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I tucked my nose in the crook of his neck and tried to will us into bed and the rest of the world into fuzzy nothingness. It didn’t work. Dane ran a hand gently up and down my back, then walked us to the couch and sat down.
“?’M glad to see you,” I murmured against his neck, not wanting to let go. “Missed you.”
“Me too. Sorry about the other day. I was with a sponsee and then…”
“?’S okay.” I knew he wouldn’t tell me anything about it, and I didn’t want to dwell in my hurt that he hadn’t called back. Right now I only cared that he was here and that we had the whole day stretching out in front of us.
I snuggled into Dane’s side on the couch and let out a long breath. Peace settled over me when he threaded his fingers through mine.
Before I knew it, I was telling Dane all about the photographers who had ambushed me and pouring out my fear that somehow I’d have to pay for the camera I broke and how sure I was that Sofia was getting a million times worse than that.
“She chose it, though,” he said soothingly, fingers in my hair. “You didn’t.”
I shuddered.
“I don’t think anyone chooses to have their privacy invaded. Even if they decide to be a singer for a band. It was horrible.”
“You’re right.”
“How are you?” I asked, tugging him closer to me. “You look really tired. You’ve been busy, huh?”
Dane’s sigh felt like it came from the depths of his being, and he did something I’d never seen him do before. He made a gesture like he was running a hand through his hair, only he didn’t have hair. It was like a ghost gesture from a life he used to have.
“Did you start shaving your head because you were balding?” I asked, realizing I’d never seen a single old picture of him.
“No.”
“How come, then?”
His brows drew together.
“I don’t remember,” he said. “I started doing it so long ago. Now it’s—”
“Habit.”
I tapped him on the tip of his nose.
“Yeah.”
“Is it dark like your eyebrows?”
“A little lighter. Hell, could be gray by now for all I know. Do you…You don’t like it, huh?”
“I like it,” I reassured him. “I was just curious.”
I knelt up and pressed a kiss to his smooth head. When I looked closely, I could make out the shadow of his hairline, though I’d never paid attention before. He had a widow’s peak.
Just as I sank back down next to him, Dane’s phone rang. He grabbed for it, apologized, and went to take it in the other room like he always did when it was a sponsee. I slumped onto the couch. I was doing a lot of slumping these days.
“Hey,” Dane said after a few minutes, towering over the couch, a pinched expression on his face. “I’m really sorry, sweetheart, but I have to go.”
“What?! But I thought— We were gonna— But…”
My heart started to race and a surge of adrenaline shot through me. Everything felt like it was falling apart, and the promise of spending the whole day with someone who’d become so important to me was the only thing that had been getting me through. Now, as it was torn away, I felt it in my whole body.
“We were, I know. I’m so sorry. Sponsee’s having a crisis. Needs me.”
I had spent weeks, months, years squashing my desires so small that they would never intrude on anyone—so small they became invisible even to me. Now, in the face of the man who had, for the first time, put me in the position to be cared for, they unfolded in a cascade of want and need and desire. Burst from my chest, unpracticed and sloppy, and shocking even myself.
“I need you!”
Dane’s eyes got wide and he frowned. Shame crept through me.
“I…This is what I do, Felix. He needs me now.”
“I need you now.” It came out tiny. A whimper of please love me that had begun its hopeless retreat before it had even left my mouth.
I knew my needs weren’t the same as his sponsees’. I knew I was being selfish. But I also knew that in Dane’s personal triage, his sponsee was above me on the list.
Would it always be that way? Would his sponsees’ needs—however legitimate and pressing—always have priority?
Would he leave me over and over to do something more important? What was my desire worth if I couldn’t prove its necessity?
I breathed deeply, trying to calm down.
“Um. What will you do when you go there?” I asked.
“Probably we’ll talk, I’ll keep him company, maybe watch TV.”
“I could come too!” I offered, an edge of desperation audible. “I can help, I promise. I’m a good listener.”
Dane’s eyes narrowed and he crossed his arms, muscles bulging. He looked stern, untouchable. The notion that I had ever kissed him, hugged him, made him laugh, seen the way his eyes fluttered open when he first woke in the morning, seemed mountain-distant.
