It is a selfish thought brought on by the pain and reminder of my mortality, but it lingers, especially when he stands. “I’ll let you rest.” He goes to leave, and panic courses through me so suddenly I gasp, my arm darting out to grab his wrist. He freezes but doesn’t look at me, and I hate it.
I’m a cruel asshole, but I have the insane thought that if he walks out the door now, I’ll lose him forever.
“Don’t go,” I whisper. I’m giving him mixed signals, but right now, I don’t care.
I’m scared and in pain, and he’s the only thing that makes it better.
His eyes finally land on me, and I feel like I only exist in his gaze, and I’m okay with that.
He hesitates when before, he wouldn’t have, reminding himself of everything that happened, and I can’t have that. Gripping his wrist tighter, I yank, and he yelps as he falls against me, sprawling across my chest. I inhale his calming scent tinted with oil as I wrap my arms around him and trap him with my legs. He stops struggling, placing his hand on my chest.
“Stay,” I beg. “I’ll let you go when the pain disappears. Until then, just stay here like this. I won’t ask for anything else.”
His warmth seeps into me, and he doesn’t look at me, but his voice is soft and hurt. “You’re so mean.”
“I know,” I agree as I press my lips to his head before closing my eyes.
Mackie doesn’t protest, but he’s stiff. When he realizes I won’t let him go, he relaxes, spread across me like my favorite comforter.
I soak in the feeling of him in my arms, wanting to remember every single second of this.
We don’t speak, neither of us knowing what to say. We know it doesn’t change anything. I can’t have him, and he’s found someone else, but for a stolen moment, he’s mine and I’m his.
I hold him for as long as I can, long after the pain has vanished.
Long after I know I should let him go and get back to work.
I hold him and hope it isn’t the last time.
SEVENTEEN
It’s a Saturday, and I would usually be working, but after yesterday with Noah, I feel the need for some distance. When I managed to slip from his arms, he was deep asleep. I wanted to hate him, but seeing the tension between his eyebrows even when he was asleep . . . I couldn’t.
I’m so confused, caught between my feelings for someone I can never have and blossoming feelings for someone new, so I go to the only place I know will make me feel better—home.
I pull my car up outside of the blue, two-story house. The windows are open, and the wraparound porch reminds me of hours I spent there, rewatching Noah’s races when my grandma was asleep. Nothing has changed. The flowers are still perfectly pruned, the grass is trimmed to perfection, and the house shines brightly in the sun . . . apart from the flag.
That’s new.
I step out of my car and pull off my glasses, tucking them into my neckline as the front door opens and my grandma steps out. Her familiar, wide smile brightens her face. She still looks the same to me as she always did, but I notice she’s more hunched and has new wrinkles, and the reminder of time passing kills me as I hurry up the path and intoher arms. Her floral perfume comforts me like nothing else. Her makeup is glittery today and matches how cute she looks in her long, floral skirt and matching top. She has never acted her age, and I hope I look as good as her when I’m old.
“You always know,” I tease.
“The car door is a sound that’s as familiar as my own heartbeat. It means my son is home.” She cups my cheeks as she pulls away. “You look tired and skinny. Come on, let’s eat.”
I laugh as I loop my arm through hers. “You know the way to my heart. What’s with the flag?” I nod at the huge flag hanging off the porch. It’s a rainbow one and so large, I could see it from space. My grandma has always known about my sexuality. Hell, she marches with me during Pride week. When I first told her, I was terrified, but she simply looked into my eyes and told me she always knew and that the tenth time I made her watchThe Mummyin one week was what had clued her into it. That’s who she is, someone willing to do anything to make me happy.
She took me in after my parents died without a single word of protest. She put her retirement on hold, took in an angry child, and gave him the world, and I will always be thankful for everything she did for me.
“My neighbors were being twat waffles about this nice new lesbian couple who moved in two doors down, so I’m making my side clear.” She turns, and my sweet little granny cups her mouth. “You hear that, Dennis, you old fuck? I’m with the lesbians. They have the right idea. Go back to your wrinkly balls and weird obsession with your flowers and leave them alone!”
I gawk as my grandma shouts, looking next door to see Dennis in a droopy hat with a flower in his hand, staring back at us. “Stop it, Joy!” Dennis’s wife yells from inside the house. “This is a cultured neighborhood?—”
“Fuck you, Sharon, and your shitty peach cobbler!”
I laugh so hard it hurts as I help her inside before the police are called. I can’t help smiling as she putters around the kitchen, cooking as she grumbles about prejudiced idiots. I lean against the wall andwatch her, knowing how lucky I got. Sighing, I wrap my arms around her from behind, resting my head on her shoulder.
“What’s this?” she grumbles.
