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I follow Ethan up the stairs and lean back against the parapet as he paces. As he tells himself Tom’s surgery tomorrow is a common one. That he’ll be fine. He has to be. “But there are risks.”
His face crumples and I reach for him. I pull him against me and he folds easily, no ounce of hesitation. He trembles though. He’s scared. So am I.
“Once upon a time there was a boy who never wanted to leave home, but whose mother was remarrying . . .”
His uneven breath is hot at my neck and makes me shiver. As my story—our story—progresses, he calms.
When I get to our happy ending, he buries his cold nose against my warmed skin. “Our story is magic. I hope you write it one day.”
My heart thumps and I cup his head, raising it off me so I can look at him.
His expression is tight with worry, but his hands grip my waist like he needs connection, closeness. “Kiss me, Fin?”
Shivers take over as I lean in and kiss the corner of his lips. His gasp slots our mouths together and we feel the beat of our heart at every point we touch. He tastes like salty tears and coffee, and he whispers between each press of our lips. Please. More. Please.
I look him in the eye. He’s begging me to take care of him and I need to, just as much. We leave the stars behind us and head into my room. We kiss and stumble as we help each other out of our clothes, in the end laughing and giving up to take care of our own.
We hiss at the slide of cool sheets over our naked bodies and cuddle close for warmth. He strokes my back and arse and upper thigh. We grow hard, rut against one another.
Our kisses grow deeper, wetter and I roll onto my back, urging Ethan with me. I hiss at the cold sheet hitting my skin, but it’s quickly forgotten as Ethan’s solid, heavy weight blankets me.
“I want . . .” he says.
“I want that too.”
There are a hundred kisses and lots of lube and careful exploration.
There is soft laughter and tingling skin.
There are panting pleas.
He kisses me hard as he pushes into me. We both groan at the sensation and I clasp his butt, urging him on. He sinks deep and I gasp at how full I feel. It’s unlike any other time I’ve done this. It’s every word shared between us. Every look we’ve traded in secret. Every smile we’ve ever had.
I clench around him and squeeze his arms tight. I want to feel this, be this close, every night for the rest of our lives.
He moans and rocks back and forth. “Fin.”
I whisper for him to let go. He won’t hurt me.
He groans and his hips snap; pleasure ripples through me. More.
He gives me more.
The world spins, and when it stops, when we come hard, panting in each other’s ears, everything settles perfectly into place. We are here for each other. He is my family. He is my home.
Life is marvellous. I want to be deeply rooted in it—to live—to expand—to breathe in it—to rejoice—to share it.
K. Mansfield, Letter
Tom has his surgery.
He survives.
Love! Love! Your tenderness,
Your beautiful, watchful ways
K. Mansfield, “Covering Wings”
While Mum picks Tom up from hospital, Ethan and I play hide-and-seek with Julia in the house.
Julia runs off to hide and the separation feels extra poignant today.
I grip the banister. I’m only one step up, but I need to stop. Ethan should be running off to hide too, but he hesitates and threads his fingers through mine. “You okay?”
“He’ll be back any minute.”
Ethan smiles.
I’m smiling too, but mine is wavering. “When should we tell him? I don’t want to make him worse.”
“I’m made of heartier stuff than that,” comes a voice from the foyer. We lurch around. Tom is leaning on Mum as he shuffles over the glistening marble floor.
So shiny, like it’d been mopped with all our tears. Starting from the day I first arrived.
Tom stands where I’d dumped my bag that first day.
“What is it you want to tell me then?” Tom says.
Ethan’s hand grows clammy in mine and he swallows. I know he’ll tell his dad this time, I can feel it. But this time, I will help.
I let go, move down the stairs, and cross to him. “Glad you’re home, Tom.”
“Get to it, Fin.”
I hold my head high and meet his eyes. “You might hate this, but I know now you’ll still love us; emotions are complicated, I’ve learned that. And I don’t think you’d stop us seeing Julia.”
Mum huffs. “If he did, I’d leave Mansfield myself. No one is taking your sister away from you.”
Tom’s eyes are rooted on mine. “No one is leaving Mansfield. Now spit it out already so we can get on with our lives.”
