“I don’t want it to be a surprise when he gets there, but the man I told you found me? He’s going to come by the hotel and help me clean up. I need to get a haircut, probably a shave. Years might have passed, but how I look right now is nothing like the man they said goodbye to. It would be less shocking for them to become less of the man I am now.”

  I blink up at him, not too sure how to respond. He never put his contacts back in after that night at his place, letting his beautiful and stunning blue eyes shine bright. If anyone else noticed, they didn’t say anything. This is big, though. His hair is long, his facial hair is plentiful, and while I know he’ll be just as handsome any way he looks … it’s a lot of change in a short time when he’s already struggling so much, especially with the emotional reunion to come. So many changes can’t be easy to handle at one time.

  “It’s been like this out of necessity, not because I like it. It’s a good change, babe. Promise.”

  His eyes are clear—no shadows and no pain.

  “I’m not sure I can handle you getting more handsome, honey.”

  He laughs softly. “I might look like an ogre …. You never know. Been a long time since I looked in the mirror and saw any parts of the man I was before.”

  “You could never look like an ogre.”

  “Tell me that later after Sway gets his hands on me.”

  “Sway?”

  “Yeah, the one I told you about. You’ll love him. One of the best men I’ve ever known. Just watch out for him if he gets his hands on glitter,” he adds oddly with the most serious of expressions on his face.

  “No glitter, got it.”

  “You’ll like him, Liv, and he is going to love you.”

  “I can’t wait to meet him,” I tell him honestly.

  He smiles, and I’m relieved to see some of the stress over our trip is gone from his face. I know it’s still lingering below the surface, but he doesn’t appear as nervous as he had been. We continue our wait, snacking and talking about a whole bunch of nothing, passing our time comfortably together. When they call our flight, I know he’s getting nervous again. It’s coming off him in waves, but he’s also gone silent.

  I take his hand and squeeze it.

  “I’m here with you every step of the way,” I promise.

  He gives me a quick kiss just when our section is called, and we make our way on the plane, anxious energy coming off us both now.

  I say a little prayer when we take off that this won’t hurt him more than he’s already hurting. That his family welcomes the shock of him coming back into their lives.

  One thing I know for sure, this is going to be a trip to remember.

  One thing’s for sure about Georgia.

  Georgia is hot.

  Even this late in the year, the heat feels like a living beast burning its way down your throat only to steal the air straight from your lungs.

  It feels like you turned the blow dryer directly to your face while trying to breathe normally.

  This is no joke kind of sticky heat.

  I’ve always heard stories about the humidity in the South, but this is my first time experiencing the Peach State, and I already can’t wait to run back to Boston. Shouldn’t it be cooler here this time of year? My goodness, how do people live in the South?

  I glance at Zeke—what I’ve come to call him solely. He told me the other night that I was the only person who called him that, even before, making it special to him, too. I still call him Drew in public. Until he’s ready, that’s how it will be. I know I could call him Zeke always, but these baby steps will take us to when he’s ready to let that part of him go.

  Now that he’s shown me who he really is, I never want to put him back in a box again.

  Zachariah Cooper deserves to live.

  He will always be a little of Drew, I suppose. That’s the person who he became for over twenty years. Drew is just as much a part of him as Zeke Cooper is. We haven’t talked about which of the two men will remain “him” back home in the future, but I have hopes that this trip will give him what he needs to be himself.

  The closer we get to the baggage claim, I can feel him getting nervous. His hand slightly tightens around mine, not painful, just enough that I know he’s struggling to be back home. Knowing what’s to come and the pain that will be brought to the surface are daunting.

  We just cleared the impossibly high climb up the escalators that feed up from the tram system below and up to the level where baggage claim is.

  “Yoohooo! Over here, you big stud, you!”

  My head jerks up at the voice screaming above the low hum of activity inside Hartsfield-Jackson Airport. Even though this place is huge—I’m talking huge—and there are so many people around, I have no trouble finding the person who just yelled over the crowd.

  Just off to the side of where we entered from the escalators—leading us from the transit system that moves passengers around the large airport—is a neat roped-off section filled with people watching those arriving. Each of them holds different expressions of expectations. Some with signs, iPads with names displayed, and (the cutest) little kids with smiles as big as the balloons they’re holding. I’m distracted briefly when I see one of the kids break away and run toward the people arriving, stopping when she gets scooped up with a smile by the older gentleman in front of us. I glance away from the happy reunion when I hear the voice again … then I see him.

  The man who has to be Zeke’s Sway. No question, I know in my gut that it’s him.

  He’s bouncing in place adorably, full of excitement that would rival any little kid that just reunited with their own loved ones. He’s got a pair of black slacks on, tight and molded to his thick thighs, but when I see what shoes he has on, I can’t help but giggle. Yes, Zeke described him well. Standing in a pair of stunning gold heels—that make me feel slightly self-conscious of the designer sneakers I decided to wear for our day of travel—he looks as if he was born to wear them. The gold flowy top that fits him to perfection has me making a mental note to ask him where he does his shopping.

  Sway has class.

  Class with a capital C.

