Page 116 of Men in Shorts

Andrew hugged him tighter and nodded again.

They lay there together for many minutes without speaking, while outside the sadistically brief afternoon began its long fade into dusk. Andrew listened to the echo of Colin’s heartbeat, and for once it felt like a source of solace instead of worry.

He placed his palm upon Colin’s chest and watched it rise and fall with his breath. “Want to hear something silly?”

“Have you ever said anything but?”

Andrew ignored the jibe. “When I was very small, perhaps three or four years old, I looked at my hand and saw there were five fingers. My family had five people, so I assigned each person a finger.” He tapped each one against Colin’s breastbone as he listed them. “My dad was the thumb, my mum the index, et cetera.”

Colin traced the littlest finger, producing a soothing shiver. “And you were the pinky?”

“Yes, because I was youngest by far. So that night at dinner I showed my family what I’d discovered. I proudly displayed to each person their representative digit.” He paused, waiting for Colin to laugh, which he did.

“Oh please, please tell me you gave your brother the middle finger.”

“Right there at the dining table.” Andrew held it up toward the window.

Colin cackled. “I can just see the four-year-old Lord Andrew flipping off the sixteen-year-old Earl of Ballingry. He must have gone off his head.”

“Completely. I think that was the day he started hating me.”

“George doesnae hate you.”

“Not since I almost got killed. Turns out putting my life in jeopardy was all it took to win my siblings’ approval.” He returned his palm to Colin’s chest. “Wait—I hopeyoudon’t think of my fingers as my family members now. That could ruin hand jobs forever.”

Colin took his hand. “Listen, when this is touching me, that bunch of bampots is the last thing on my mind.” He brought it to his mouth and kissed the tip of the littlest finger. “But now this yin’s my favorite.”

Chapter8

As Colin layawake that night beside Andrew, he found himself replaying every word of their revised victim statements, wondering if they’d said enough to put Jeremy in prison. Ithadto work, after all they’d been through.

Including today. This afternoon’s panic attack had left Colin reeling. How could he have been so stupid and selfish not to know Andrew was troubled too?

Looking back, Colin realized that in some ways, he’d been the lucky one. He remembered little about the stabbing, aside from his desperation to save Andrew and his triumph at succeeding. He’d passed out directly after his wounding, leaving Andrew to watch him bleed, to sit at his bedside for forty-eight hours while Colin loitered obliviously at the border between life and death.

From now on, Colin vowed, he’d be more careful.

He was finally drifting off when he heard Andrew release a loud sigh beside him.

“Cannae sleep?”

“Not without several drinks,” Andrew said, “but it wouldn’t do to be hungover for the first day of lectures.”

Colin was a bit envious—the teaching period at his own university wouldn’t begin for two weeks. On the other hand, he was glad Andrew had something besides booze to occupy his time and mind. “You worried about the new term?”

“God, no. I’ve barely thought of university.” He switched on the bedside table lamp, then rolled to face Colin, tucking his arm beneath his own pillow. “What if the judge gives Jeremy a light sentence—or none at all?”

Then I’ll burn the High Court to the ground.“She won’t.”

“But what if she does?”

“We’ll handle it.” Colin shifted closer. “No matter what, we’ll move on with our lives. We won’t let Jeremy keep hurting us.” He stroked Andrew’s cheek. “Promise?”

Andrew merely sighed, but with the release of breath, he seemed to relax. “I missed us sharing a bed.”

“Me too.” Colin offered a tentative kiss, vigilant for any sudden tension.

Instead of shying away, Andrew slid an arm and a leg around him, bringing their bodies close together. “Also? I loved watching you play yesterday.”

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