Page 42 of Light

Tyler chatters away about a new video game he has been playing, proudly showing Light a sloppy drawing of a character he made up. Light crouches down, giving Tyler his full attention, like he is presenting blueprints for NASA or something.

Watching them together does something dangerous to me.

There is a tight, aching kind of warmth blooming in my chest.

Tyler has never had anyone around like this before. His father was there when he was younger, but now he's only a memory.

And Light, this rough, tough, completely inappropriate-for-me man, is sliding into our lives so easily it terrifies me.

I busy myself in the kitchen pretending to straighten up while I sneak glances at them.

At the way Light ruffles Tyler’s hair without hesitation.

At the way Tyler beams up at him like he hung the moon.

My body betrays me as I watch.

Every glance, every deep rumble of Light’s laugh, every way he says my son’s name with such ease sets my skin on fire.

I am not just emotionally tangled anymore.

There are very real, very lustful, very inappropriate thoughts running wild in my mind.

Thoughts that have no business taking root.

Thoughts that feel way too good to ignore.

After Tyler’s nightly breathing treatment and a quick bedtime story courtesy of Light, who has absolutely no skill at reading but makes up for it with ridiculous voices, we finally get Tyler settled in for the night.

The house falls quiet, thick with the kind of silence that wraps around you and makes me feel things I know I shouldn't.

Light flops down on the couch and pats the spot next to him.

I hesitate for a second before crossing the room and sitting down, keeping just enough space between us to pretend it is safe.

He tilts his head back against the cushion, eyes closed, looking almost relaxed.

Almost.

"You alright?" I ask softly.

He opens one eye and looks at me.

The bruises on his knuckles catch my attention again.

"I am good," he says after a beat. "Better now."

The words are simple, but the way he says them, the way he looks at me when he does, feels anything but simple.

My heart taps a frantic beat against my ribs.

The tension stretches tight between us, humming in the air like a live wire.

Neither of us moves.

Neither of us speaks.

The heat is unbearable.

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