  Somehow seeing him in person, I feel a little of the stress and tension leave my body, and when I reach his face, I see his eyes trained right on me.

  His smile huge, his chocolate skin absolutely flawless and radiating happiness under the bright lights above him. He reaches up, rubs the top of his bald head once before letting his hand fall. His eyes travel to where my hand is joined with Zeke’s, and his smile grows so big and so blinding that I swear it has to hurt his face.

  I steal a glance at Zeke to see his face awash with so much emotion. I know he’s seen this man recently, but this moment is hard for him, and I’m so glad he has someone in his corner.

  I squeeze his hand, and he looks down at me.

  “Go,” I softly encourage.

  His eyes flash brightly, and his hand jerks in mine.

  People move around us … the two people just stopped in the middle of a busy crowd rushing about, and not one of them seems to notice us having this monumental moment.

  “Go, baby,” I try again when he doesn’t move.

  This time, when I see his eyes flash, I know he’s heard me. He bends down, presses the softest of kisses to my lips, and I lose hold of his hand when he starts walking.

  I move to the side, getting out of the crowd’s way, and watch. I’m close enough that he could reach out and get me easily, but just enough distance to allow them to have their moment privately. When he reaches his friend, I watch them both struggle to compose themselves before they reach out at the same time. Arms around each other, they hug tightly. I lose the fight with my tears when I see Sway shed a few. Blinking them away, I notice for the first time the man standing next to Sway.

  He’s beautiful. Tall, blond hair that looks more gray than the blond it was before, and the most stunning eyes. You can tell he smiles often, laugh lines sprinkled around his strong features, and the brightest smile pointed directly at me.

  He steps toward me, away from the two men still embracing. His arms open immediately, and I walk into them without hesitation but feel slightly awkward about hugging a man who I’ve never met before. His hug, however, lacks any signs that he’s feeling the same awkwardness. You would think we’ve known each other for years.

  He takes a step back, holding me with his hands at my shoulders and studying me intensely.

  “I’m Davey,” he says after a moment.

  “Olivia,” I respond, not sure what else to do.

  “Thank you for bringing him home. A lot of people love this man of yours.”

  I glance over at the two men. They aren’t hugging anymore, but you can tell they’re still lost in their moment.

  “That guy is mine.” His words continue as if I hadn’t looked away. “One might say, had your guy not done what he did, I would never have him. We wouldn’t have our sweet Stella, either.” I glance back, giving him my attention while he speaks, seeing the admiration in his gaze. “That day changed us all. If this meeting was this emotional, I imagine the storm is just getting started. This will be hard, but you seem like the kind of girl who can weather it.”

  “I’m from Boston, of course I can,” I respond with a smirk and nod, trying to add some lightness to the mood. What else do you say? He’s spot-on. It will be one hell of an emotional trip, and some of those emotions might be harder to handle than the rest. We both know I understand what he’s saying. “In all seriousness, Davey, it doesn’t matter how turbulent the sea may get. I’m not leaving my post.”

  He smiles, and if anything, he gets more handsome.

  “You’re going to fit in just fine.”

  “Uh,” I begin, but stop when Zeke’s arm goes around my shoulders.

  “Oh, my sweet heavens above. Get out of my way, you big hunk of yummy, and let me get my eyes on this tiny little thing.”

  Before I know what’s happening, I’m being spun by the man I can only assume is Sway. He gives me a few extra twirls with my hand held above my head before he stops and dramatically wipes his forehead.

  “Tell me I can get my hands on that hair, girly pop.”

  “Uh …” I lamely say.

  “Goodness me, look at you,” he continues, ignoring my inability to form words, looking behind him at Zeke. “You did good. A fact that doesn’t surprise me, though. All you hunk-a-hunks find equally beautiful women. I tell you what, girly, when you’re blessed with a body like that, you show it off. What are you wearing this big sweater for? This is Georgia.”

  “It was cold on the flight?”

  “Who’re you asking?”

  Zeke, the big goof, at least has the decency to try to cover up his laugh. He doesn’t succeed, but he tries.

  “What do you have on under that?” he asks, cocking his hip and appraising me again.

  “A shirt.”

  He nods, pulls the most fabulous crossbody bag over his head, and hands it to his husband. Before I can so much as blink, my hand is in Sway’s, and I’m rushing to keep up with his steps.

  How on earth does he move so well in those tall heels?

  Hand in hand, or I guess more like hand dragging hand, he pulls me into the bathroom. I get fluffed, buffed, and stripped of my sweater in no time. When he spins me around to face the bathroom mirror, even in the harsh lighting, I’m amazed. How did he make me look like I hadn’t just been up all night and then traveling for half the day? The dark strands of my hair look like I just spent hours with a hot tool: waves, body, and so much shine. My sweatshirt now tied at my waist, my jeans a stark contrast to the light-green material. I should have thought about what shirt I had on a little better when I answered him. Though how would I have guessed this was what he had in mind. The crop top tee leaves a good two inches of my belly showing where the crop top ends. It’s just a baggy shirt that had been designed like that, but still … it’s a lot more skin than I was showing.

