Page 39 of Catch of a Lifetime
I gasped and pushed back, gripping his biceps for balance.
“Oh.Oh, thank god.” I tore off my gardening gloves and reached out a tentative fingertip. I paused before touching his side, glancing up to check his face.
His eyes were on mine, watching me with hungry patience. He gave a tiny grunt and lifted his chin.
Taking it as permission, and keeping my gardening-grubby mitts just clear of making contact, I traced the ghosts of thewounds that I’d fretted over when he was drying out and starving in my bed.
When I’d thought I was helping him, caring for him, tending to him.
When I’d been making it worse.
He lifted my face and touched a thumb gently to the corner of each eye.
I sniffed and let go of him to stuff a hand into my pocket and grab a tissue. I blew my nose loudly, stuffed the tissue away, and blew out a breath. “Are you better?” I asked. “You look better.”
He sighed and stood, taking me with him.
I was out of practice at being manhandled. Startled, I yelped and thrashed in his arms. He juggled me calmly and set me down with only a small wince. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Did that hurt? Sorry.” I hovered my hands uselessly over his torso.
He caught them and held them between us.
I think I knew then that he hadn’t come over to say,Good news! I’m all better! Get naked.
Normally, if he grabbed my hands, it was to pin them to the ground or the mattress or the wall beside my head. If not that, then he’d be directing me to grab his dick, or his arse.
He never stood before me with a sorrowful look in his eyes and held them clasped between his.
Which wasn’t to say he never stood in front of me and stared at me with that sorrowful look in his eyes, because he did. Every year.
Every autumn.
On the day he left me.
“No,” I said, then said it again, louder, as if that would help. “No.”
He chuffed softly.
“No, Dave. I haven’t…we’ve barelyseeneach other. It’s June! It’s too soon. Don’t leave me.”
He moved his grip to hold both of my hands in one of his, lifting the other to cup my chin. His head tilted as he gazed down at me.
“Please don’t go.”
I’d never come out and asked him. I’d never said this to him. I hadn’t, because I knew that he had to go, and I knew that he’d stay if I asked. I knew that it would do terrible things to him if he stayed. If he didn’t outright die, he’d suffer.
I didn’t want him to suffer for me.
But it wasn’t fair. “This isn’tfair.” I yanked at my hands, trying to pull them out of his grip.
He sighed, the deep resonance rippling over my skin like a soothing stroke. The fingers he had curled under my chin rubbed gently before he let my jaw go.
As soon as he did, I craned away from him and yanked again. Anger surged up out of nowhere, hot and white. “Get off me,” I said.
It was a hundred times worse than when he’d rebuffed me in bed. Athousandtimes.
The soothing sound he made in return did nothing other than fan the flames.
“If you don’t…if you won’tstayfor me, for even another month, then you can fuck off right now. Just go. Go, Dave!”
