Page 73 of On Your Knees

Patrick gets to work. Halfway through, Ethan gets out of the chair and comes to sit on the flagstones at my feet. Something about having him there while Patrick is trimming my hair, which no one has done in a long time, makes me choke up. All of it makes me feel like I’m being taken care of and there’s nothing for me to do but sit here and let it happen.

“Sorry,” I mutter as my eyes water and I have to swipe at them. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Ethan’s fingers find mine on my knee. “Do you want to stop?”

Patrick pauses his work, taking his hands away from me.

“I’m fine,” I say. “Really. I just feel dumb.”

Ethan’s fingers squeeze mine. “There’s nothing dumb about it.”

I nod, and Patrick goes back to work. I relax as I start to feel like my emotions are okay, like no one minds.

“There,” Patrick says at last, combing back my hair. “How’s that?”

Ethan smiles a little. “It looks really good.”

“Does it?” I ask, needing confirmation, or maybe just another compliment, or maybe more of Ethan’s smile.

He says, “I can see more of your face now. I like that.”

Patrick whisks the cape off me and shakes it out in the grass at the edge of the patio. “I’m gonna finish the food, then I’ll head to my place.”

A shift happens in my mind, and something abruptly becomes very, very clear. I’m not the extra here. Patrick is. He’s the one who will leave. He’s the one who will be alone. And the only reason he’s been here is to help us.

“Thanks, Patrick,” I say, really meaning it this time.

I think he hears it because he smiles a little before he goes inside.

Ethan and I settle in the Adirondak chair again. I feel like I’m smashing him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. We stay there so long that Patrick eventually leaves. We stay there until afternoon fades to evening.

We go inside and eat spaghetti then go upstairs. Ethan is quiet, but I guess I am too. I’ve realized something that feels both obvious and terrifying.

I don’t even let it form into words in my mind, not fully, not until we’re in the bathroom brushing our teeth, when I’m watching Ethan in the mirror as he keeps touching my hair.

I love him.

The words catch me suddenly, like a blow to my chest. They steal my breath with their absoluteness.

I love him.

TWENTY-FIVE

Ethan

“I wish you could sleep,” Levi murmurs against me in the darkness. He’s curled up at my side, his hand resting on my chest.

I tilt my head down and breathe in the scent of his hair. “I will.”

His fingers flex on my chest. “It worries me.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” I ask, stroking his flank.

“Because it worries me.”

I sigh and roll toward Levi. He flops around to put his back to me so I can tug his ass against my groin. “You don’t need to worry.”

Levi’s fingers find mine under the covers. He traces my knuckles. “Why aren’t we having sex?”