Page 19 of Falling Faster
"Where to?"
"The bedroom." His lips curve in a sexy smile. "What we did last night deserves a repeat performance."
The afternoon sun is high and hot, beaming in a cloudless sky. Being dressed as the Flash tickles me. I hustle with Craig along the crosswalk in front of Children's Hospital's main entrance, my nerves swarming my system. The doors open and we step into the cool relief of air conditioning.
At the foundation, when I'd selected the costume and met the volunteers, I was briefed on the workings of a usual visit, but not knowing exactly how everything will go, and worry over the possibility of failing to make the kids happy, knots my stomach.
The rest of the volunteer group files in behind us. We traveled together from the foundation's headquarters in acaravan of three cars with the foundation's logo. Dressed in colorful costumes, they are a happy, exuberant team and welcomed me with a level of inclusion I, a newcomer known to be here for only one visit, hadn't expected.
We gather by the security desk and wait for the hospital staff person who coordinated the visit.
Craig, dressed in a Superman costume, turns toward me and links our hands together. "I'm really glad you're here."
"Me too. I hope I do a good job." I glance down at my costume. "And I hope there aren't any occurrences of Hurricane Ty. Banging into something in one of the rooms could potentially be really bad."
"You'reSuperheroTy today." Craig's voice is gentle and his hold on my hand tightens. "And you're nowhere near the walking disaster you labeled yourself when we met."
Glad my costume hides the flush of heat creeping over my neck and face, I shrug. "I was a pretty accident-prone kid, so I earned that nickname back then."
"Other than the display table, have you had anything else happen lately?"
I click through my mental file. "Nothing that big. Nothing that required medical attention for myself or caused damage to someone else. Not in years."
"There you go, then." With a smile, he bumps our shoulders together. "Relax. This visit will be fun. And no matter what happens,I'm here."
Those last two words shroud me in protection and ease my worries. And make me fall harder for the man. I squeeze his hand. "My hero."
The clicking of heels on the tiled floor announce the coordinator's arrival. After we volunteers are approved by hospital security, we begin our rounds from room to room. Sticking close to Craig, I greet the patients and parents, pose forphotos, and help hand out activity packets. I love the children's reactions to our costumes. My favorite is the huge, professional body builder painted green like the Hulk.
In every room, Craig speaks to parents and children with an ease I envy. While he chats, I do quick sketches of any character the children request. The smiles I receive are priceless.
Watching Craig throughout the afternoon raises my opinion of him even more. Not every man would give up hours of his weekend to volunteer, and pour himself so wholeheartedly into the role. Craig is someone special, and my chest pinches as our time together hurls faster and faster toward its end.
We wrap up our visit with a group photo of all the volunteers and members of the hospital staff who coordinated the visit.
After the photo is taken, Craig pulls me aside and holds up his phone. "Take a selfie with me?"
"Great idea. I want one on my phone, too." I pull my phone from a side pocket sewn into my suit. "This is the first time I've ever been in a hero costume. I'm always a villain."
"Really? Even back when you were a kid?"
"Even then." Huddling in close, I smile at our image on his screen. We look good together. Better than good, we look perfect.
The passage of time weighs heavy on my mind as we return to the foundation, and as I bid goodbye to the costume and the other volunteers, and again during the drive with Craig to my hotel. Meeting him Friday afternoon, our time together at the coffee shop and the bar, searching for comic books together on Saturday, then lunch, exploring the city, dinner, the concert, sex, sleeping together, waking up this morning to Craig on guitar, making pancakes, the piano lesson, the hospital visit… all of it, every single moment has spun by so fast. Every passing minute is too easily visualized as sand slipping through an hourglass.
We stop at a red light. Craig lays his hand on my thigh. "You're quiet."
I manage a smile. "Just looking at the scenery." And thinking. So much thinking.
"What time is your flight tomorrow morning?" The tentative question pokes into the heart of my musings. His posture tightens, as though he's bracing himself for the answer, and knowing in advance he isn't going to like it.
Maybe I'm not the only one sad about our time together coming to an end. "We have to be at the airport by six."
"Damn, that's early. I wish you were taking a flight later in the day." With a gentle squeeze, Craig turns his attention back to the road. The light changes to green, and he leaves his hand on my thigh as he drives. The weight is comforting and breaks my heart a little more. No way do I want to get on that plane. After a few minutes, I lace our fingers together. His hand feels so good, and so right, in mine.
The hotel comes into view and my stomach fills with dread. I'm not ready to say goodbye. My hand tightens around his. The car rolls slowly through the crowded parking lot.
Unsure of whether he intends to stop by the entrance and drop me off, or find a space, I twist toward him, drinking in his profile. The car turns down one row and then he swings into a space near the middle of the lot. He gently extracts his hand from my grip and turns off the engine.
