Page 51 of Don't Tell

"Now."

I remove my uniform. Then his boxers.

We don't make it to bed the first time.

The second time, we do.

The third time, the lamp gets knocked off the nightstand, and we leave it on the floor. At some point, we are calling each other's names into the dark, and the next instant, I'm against his chest with his hand in my hair and a single low lamp on across the room. Then the world is narrowed to the warm flat of his ribs under my cheek and the slow drum of his heart under my ear.

He says my name.

"Suzanne."

"Mmm…"

"What do you want?"

"What?"

"What do you actually want? Not from me, but for your life."

I'm quiet.

Nobody has asked me this in years. Nobody has asked me in a way that was waiting for a real answer. Renée has tried, Carmen has tried, and both times I've said something quick that closed the door before they could push it.

He is not pushing.

He asks, then lets the question hang. The silence is louder than the words. He has all the time in the world. He won't fill it for me.

I don't say something quickly.

I look at the slow rise of his chest under my hand.

"I think you know the answer already. There's a small community art school in Santa Rosa. They take twenty students a year for the painting program. That’s what I want."

“How much is it?”

I shoot him a glare. "I don’t want you to pay for it."

“Why won’t you just let me do this for you? I’m here. I want to. Take advantage of me.”

“I’m not taking your money, Cade. Stop talking about this.”

“Fine. If you won’t take my money, then at least take my connections. I know people.”

"Cade."

"Hear me out. I can put you in front of someone who doesn’t work for me. You won’t owe me anything. Your work will do the talking on its own. The only thing I’ll do is find that person.”

"You'd still be helping me. If they take me on, it’ll be because of you. I want to do this on my own."

"All I’ll do is make the introduction. After that, you're on your own. You wouldn't be able to tell I had anything to do with it."

I'm quiet again.

He slowly moves his hand in my hair.

"Please." It's the first time I've heard him use the word. "Please listen to me. Let me help. Let me find the right person for you. Trust me to do that."