“Yes.”
He settled against me again.
“Cal.”
I closed my eyes.
“Careful.”
“Why?”
“Because you used that voice when you wanted something.”
“What do I want?”
“I have no idea.”
“Maybe this.”
His right hand found mine.
We watched rain instead of the film.
His breathing gradually deepened.
“You need bed,” I said.
“Always.”
“Yes.”
“I hate it.”
“I know.”
He remained against me another minute.
Then he asked, “What would you change?”
“About what?”
“Us. If we started again.”
The question required honesty he might not have the energy to hear.
“Small things.”
“Tell me.”
“I would leave work earlier.”
His thumb moved across mine.
“I would stop treating every problem at the yard as if only I could solve it.”
“Caleb would like that.”
“He would misuse the freedom.”
