Page 30 of Festive Fugitive
He gives me a kiss, then proceeds to disinfect my knuckles with the efficiency of a nurse. “You’re also good, soyoudeserve being taken care of too.”
“Am I?” I ask without thinking, but when he starts wrapping my hand with gauze, I don’t try to stop him or protest.
He’s so damn handsome when he’s focused, with silvery hair falling in his face like fancy thread.
“I don’t know what you’ve been through as a soldier, but you are good to me. I’m a killer, no matter how much of an awful human being Sullivan was. And you think I deserve a clean slate. Why not you?”
He has no idea, and if I have any say in it, he will never find out, so I shake my head and put my arms around his slim form. We have been together like this for only a week, but I already find his scent so calming in its familiarity. It stands for peace, and laughter, and sweet moments in bed, and I can’t imagine ever tiring of it.
“Were you scared of me?”
Eli sighs and holds me close. I don’t recall ever being held like this. A soft hug that’s not foreplay but genuine affection. “A little. You’re a big guy. But it only took me amoment to see you weren’t mad at me. Do you struggle with some kind of PTSD? You must have been through a lot.”
Do I? I have no idea if such ideas can be applied to a life as fucked up as mine, so I shrug and seek the comfort of his warm neck. “Sorry. I’ll do better.”
“You’re allowed to feel things. We’ll work it out.”
My eyes itch in a way I don’t understand until I realize that for the first time in years, I might be almost-crying. It’s like Eli is now pulling the sled and I’m allowed to just sit there and accept his help, tightly wrapped in a warm cocoon.
I feel ridiculous. A man like me—a ruthless killer who took more lives than I can remember—needing to be coddled. I haven’t let myself be like this since my parents left me at Arthur Sullivan’s home all those years ago. A part of me wants to reject Eli’s care, but he’s so focused I fear taking this away from him would be inappropriate.
So I let him lead me to the couch, and then stare at what’s left of the TV while my Eli fetches the food I prepared.
He shuffles about while I focus on the bare wall stretching above the wrecked screen. Is it fair that this is how I’m making Eli spend his favorite holidays when even that maggot Spencer did not deny him Christmas decorations?
“Do you feel happy with me?” I ask when Eli sets a plate in my lap.
He sits next to me and stays silent for a while. My instinct is to feel hurt that he can’t give me an immediate answer, but I appreciate that he takes time to think about my question.
“Yes. The situation is tough, I’m a wanted man, I committed a terrible crime, but withyou, I’m happy. I don’tknow what the future holds, but I want to grab as much joy with you as I can. I love getting to know you, how thoughtful you are, how exciting it is to be with you. You actually listen to me.”
There it is, this kindness I don’t deserve.
Without thinking, I rest my head in his lap and twist my body, so my face is pressed against his stomach. “I’m sorry I said no to your idea of decorating. I wasn’t thinking about what you need then, but we should do it, if you still want that.”
“Oh? You just had such an intense reaction, I didn’t want to pry, especially when you said you grew up in Sullivan’s household. Couldn’t have been very festive, and it is your cabin.” But he’s perked up. He wants this. Of course he does.
I was so selfish to say no.
Arthur Sullivan’s home was decorated like wealthy people’s houses in the movies. That was the first thing I noticed when my parents brought me to him. But while I was playing with a wooden train and stuffing my face with candy cane, they left without a goodbye, and the whole first month in my new master’s charge was painted with the same red, and green, and gold.
“Could we not use traditional colors?” I suggest while he eats, stroking my head as if I were his pet. He even leans down to kiss me between one bite and another.
“Sure. Any you’d like? It’s not like we have a choice here though. We’d be improvising anyway. I was thinking we could use all the old magazines you have to make paper chains, and we could go gather lots of pine cones? You’ve got string and glue as well. We could make some collages, glue them onto cardboard, make a pseudo-gingerbread house!” The excitement resonates in his voice, but withmy head so close to his chest, I hear his heart beating faster too, and I love that its rhythm sounds joyful.
“Yes,” I say, so very eager to please him. I will gladly spend the next few days getting calluses from folding endless amounts of paper. “And you’ll need to choose which tree I should cut down.”
“Christmas was always such a magical time at my home. Especially before my mother died, but I tried to make it work with my Dad too. Maybe if your memories of Christmas aren’t so great, we can make new ones together?” He kisses me ever-so-gently that my toes curl and my knuckles no longer hurt. I know I’ll be fucking him like a beast tonight, yet right now, it’s so good to be coddled a little.
Maybe if I replace the loneliness of the year my parents left me behind, and all the solo Christmases in my past with beautiful Eli moments, I’ll be as excited about next December as he is.
I nod, closing my eyes.
If I could choose to love, if my heart wasn’t made numb by my upbringing, I would be already falling in love with him.
Chapter 12
Eli
