Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 65376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65376 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 327(@200wpm)___ 262(@250wpm)___ 218(@300wpm)
“All of life is just one anything. That’s what makes it interesting. Follow on your course and see what all your anythings are gonna be.”
His hand covers his eyes. “When I see those stitches on your head, Vance, all I hear is you choking on all that blood. I don’t even know what I did.” His words are groans. He moves his hand, and I can see cheeks are streaked with shiny wetness. “I thought you were dead, Vance.”
I move toward him, and he holds his hands out with a shake of his head.
“Every crazy person in a hundred mile radius will always flock to us, and it’s because of me. If you stop seeing me—” his voice cracks— “they’ll forget your face. You can just be normal.”
“That’s faulty logic. You can’t pit two potentialities against each other and say one wins. And also, let me tell you something.” He wipes his face, his nostrils flaring as his jaw tics. “I wasn’t normal. After you, there was no more normal. I saw a therapist. I took up running. I couldn’t forget you and I thought I was insane. No dating, I was just like you: by myself at Christmas, trying to take a bunch of stupid pieces and make them into a whole thing that felt good and like I had some purpose. No girls ever held a candle to you. No guys were you. Over time, I didn’t stalk you online as much, but I wasn’t…fulfilled. I wasn’t peaceful. I was missing something, and that something was you. Not in vogue to say that, is it? Make me sound a little crazy?”
“No,” he whispers. He wipes his cheeks.
“I’m sorry…about the therapist.” His voice is raspy, and he wipes his eyes again.
I laugh. “That was the best part. Therapy is fucking awesome, Sky.”
I lie on my back on the bed, hold my arm open. “Come beside me. Please. I know I look like fucking Frankenstein, but I just want to hold you.”
* * *
Luke
I lay my head against his chest like he asks—the first time I’ve done so since before…what happened. I pull blankets over us, because I know he would if he could. But with me lying on his arm and his other one immobile, he can’t.
I blow my breath out slowly. Then I work the courage up to kiss his shoulder.
He’s looks at me, smiling just a little.
“You’re not going to hurt me, Sky. Put your arm over my chest—up at he top—like over my pecs.” When I don’t do it—I’m so scared I’m going to hurt him—he shifts around so he’s on his side more, and he lays his cheek against my throat.
“Please. Put your arms around me.”
Tears drip down my face as I do. As I hold my favorite boy. “The other boy,” I murmur. He kisses my throat. “When I was little,” I whisper, “that’s the way I thought of it. Who would be the other boy?”
My hand runs over his head, fingertips tracing gently over his new short cut. “I can’t even tell you how…” I exhale slowly.
“How what?”
“How I felt…when I didn’t know.”
“Didn’t know what,” he whispers. I lift my hand that’s behind his head to wipe my eyes and force myself say it. “If you were okay. There was nothing I could do for you while you were in there—” in the hospital. “No money…” I splay my hand out on his nape, shifting him so I can see his face. “Why did you do that, Vance Rayne?”
His lips curl in a sad smile. “I don’t know. But I can guess.”
I know what he’ll say before he says it. “Because I love you.”
Epilogue
Vance
With a concentrated PR effort and the help of Arman—who has a trusted therapist friend that he can vouch for—I talk Sky into talking to somebody. It’s an older dude—who’s gay—so bonus points for that. Sky meets with him on a Friday morning in July. I’m at the townhouse doing a PT appointment. My arm’s thin and scarred, but the PT seems satisfied with what it can do.
“This seems pretty standard for the break you had. You’ll get all your range of motion back, I’d bet.” He gives me a long list of exercises to do while we’re away, and we schedule my next appointment for July 20th. “If you can catch up with my friend Lucy in George Town, whose number I left on your voice mail last week, I think that would be a nice idea, but it’s not what I’d call necessary.”
“I already did. My partner made sure I called, and I’m meeting with her next week.”
He smiles. “Wonderful.”
I show him out via the foyer. Then I get a quick shower and try to finish my packing. We’ll be on C-3PO for two and a half weeks, so it’s mostly swim trunks and sex toys. I’m pulling some new ones off their wall chargers to tuck them away when someone grabs me from behind.