“No washing your hands. That’s theotherhalf of the rehabilitation process you mentioned. It’s not justtouching doorknobs. It’s resisting the urge to wash up immediately after.”
Tears prick in my eyes. “How long is immediately?”
“If I had to guess, it’s as long as I want it to be.” He reels me in, traps me in the space between his parted legs. “I’m rather addicted to this expression.”
My stomach knots. “Do you…only like me because I’m easy to hurt?”
“Perish the thought.” He swipes his glove beneath my eye, catches a tear, and draws the droplet to his lips. “I’ll admit. I’m an unsavory personality, and I enjoy going too far in my teasing, but nothing elevates my soul like your smile.” He circles an arm around my waist. “Two minutes,” he murmurs. “Wait two minutes with me. Relax. And…if your brain is telling you you’regoing to die…tell it you’d like nothing better than to die in my arms.”
I shudder, and my body caves on itself, drawing nearer to him in the process. “How…will we know when two minutes are up?”
“Stove clock.”
I glance past the island at it.
His hold tightens. “I’ll watch. You…settle.”
Easier said than done.
Logically, IknowI’m fine, but logic has seldom helped me where it’s concerned the things my brain convinces me I have to do to stay safe. The memories that appear and haunt me when I break rules are unbearable. They’re bleak, dark, and blurry. More a trepidatious sensation than anything I can grasp a hold of, or fight.
Whyam I like this?
I don’t know why I’m like this.
No one else is like this.
And they’re all fine.
Malcolm’s fine.
I want to be fine, too.
Squeezing my eyes shut, I melt, letting my body fall into his and my face rest on his shoulder. Bare skin to dark fabric.
Bare skin. Dark fabric.Bare skin. Dark fabric.
Bare to dark.
Bare, bare, bare.
Dark, dark,dark.
Amid the repeating pound of words in my head, a horrible thought grips me:
What ifIdon’t die because of this?
What ifhedoes?
The fear comes unbidden and violent and irrational. I know it’s irrational. I know that I’vetriedto kill this man and failed.Surely, I’m not going to kill him accidentally. That wouldn’t just be stupid, it’d be a cruel joke. And I know better than to think that the universe is an entity capable of performing such acts of comedy.
Still, it’s painful and scary, and I don’t know what to do.
So I just stand there. Choking on my worries. Drowning in the things I’ve never been able to escape.
“Two minutes are up,” Malcolm says, gently, and the stability of his arms vanishes.
Shaking, I cling. Then, as a tear soaks into his dark shirt, I whisper, “Two…more.”
