Page 49 of Second Chance

“Think about it?”

“Yeah.”

“And not to pressure you,” Tony adds, “but maybe think about it fast? The longer you take to tell her, the worse it will seem.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Daniel looks away. Tony knows he’s not going to call the detective. “Are you holding up okay? I know this is asking a lot of you, on top of everything.”

Tony looks out over the valley. The hills beneath them are still green, dark and deep. They haven’t begun to turn the rich cornucopia of orange, yellow, and red the next few weeks will produce. Beyond the forest, the Hudson glitters in the distance.

“Did you go to the ocean much in California?” Tony asks.

Daniel shrugs. “Sometimes, I guess. It’s pretty cold around the Bay Area, so we didn’t do a whole lot of swimming there.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Eh.” Daniel makes a weighing motion with his hands. “I went a few times when I was in undergrad in LA. I ended up getting knocked on my ass—the waves out there were so intense. Not a fun time.”

“That tracks. I can picture baby Daniel refusing to have fun at the beach.”

“What can I say?” Daniel’s grinning his most self-satisfied grin, the one Tony doesn’t want to admit he finds seductive. Tony can hear it in his voice, though they’re both looking toward the Hudson and not at each other. “I’m a river guy.”

Tony shakes his head in mock consternation. The effect is probably ruined. He can’t quite pull his eyes away from the view, the broad expanse of the Hudson snaking its way past the forests lining the banks. “It always looks so calm, this far away.”

“That’s what I’m saying. The Hudson’s way calmer than the ocean. They’re both nice to look at, but I’m partial to the river.”

“Sure,” Tony agrees. “I mean…” He loses the words for what he’s trying to say.

Daniel turns away from the river and focuses on Tony entirely.

With substantial effort, Tony makes himself look Daniel in the eye. Usually, he loves this—the way Daniel looks at him, the clarity he gets from being with Daniel. But when he’s feeling unsure, or worse yet, unmoored, the clarity with which Daniel sees him can be hard to take.

“You think the Hudson’s safe and placid, right?” Tony asks. “I mean, I knowyoudon’t. You think too much, but…people think so.”

“Sure.” Daniel nods slowly.

“But then when you get close, the water’s way too deep, or it’s polluted, or you’re right next to a shipping route, and the waves might drag you into a motor or something.”

“Okay.” Daniel drags the word out, clearly unsure where Tony’s going with this. “No skinny-dipping in the river. Got it.”

For a moment, Tony lets the thought distract him. There are places they could go for a swim, and the idea of Daniel’s pale shoulders and back freckling under the late autumn sun as they sneak into the water is unreasonably tempting. It sounds like an escape.

“I mean, we could—” he starts but then stops. “Um. No, what I mean is, the water doesn’t choose that, does it? The way some bits turn to poison, or the way the boats drag it in and it turns treacherous.”

“No.” Tony’s pretty sure Daniel isn’t saying a bunch of pedantic things about how water isn’t sentient and can’t choose things.

“I feel the same, sometimes. Like someone or something else came along and made me into something wrong and poisonous or pushed me up against some rocks or a boat until I had to give way and break into pieces.”

One of Daniel’s broad hands rests casually on the railing of the fire tower. “Fluids don’t break,” he says. It’s exactly the sort of comment Tony thinks Daniel would make, except his voice is soft and kind. “They reform themselves over and over, and if you give the water a chance, it can clean itself of any poison.”

Tony looks out over the Hudson again and lets his hand rest on the railing next to Daniel’s. “It’s so hard though.” Tony’s voice cracks a little, making his cheeks heat. “To keep putting yourself together again.”

In an instant, Daniel’s hand covers his, warm and comforting. “I know.”

He doesn’t add anything else, but he stands there, body angled toward Tony, looking over the Hudson with his hand resting gently on Tony’s until the sound of hiking boots on the metal rungs of the tower draws them apart.

There’s no reason Tony shouldn’t let himself keep touching Daniel. His friends all know. They talked about it two hours ago—how they all know. But something holds him back. Something keeps him a hand’s breadth away from Daniel, where people in his life before Daniel entered it might see.

Tony wonders if it would be different if he were with a woman. If there was never anything to keep…not hidden, precisely, but unspoken. He tries to picture it, having a girl he goes out with sometimes. Could he hold her hand in public? Could he kiss her on the cheek? On the lips?

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