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“I feel like I’m hugging a rock.” Ian pulled back but kept his hands on Alek’s knees.
“What’s allowed and what’s not?” Alek eyed Ian’s hands. “You’re touching me now, but is it because you want to or because you feel obligated to?”
“Nothing’s not allowed. If I do something, it’s because I want to do it. But if I tell you to stop, do what you did today. Listen to me and stop.”
That was a lot to ask. There was only so much threat of rejection Alek could tolerate.
“I think we should take sex and other such spelunking off the table. Consider us queer fiancés that are saving themselves for marriage.” He cackled mirthlessly and grabbed a hold of the rail to pull himself up.
Ian followed. “You still didn’t answer my question. How can I fix this?”
Alek opened the front door, and nudged aside the shards of broken glass and scattered coins with the tip of his shoe, ignoring Ian’s questioning look.
“Some things are too broken to be fixed,” Alek said. “We’ll have to wait and see if this is one of them.”
29
ALEK
ONE WEEK LATER
Dr. Modorovic’s office was in a red brick building that faced the harbor. The waiting room was empty. Ian pulled a paperback out of his back pocket and plopped down into a loveseat. Alek leaned against the wall.
“Come sit with me.” Ian patted the space beside him.
“I’d rather not. We don’t know what that couch has seen. Countless brain-addled patients in various states of incontinence, I assume. No. I’ll stand right here.”
“It’s perfectly clean.”
Alek ignored him.
The tension between them—sexual, and otherwise—was tangible. Each night, Alek respected the new imaginary line between Ian’s side of the bed and his. Ian started the night off with similar intentions, but always migrated closer and closer to Alek while he was sleeping. Meanwhile, Alek ended up scrunched at the very edge of the bed, wide awake until he conceded defeat to insomnia and went to play the piano. Sometimes he fell asleep on the couch after. Most of the time he kept playing until Ian came down in the morning.
Despite Ian’s reservations about sex, he was unceasing in hisefforts to rekindle their physical intimacy. Ian reached out for Alek’s hand when they were walking side by side. He sidled up next to him at the piano bench.
Alek had to watch his back when they were in the kitchen. Ian hadaccidentallypinned him against the counter in an effort to reach an object on a high shelf on more than one occasion. Alek hadn’t rebuffed Ian’s affections, but he hadn’t initiated either, and he wouldn’t.
Not until Ian was sure that he was ready.
Dr. Modorovic strode through the door in a white coat that drowned her petite frame. “Alek Katin!”Her dark eyes sparkled with fondness as she took his hand in both of hers.
Alek was surprised by the shadow of delight that bloomed in his chest upon seeing her. Maybe they could go for brunch after he recovered completely. Was that allowed?
She nodded at Ian. “Will you be joining us?”
“Yes, ma’am.” Ian pocketed his book and followed.
She ushered them through the door, down a hallway of empty exam rooms, and into her office.
“Is business slow?” Alek asked as he lowered into a leather armchair across from an oversized live edge desk. Ian joined him in the other chair armchair.
“Today’s one of my paperwork days,” she explained, sitting behind the desk. “I thought it best if we didn’t have to rush.”
She flipped open a chart.
“Your CT scan results were excellent. Most of the blood in your brain has been reabsorbed and the contusion is healing. How have your symptoms been?”
“Abating. Some nausea, rare vertigo. Occasional headaches, but nothing I can’t handle.”
