He slammed the mirrored door of his closet and turned away. He didn’t want to do this. The party was at the art museum, and he’d think of nothing but that final night with Dash. He couldn’t cancel though. Peggy had asked him to say a few words to the other donors. And Kathryn would be there. They’d been spending a lot more time together, and he’d managed to convince her to do some work for the membership committee. She would help him get through the night.

Thorne glanced at the clock. Time to go. When he got to the lobby, he remembered that he hadn’t checked his mail the night before. There was a card in his box. The envelope was red, making him think it was a holiday card, but it had no return address. He was about to stash it in his jacket pocket when something made him change his mind and open it. On the front was a picture of three camels crossing the desert, presumably carrying the three wise men. Inside, there was a holiday message, but he ignored it and read the words written in an angular scrawl. “End his dry spell before Susan or I kill him. He deserves a Merry Christmas.” It was signed Marc.

Thorne’s heart pounded so hard he feared he might keel over. There was no question who “he” was. Holy fuck! Marc was telling Thorne to go after Dash. But it had been less than a month since he’d seen Dash at the club, and Dash had said he couldn’t be around Thorne.

His eyes said something different.

No. Thorne was going to respect what he said. He tore the card and threw it in the trashcan by the lobby doors. The little pieces fluttered, some catching on the rim. Thorne immediately began to reconsider. Dry spell? Did that truly mean Dash hadn’t been with anyone else? He’d assumed Dash had taken someone home from the club the night they saw each other, that he’d been hooking up routinely. If he hadn’t, then was he hurting too? Could they heal each other?

***