J.R. Whittington

When Marcus dropped the pills and heard drums that weren't his heartbeat, he saw memories that weren't his life—and suddenly knew his husband was the only thing standing between him and death.

What happened next was like falling into a river that had been waiting your whole life to carry you home. Richardson tasted salt and sweetness on Finch's lips, tasted freedom and something holier than Sunday morning. And when Finch whispered his name like it was something sacred, Richardson's body opened like a flower blooming in darkness.