Page 20 of Burning Bridges Duet

I sit in bed with my head in my hands crying, when there is a hesitant knock on my door. I glance at the clock and see that it’s two-thirty. Fuck, I ruined Gunner’s sleep again.

I get to the door but pause, looking down myself to check my appearance. I’m wearing a T-shirt and long sleep pants, so I grab a sweater from the floor and pull it over my head before finally opening the door. Gunner is standing there in his suit, looking like he just came home from work.

“Livy.” He says my name with so much compassion in his voice, looking at me intently with sad eyes.

The nickname, one only those closest to me called me in my past, makes me sob all over again, and he pulls me into his arms. He bends down and lifts me with one arm under my butt, then steps inside while closing the door with his shoulder. He goes to my bed and sits down, arranging me in his lap like a child.

“Shh. I just came home from a job and heard you sobbing. Had a bad dream again?”

I nod into his shoulder, and he strokes my head gently.

“Want to talk about it?”

I shake my head.

“Can you get back to sleep?”

I shake my head again. “But you should try to go to sleep. It seems like you had a long day,” I whisper.

“As if I could go to sleep knowing you are hurting right next door.”

I lean back a bit to look him in the face, and he gently wipes away a tear with his thumb.

“Want to watch a movie? Maybe something boring so you fall back asleep?” he suggests.

“You’ll stay with me?” I ask, feeling vulnerable.

“Of course I’ll stay, Livy.”

He lifts me off his lap and stands to take off his shoes and blazer, folding it neatly by the door, then he gets back onto my bed, lying above the covers. He turns down the comforter next to him, inviting me to snuggle in. I curl up next to him, and he reaches for the TV remote. I lean into him, and he wraps his arms around me. As the TV starts, it goes back to a YouTube video I was watching for an assignment about salsa dancing.

“Oh, wow, salsa with European influences—interesting. Don’t tell me you’re into Latin dances too?” Gunner asks, looking down at me.

“Too?” I ask, confused, and he blushes.

“Yeah, I love salsa and bachata, but tango is cool as well. I just think it’s got a stigma in the US.”

My mouth nearly falls open. Gunner is into dance.

“Woah, wait a second. Why don’t I know that?” I ask.

He chuckles. “It’s not as if we know each other well, Livy.” He’s right. It just feels like we do, but we don’t know each other at all.

“Okay, so tell me—how is a big burly manly man like you into Latin dancing?” I ask, and Gunner chuckles at my question.

“I just love the rhythm and energy, plus it’s a great way to stay in shape. I take some classes here and there,” he says, flexing his arm, and I can’t help but laugh.

“I had no idea you were such a dancer,” I say, shaking my head.

“Well, I don’t think I’m that good, but I do enjoy it,” he replies with a grin. “Honestly, I’ve enjoyed all kinds of dances since I was a teenager. I wanted to be a dancer someday, but I come from an army family, and that just wasn’t an option. In the eyes of my father, male dancers are all gay, and he couldn’t have a gay son, now, could he?” Gunner looks at his hand, frowning.

I place my hand over his, and he looks up at me, surprised by the contact. “I’m sorry, that must have been hard for you.”

“It’s fine. I’ve learned to live with it,” he replies, shaking his head, but I recognize that he’s uncomfortable with the conversation, so I change the topic.

“Did you know my major is dance?”

His eyebrows rise. “Really? No, I didn’t.”