears as they blurred his view of Zach lying there in bed.

Fuck.

Goddammit.

His dream come true was right there. Only a few feet away, but he was being a goddamn coward. Petrified.

A small part of him had the urge to wake Zach up, feel the comfort and safety of his embrace, and see the truth of things in those eyes of his. Find just enough bravery to make things happen. But he couldn’t move. Wouldn’t move.

God, feeling like himself—truly himself—the last day and a half had been indescribable.

The idea of coming out? Terrifying.

Zach was worth it. No question. But it was a lot and all at once, after three decades of hiding. He was not at all confident in his ability to do it. In fact, he was having trouble even imagining what it would look like. So much of the man he’d become had been tied up in hiding who he really was.

He was going to have to go back into work next Monday—maybe even sooner, on Friday—and just be regular Drew again. The experienced lawyer with a serious lack of career ambition who played straight so well that sometimes even the people who did know forgot he was gay. It was only his parents who knew, and his brother and his wife, but Drew’s sexuality was always...

Shit. To them, it was like something he used to do, an old hobby or a childhood sport.

They had no fucking clue he was holding it all inside all the time—and godddd—he hadn’t realized how truly exhausting it had been until now. Now that he was out and free—just within this little bubble, this strange and wonderful time and space that seemed to exist outside of real life, like he’d climbed into the wardrobe and emerged in Narnia.

And that was the problem, wasn’t it? He couldn’t do both, couldn’t be both Drews. Both in and out of the closet. The worlds were too separate, too different, and Drew couldn’t see a way to combine them.

God, he wasn’t sure he’d fit back in the closet.

He could already feel how suffocating it would be to cram himself in again, but his life back home didn’t include his sexuality. It didn’t really allow for it.

Did that mean that all of this was just make-believe? Had he just fallen into this fantasy world for a fucking vacation? Leading Zach on and making him think that there could ever be an existence in which Drew Parker was out and proud and publicly in love with a man?

Sure, New Mexico and Albuquerque seemed more laid back, more accepting and inclusive. But that didn’t mean it would be easy or even possible.

Everything needed to change. And if that was true, had any of this been real?

Who exactly was Drew Parker?

Zach was clearly out and proud. He didn’t deserve a hidden relationship and stolen moments of intimacy. He deserved a partner who could give him everything, be everything. Zach would be better off without the struggle and the burden and the hidden personality that was Drew Parker.

Drew Parker was never going to get married. Drew Parker wasn’t out. Drew Parker was a divorce lawyer who saw day in and day out what a train wreck marriage could be, even between gay couples. So what was the point?

They hadn’t talked about it in as many words, but Drew knew without a doubt that Zach wanted a husband. He wanted a family. He wanted to live his life happy and carefree and in love. Drew took a deep, shaky breath, his heart squeezing painfully as he imagined it all for Zach. Everything—the husband, the house with a yard and a picket fence if they did those in New Mexico, the dog, and the two-point-five kids. He saw it all, and it made his heart so happy to see Zach so happy.

But Drew Parker wasn’t the man he saw with Zach.

Drew screwed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose, and hot tears forced their way out and rolled down his cheeks. A small part of him, this urgent and desperate whisper in his mind, tried to make a case for staying. Zach would understand and he would help, it said. This was some strong, magical, indestructible love, it said.

But what if Drew was never okay with being out? What if he couldn’t get there, and he made Zach waste his time building a relationship that was doomed to fail from the start? They both were in their thirties already, for fuck’s sake. He couldn’t make Zach wait on him for just the possibility that a future together was written in the stars for them.

Fate. Destiny.

God, what if it was all true and he’d only just gotten this escape, this taste of heaven because it was better to have loved and lost? And there was someone so amazing and so right for Zach? If he stayed, if he tried but still couldn’t get it together, it wasn’t fair to Zach. Zach might miss out on meeting the man he was meant to spend the rest of his life with, and Drew would never forgive himself for standing in the way of Zach’s happiness.

If he left now, if he—Drew brought his fist to his mouth to stifle another sob. He was going to have to leave before Zach woke up. He’d never be able to say goodbye otherwise. And Zach wouldn’t understand that he deserved so much better, that he was better off without Drew.

Just the thought of Zach waking up to find him gone—oh god, it clenched at his heart so tightly it was impossible to breathe for a second. But it was better this way. It had to be this way.

Drew wasn’t sure how long he sat there in the chair, staring at Zach’s sleeping form through a tear-blurred gaze, his heart twisting in his chest and his breath hitching fitfully.

He planned it out in his mind—he’d grab his phone and bag and clothes and take them into the main room; he’d get dressed; and he’d leave. He’d walk out the door of the suite and make sure it shut silently behind him, sealing him off from his wonderful and heartbreaking dream come true, this thing that was surely only meant to be for a small moment in time.