Chase nearly tripped as he ran across the yard to the guest cottage. He was now more sure than ever of what was really going on with Nathan, and yet at the same time terrified he had pushed too hard to uncover the truth. He'd only wanted to offer comfort, and Nathan had pushed him out. Chase opened the door and crossed to his bed, slumping down onto it and driving the palms of his hands into his forehead in frustration. Clearly the last thing the man needed was a fledgling and fumbling gay trying to drag him out of the closet. If he was even in the closet. Maybe he wasn't gay. When Chase considered it, there was very little evidence to state his case and yet there was this... feeling. Something in the way their eyes met that informed Chase he wasn't chasing some wild hypothesis.
Chase rolled over and opened the bedside table drawer where he kept his art supplies. He reached in, set the rolled-up canvas bags of brushes and knives aside, and searched for the photo he had been keeping there. He liked to look at it from time to time and imagine what his own father might have looked like in a photograph from that era. Would he have resembled his father at this age as much as Tyler did Nathan? It was also fun to create an idea of what Nathan's life might have been like at this age. The stud football player all grown up into a family man. It was difficult to imagine Nathan without the distinguished air that now seemed to emanate from him. Chase scoured the wooden drawer's bottom, but his hand came out empty. The photo was gone.
Nathan sat in one of the two lawn chairs perched on the roof of the cabin. He wasn't sure how long he'd been roosting up here, only that the sun had now sunk into the other side of the lake and the stars had taken up their residence in the crepuscular sky. He had watched as the orbs of light appeared one by one, marveling at the vastness of it all and wondering why the struggle within him could feel so monumental when his life was but a flickering glimmer compared to these heavenly bodies. He felt a responsibility to his family, that was certain, but he also felt a responsibility to himself. He had never mistrusted his attraction to other men, nor had he ever been plagued by a belief that there was anything intrinsically immoral or base about his nature. He believed his union with Stacey and the timing of their pregnancy must have been destined for him, as surely as the stars seemed to hold their fixed positions in the sky. He was meant to be a father, and so he embraced the responsibility and stopped questioning it a long time ago. But now... now he wondered if there wasn't a new destiny awaiting him, one that would require him to stop denying his true nature and embrace his authentic self. He turned to look over at the guest cottage and saw the light in the windows there dim until every pane of glass was a dark mirror reflecting the yard. The question, which still pierced his mind, was: could he hang on to his family and himself?