Easton sighed as he laid his head back on my chest, sounding so exhausted I almost wanted to let it go. To just let him relax after what had been a stressful day for both of us, but I couldn’t. I came here to make things right, and I was going to see that through.

“Baby, I—”

Easton’s back straightened and he turned around to look at me, his eye twinkling. “I think I like where this conversation is going already.”

I tightened my arms around him and pressed my mouth to his ears. “Stop, this is serious.” I was not going to apologize for calling him baby either. I was here with him, and it felt good, and I would be a hypocrite to tell him he deserved to get what he needed, when I kept denying myself the same thing.

“I don’t want to get too deep, because we’ve both had long ass weekends. But I really meant what I said before. We’re all figuring out how to show up for the shit we believe in, and privilege doesn’t mean you can’t get hurt.”

He ran a hand over my cheek, his skin brushing the stubble there. It felt so natural, so right to be with him like this.

When he spoke, he still sounded unsure. “I get what you’re saying, but look at this shit going on in town. Compared to what happened to Ari yesterday, my problems just seem so trivial.”

I sighed at that. “It’s not a competition, Easton. At least it shouldn’t be. My struggle shouldn’t minimize or dismiss yours, no matter how different they are.” I took a moment to take stock of what I was feeling and I really felt no contradictions, not turmoil, about telling him that. “I think that’s at the heart of so much of what’s made us all so disconnected from each other. This fear of naming people’s pain, the energy and the destruction that has been sown just to keep up this farce that we’ve ‘moved on.’ How can we be over what we don’t get to mourn? Isn’t it better to just say, ‘I can see your pain and you can see mine. Let’s find ways to fix both.’”

That was heavy, but it felt good to be able to say it to Easton and to have him hold my words. After a few moments he spoke again, his voice soft and low.

“Thank you.”

I didn’t have to ask why, because I felt the same gratitude. To be here with him, with all the different things happening around us that would deny us this moment.

I turned my head so I could reach his cheek and pressed a kiss there. I let my lips linger, grazing his stubbly chin. He felt so good, always. “You’re welcome. Maybe we can call this a truce?”