Retracing their steps would take another month at least. They could have gone to all the places that proved important, even that small mining town where they’d kissed for the first time. But if Cole agreed, getting rid of the growing attachment to Ned might prove impossible. So he rose and approached his bags with words sitting at the back of his throat like a huge lump of food that he couldn’t swallow.
In seven years, he hadn’t revealed his secrets to anyone, but as he sat across from Ned with the tin box in hand, it felt as if opening the lid would equal standing naked in the middle of town and letting everyone touch him. He didn’t dare look up to see Ned’s reaction, but their memories were all in there. The other photograph. The compass. The little toy cowboy who’d lost his friend and, wrapped in Ned’s old bandana, a piece of bark Cole had cut from the tree. To burn, he’d told himself at the time, but the chunk of dry wood had been with him ever since, still marked with their initials carved into a heart.
Ned didn’t speak. He put his cup down, reached across the table, and picked up the bark. For once, Cole wished to hear him mumble his thoughts out loud.
“You kept it,” Ned whispered, holding the memento in his hands as if it were a precious gold nugget.
Cole hummed, biting the inside of his cheek to handle the emotion buzzing deep in his chest.
The past shouldn’t hurt for so long, yet seeing Ned hold the bark reminded him of everything he’d lost with blinding clarity.
“And you still want to leave me.” Ned sighed and ran his fingers over the old bandana, his features blank, as if he’d been paralyzed.
“I don’t need anyone anymore, Ned,” Cole said, rising to his feet when the light outside died. “I’m just fine on my own.”
It must have finally sunk in that their time together was over, because Ned didn’t beg or offer to go with Cole. He got up and grabbed a sweater, as if the chill inside Cole’s heart had reached him too. “But you won’t go until it gets warm, right?” he asked as if the snow hadn’t thawed days ago.
Cole watched him in silence until it became unbearable, and he knew the truth needed to be spelled out. “It’s already warm. Stalling will only make this harder.”
Ned ran his fingers through his shiny auburn hair and stood by the fireplace, staring at the old picture of two young men who hadn’t yet known what kind of future lay ahead. His eyes glistened when he looked back at Cole. “Don’t go.”
No excuses, no gimmicks, no attempts to manipulate Cole into staying. Just those two words that were so simple yet made everything so complicated. Ned had to understand they weren’t the love-struck boys from the photograph anymore, no matter how deeply Ned’s tears struck Cole.
He shouldn’t care. At least not this much.
“I have to,” he said with a bit more softness than he’d intended.
Ned picked up the wicker basket filled with little cowboy figurines that had spooked Cole when he’d first entered the house. He put it on the table. “Pick one. I wanted to replace the one you left with Scotch, like I promised. I thought gifting you one was silly, so I never told you, but I now see you did keep the other one.” He nodded at the old wooden figurine Cole still carried with all his other secrets.
“Why did you make so many?” Cole asked, hovering his hand above the basket. The air was almost too hot to breathe, and he couldn’t bring himself to meet Ned’s eyes.
He wasn’t leaving to punish Ned. In fact, he wanted him to fare well, maybe even visit from time to time. It was something he needed to do for himself, because their connection was already pushing the boundaries of what it had been meant to be, and the emotions it stirred were terrifying.
Ned shrugged. “Wanted it to be perfect, but I could never get it right.”
Swallowing, Cole picked one with a visible growth ring pattern. “What’s wrong with this one?”
Ned rubbed one eye. “Just take the damn figurine. And this?” He pointed at the bark. “Are you keeping it or can I have it?”
It was a simple question, but Cole found himself wanting to grab the stupid piece of wood and stuff it under his shirt, so he could feel it scratching his skin.
But what was it other than yet another knot connecting him with a man from his past? Maybe it would be easier to leave without it?
There, he was lying to himself again.
“Keep it,” he said in a voice so raspy he needed to clear his throat right after.
Cole had expected Ned to move the memento to the mantelpiece and arrange it alongside the picture but instead, he grabbed the keepsake and threw it into the fireplace.
Cole didn’t think. He let out a choked sound and dropped to his knees, reaching into the heat before reason took over. The bark was so dry its edges caught fire instantly, and he grabbed the first thing within sight, his boot, to hastily drag his treasure out of the flames. One of the burning logs dropped on Cole’s hand, but it didn’t even hurt, as if his skin had turned into stone.
Flames danced over their initials, and the heart was already turning black, but Cole pulled off his shirt and used it to stifle the flames, in a rush he could neither explain nor rationalize.
It was only moments later that he dared pull away the fabric, revealing the piece of wood to be smoke-licked yet whole.
The smell of it was like the sweet odor of his own flesh scalding. Or perhaps he had burned himself and was too shocked for the pain to hit him yet. His left hand started pulsing with discomfort the moment he was able to think again.
Ned grabbed his old bandana off the table, dipped it in a bucket of water and got down to his knees, but Cole rose and stepped back, pressing the bark to his naked chest. The air smelled of death, as if in this very moment their love had finally let out its last breath.
"What are you doing?" Ned roared.
“Don’t touch me!” Cole hollered back, stumbling toward the wall, but it wasn’t enough. Ned was still there, watching him.
Dog whined from his corner, prompting Cole to move again, toward the fresh air outside. His heart thudded as if the fire had taken hold of it as well.
Ned huffed, and squeezed the dripping bandana in his hand. “You don’t want it, and you’re leaving, so what’s it matter, huh? Come here and let me wrap your hand!”
“You tricked me. Again,” Cole said, stepping into the late afternoon chill. The grass outside was cool on his feet, but he didn’t want to see Ned’s face, or hear him. Or even smell him.
He should have never showed him the bark. He should have never stayed so long.
It had all been a mistake.
But Ned followed him with dangerously dark eyes. “You said I could keep it, so it was mine to do with as I pleased! But if the initials are so important, you’re free to go and find yourself a Nathan, a Noah, or even a goddamn Nicholas, so he fits them.”
“Shut your damn face, O’Leary!” Cole snapped, hugging the bark to his chest. “You’re a liar! I wanted to entrust you with this… but you don’t deserve it. You’re a cheat like everyone else!”
“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Ned snarled and squared his shoulders. “I made my peace with being a no good man! Then you barge into my life with your sweet kisses and compliments only to leave because you’ve got ‘places to be’. What places, huh?”