  “Sneakers will do but only because they’re Gucci. Girly has good taste, I see.”

  “Are you talking about just my shoes or the man?”

  He winks. “I think I’m going to like you.”

  I give myself one more glance before meeting his dark eyes, matching his smile with one of my own.

  “Right back at you.”

  “How is he?” Sway asks as I pull my bag back on my shoulder.

  “He’s struggling,” I answer after a beat. “I do think he’s doing okay, all things considered. I think he’s scared of hurting them more.”

  He nods, humming softly. “He has no idea how much he’s loved. He didn’t back then either. Not one person who he left hasn’t wished for a day with him back in it.” His eyes start to fill with tears, and his jaw starts working as he pulls himself together. “Thank you for bringing him home.”

  “I didn’t do anything. All I did was tell him I would be by his side. He did the rest.”

  “All you did? Honey pie, no way he would have been able to do it without you. I’ve watched each of these big strong men who he left fall in love over the years. Each one of those hunks as alpha as it comes. Independent, strong willed, okay with being alone, and some of the baddest of bad asses you’ll ever meet. However, when it comes to their women? They’re better with them than without. Just because they’re manly men doesn’t mean they don’t need their person—the one meant for them—before they can become the best version of themselves.”

  “That’s really sweet of you to say, but I’m not sure you’re correct.”

  “Sometimes all you need is a second for your life to change, darlin’. Just one second and you feel the winds start to pick up, giving you a hug while pushing you toward what you deserve.”

  He gives me a smile, his whole face transforming, making him even more handsome than he already is. I nod, but don’t argue with him. I certainly know I’m a better version of myself when Zeke is around. When we clear the hall of the bathroom, seeing the men standing just outside leaning against a little glass wall, I watch the man I love relax a little the second he sees me. That tiny movement might as well back up the words his friend just told me.

  Well, what do you know?

  “I told you,” Sway says, leaning into me so he can speak quietly and just for me.

  I loop my arm in his and smile at him, making his face soften. “Yeah, you sure did.”

  “You” by Louyah

  Liv is fretting.

  I know she’s worried about what is coming, and I would be lying if I said I wasn’t as well.

  The closer we get to the hotel and see how much Hope Town has changed since I left, the tighter my chest becomes. It feels like someone has reached into my chest and started squeezing.

  That feeling hasn’t let up once since, either.

  Davey left a little while ago and took Liv with him to get some provisions for the room—snacks, drinks, and a few toiletries we left behind. In reality, I needed her to go out so Sway could work his magic and take me the final step back to the man I was. Or as close as I can get. I’ve changed a lot over the years, but not enough that I won’t look pretty close to the man I was with some careful help of his hair tools. Older, harder, and weathered with the pain I’ve experienced in the time I’ve been gone has changed me. I wore my hair and my beard as a mask. A mask I need to shed not just for this reunion but also to be myself for the woman who owns me.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t want her here. I seem to always want her with me. This, though, I needed to do alone. I’ve told myself it was because I didn’t want to turn her fretting into a full-blown worry session, but I know the truth now. Watching him through the mirror, I need this moment with my old friend just as much as I’m betting he does. I needed to face the past, myself, and be able to let him go.

  “You sure about this, handsome?” Sway asks for the fifth time, still brushing his comb through my long hair. He’s been playing with it a lot more than he’s been brushing it, though.

  “Needs to be done, Sway.”

  “You know … ” He starts, trailing off while reaching to grab his scissors from where they had been resting on the tall cart that Davey rolled in for him when they arrived earlier. The silence ticked by. The whole time, he kept running his hands through my hair. Would have been weird, but damn, if it wasn’t relaxing.

  I give him the time he needs and look over at the cart again. Sway says it holds everything he might ever need, but I’d put money on it holding a bunch of glitter in half the drawers.

  “For so long, I couldn’t wait to get my hands on you. In the platonic sense, you dog.” He laughs when I look at him funny in the mirror he set up in this makeshift salon in the corner of the room. “Don’t you get old Sway wrong, you hunks are still oh-so hunky. Only now I have a hunky man of my own, and honey child, no way would I stray from my man no matter how hard you tried to get me.” He tosses his head back and hoots loudly at his own joke.

  “Tell me about your husband. How did you meet?” I ask, too full of nervous energy to join in his hilarity but also genuinely wanting to know about his life now. I’m not touching the flirting bait he always loved to toss at myself or one of my former friends. Shameless. That’s just who Sway is. It’s oddly refreshing to know that hasn’t changed in the years that I’ve been away.

  He keeps cutting my hair, not speaking. I watch as the long length falls with each snip.

  Brush. Snip.

  A blond piece falls to the floor.

  Brush. Snip.

  Pieces of the man I have become fall away to the floor with each bit of hair he releases to the floor.

  Brush. Snip.

  Pieces of the man I had been before fall into place with each cut he makes.

  I was transfixed as I watched each piece he cut and the dance with the man I was and am warring out in the mirror. Each piece flutters to the floor, his pink-tipped fingernails twinkling all the while he is unaware of how mammoth this moment is. Who am I kidding … he knows. Hence the silence.