Page 147 of Redeeming 6

“Properly,” I urged, cracking my knuckles nervously. “Privately.”

Shrugging lifelessly, he released a pained breath, but didn’t respond.

“Can we hang out this evening?”

“I have to work. I’ve already missed a week. I can’t skip any more.”

“What about tomorrow?”

He didn’t respond.

“I wanted to know if you had plans at lunchtime on Friday,” I heard myself croak out, palms sweating, as panic filled me. “Because there’s some place I need to be and I was, uh, well, I was really hoping that you could come with me.”

More silence.

“Joe?”

Jerking upward, he looked around himself, seemingly startled, before slumping back down on his elbows. “Hmm?”

“Do you have plans on Friday?”

“I, ah, I don’t know,” he mumbled, sounding beyond exhausted. “I’m not sure.”

“Well, are you busy at lunch today?” I tried instead. “I mean, do you have training or anything like that happening? Because I really need to talk to you in private about something.”

“I don’t want to talk in private,” he replied quietly. “Not today, Molloy.”

“But you don’t even know what I want to talk to you about,” I squeezed out. “It’s important.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to talk about it right now.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m too fucking tired, Molloy.”

“You have to know I didn’t mean it,” I blurted out, addressing the elephant in the room. “All of that shit I spurted out the last time we were together? It wasn’t me, Joe.”

He stiffened.

“I didn’t mean it, okay?” Reaching up, I placed a hand on his back, frowning when I felt the heat emanating from his body. Jesus, he was burning up. “I swear, Joe. Not one word of it.”

“Yeah, you did.” The muscles in his back coiled tight under my touch. “And it’s okay. I don’t blame you.”

“I don’t blame you for what happened, Joe,” I told him, feeling achingly vulnerable in this moment. “And I don’t want space. I never want space from you.”

“Neither do I,” he replied quietly. “But just because we don’t want something doesn’t mean that we don’t need it.”

Anxiety churned inside of me. “What does that mean?”

“It means what it means, Molloy.”

“Look at me.”

He didn’t.

“Joe.”

“Just let it go, Molloy.”

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