Page 34 of Samuel's Heart

So why am I not saying anything to Rory?

“Yeah, give me a minute to get dressed,” I say to him. And I don’t correct him, because I love how my name sounds on his lips, and how it seems to act as a balm to my wounds.

I rummage inside the bag to find a T-shirt, but I don’t have one to wear to bed. The only one is the one I’ll have to wear tomorrow to travel home. I decide to go without it, and I turn around to face Rory.

I’m not ready for how he looks. His dishevelled hair, his wet, reddened eyes, his heavy breathing making his chest rise and fall quicker than ever, and his trembling hands resting on his bent knees. Nothing, not even a danger to my life, could have stopped me from reaching out to him.

I walk towards him without looking away because I don’t want him thinking I’m rejecting him. There is nothing I want more than having him in my arms right now. It may be wrong, but something in him calms this guilt I have inside me. The guilt that’s eating me from the inside.

When I reach the bed, he turns his head around to follow, until I’m next to him. He doesn’t move and I don’t move either, as if this is the moment everything between us changes. Then,uncaring of my injuries, I crouch down and place one arm under his bent legs and one around his middle, and pull him up and away from the headboard. The look of surprise would have made me laugh if it wasn’t for the tears running down his cheeks and stealing my breath away. I lean in and, with my lips, wipe it away, and I love the way he leans towards me as if looking for more. But this is not the right moment, and maybe we’ll never have one. Today is for comfort and not for meaningless sex.

My hip complains, reminding me I shouldn’t have picked him up, but he looked so fragile. I place him back on the bed with his head on the pillow, then I climb onto the bed and place myself behind him, caging him with my legs and arms, pulling him backwards until his back is plastered to my front. I’d love to look at him to make sure he’s okay, but his facing me could break my willpower and I would kiss him without even intending to.

“Are you comfortable?”

When Rory nods, his hair brushes over my lips and I lean in to place a kiss on the back of his head, trying to convey how proud I am of him, and how in awe I am for the strength he’s shown since I met him. How he’s not alone, how he can rely on me to be here for him.

A shiver passes through his body at my touch, making me wish we weren’t in this situation. Wish we were two different people. People without problems. And wish we could build something together.

Rory pushes more against me, so I pull him even closer. I grit my teeth to avoid letting out a grunt of pain because I don’t want him to move away from me.

“I miss him so much.”

He doesn’t have to say his name because I know, and can see it whenever he talks or thinks about him. His face is a mix of love, longing, and remorse. I understand the first two emotions, but why remorse?

What is he hiding?

“I know, Ro.” What the fuck? Ro? Where is that even coming from? And why is it making my insides melt with the need to squeeze him close?

“Why did I have to lose him?”

What can I say to that? How can I help him when I’m not able to help myself?

What words can take away the pain and the guilt you feel when the person you care about is taken away from you, and even worse, when it’s your fault?

I push those thoughts away because there’s nothing I can do, not for him and not for me. What I can do is be here, so I tighten my arms around him, glad when he lets out a long breath and then relaxes against me.

His head comes to rest on my shoulder, and I lean towards him and place my cheek against his temple. He turns towards me, and his wet eyelashes brush against me, and I want nothing more than to kiss them, but I resist the impulse. Nothing good would come from bedding him. Not here, and not now.

“You know the name of that place?”

“Yeah.” I hope he’s talking about Ian’s café.

“That’s what John used to call me when it was just the two of us.”

Fuck! My heart breaks for him.

“I used to lie on his legs, and he used to caress my hair until I was calmer, or until I could stop crying. And in between caresses, he used to whisper that name. ‘My heart.’”

Now, I understand the reason behind his behaviour when we got there.

How was it, being loved by someone like John? Someone ready to support and make you feel important.

“That’s a beautiful name.”

“I didn’t deserve that. Because I was never fully in. I was always waiting for the other shoe to drop.” He’s sobbing now as what I think is guilt takes over, and I’m tempted to turn him around and hug him close. Instead, he turns around and hides his face in my neck. His breath is fanning me, but his tears running down my skin keep me grounded in the moment.

“I’m sorry I nearly broke my promise, and I’m sorry for staring at Ian and nearly breaking the rules. I just wanted to get a glimpse of the man that still lives because of John. I wanted to talk to him for a second. I needed to see if John was there, inside him, somewhere. I needed a chance to touch him again, knowing he was there for me. Knowing I wasn’t alone.”

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