“I left her behind,” he whispers again.
I have no idea whosheis.
A sister, perhaps? A friend?
Maybe a lover.
Someone who once meant the world to him.
Has the storm awakened a ghost?
I cradle him again, not sure what to say.
“You did what you had to do,” I say. “I'm sure she knew that.”
Steamy water continues to flow across our skin.
We huddle beneath it until the storm loses its sting.
“Let's get you dry and cosy,” I say, bundling him in a thick fluffy towel.
Our skin glows blue as a new song appears on the screen.
The melody soon eclipses all that exists beyond these four walls.
When he turns, the towel slips from his shoulder.
I notice the scars as I often do, trying to avert my eyes.
Who did this to you, baby?
The question has echoed in my mind for months.
With a tender kiss above his brow, I dab his hair dry.
Those three words hover on my lips.
I love you. I love you more than you know.
But I hold my tongue.
For now.
Don't scare him with commitment when he's already shaken, I decide.
We don’t need words.
Not tonight.
All we need is each other.
So instead, I draw a heart on bare skin with my finger.
And Marco, eyes raised to meet mine, draws a heart on my chest too.
the fifteenth chapter
MARK
