Page 99 of Into These Eyes
My heart constricts. Of course he wants his independence. That’s his end goal. And I desperately want that for him. That’s what I’m fighting for. To free him from the shackles my father ensnared him in.
But as images of coming home to an empty house, of eating alone, of not feeling his eyes on me, burst into my mind, I’m hit with the realisation that what I want for him, will mean losing what I want for myself.
His presence has added a richness to my life I hadn’t known was missing. The more time I spend with him, the more attached I grow. I don’t want it to end.
Plastering on a smile, I reluctantly remove my hand from that beating life inside his chest. Pushing down a feeling I can’t quite grasp, I say, “The day will come when you have all of those things.” He tilts his head slightly, like he’s seeing straight through me.
“One thing I do have control over is the ability to endure. No matter how long it takes.”
“I don’t know how you did it,” I murmur. “You’re so strong, Gavin. I couldn't have … I don't think I could have survived. At least, not the way you have.”
“I’m sure you would have. I’m nobody special.”
Yes, you are. You’re special to me.
I keep my mouth shut and swallow over the lump in my throat.
He might only be in my house because of that threatening note, but that’s not why I want him here anymore. Sure, he makes me feel safe, secure and comfortable. It’s the other things he makes me feel that have me wanting to get closer to him, to know him on a deeper level. Intimately. In every way.
“So, why haven’t you started your own practice already?” he asks, startling me out of my head.
“Oh, I … ah … The timing’s never been right.”
“Are you waiting for that moment when life stands still?”
I blink at him. “I’m waiting for that moment when I’m not drowning in responsibilities.”
Concern clouds his eyes. “I hope I’m not one of them.”
“God no.” That’s the last thing I want him to believe. “You … you make me feel like I can breathe again.”
As our eyes hold, a new energy shifts between us.
“That’s some compliment,” he murmurs.
My face heats as every hair follicle on my scalp prickles.
The moment’s so intense, I glance away, my gaze falling on the oven clock. It’s far too early to go to bed. He’ll know I’m running away. And I don’t want to run anywhere. What I want, is to spend more time with him.
“Do you, ah … want to watch something on TV?” I ask.
Half an hour later, we’re sitting on the couch, tears streaming down our faces, stomachs aching, as an old Frasier episode comes to an end.
Swiping at his eyes, he turns to me. “You have any photos or home movies? I’d love to see what you were like as a kid.”
I smile. I haven’t looked at them since Mum’s death. I’ve been too afraid that the filter I’ll see her through will destroy the memories in my head. But the idea of revisiting those images with Gavin at my side sends that fear fluttering away.
After retrieving my tablet, I sit next to him, and as it powers up, I try to remember Anika’s instructions on how to cast the screen to the TV. Before I get the chance, Gavin rests an arm over the back of the couch behind me, his eyes fixed on the tablet.
Well, maybe I can’t remember how to do that casting thingy. Unlike the TV, the tablet demands we sit close. Sliding over a little, I position myself so we’re almost touching.
“You’re so lucky to have all of this,” he says. “We had videos and photos, too. But for me, they’re gone. I’d love to see Mum again. She’s faded away so much.”
My heart creaks on its axis, straining toward him with empathy. Although I haven’t looked at these in so long, I’ve always known they’re here, waiting. It’s one thing to avoid them, but knowing they were gone forever would be gut-wrenching.
“Your father … wouldn’t he have them?”
With his gaze fixed on the tablet screen, he shrugs. “Whether he does or doesn’t, I’ll never know.”
