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Noah shook his head, even though what Marcus said was true. “Beckett shouldn’t have to take on that burden.”
“I shouldn’t have to take on what burden?” Beckett asked as he strode into the room.
Noah’s heart lurched in his chest, both with affection for his savior and with guilt that he and Marcus had been sitting there, alone, talking about him. His heart beat faster as he swept Beckett with a look. Beckett had obviously just come in from the outside. His cheeks were pink with wind and cold, and his hair was slightly tousled from removing a hat. More importantly, his eyes shone bright with happiness as he crossed to sit on the sofa with Noah, several books in his hand.
“I’ve just returned from the library,” he said, kissing Noah’s cheek quickly, then turning to nod to Marcus. He showed Noah the spines of the books and went on with, “I’ve discovered a few promising treatises on the various ways that the Ancient Greeks sought to cure mental illnesses. I thought we could read them together.”
Noah’s entire body went warm with Beckett’s enthusiasm and persistence. But the guilt and shame that went along with it wouldn’t go away, especially with Marcus sitting there, staring at the two of them. It felt like Marcus was a stranger interloping on an intimate moment.
Noah nearly laughed. Marcus felt like a stranger to him. In truth, Marcus had probably been a stranger to him all along. The man he’d fancied himself in love with for so long was nothing more than a phantom of his own creation.
That thought didn’t make Noah feel better at all.
“Have you found a new doctor who might be willing to treat Noah?” Marcus asked, still shuffling his hat in his hands, even though he was seated. Noah was surprised that Gardener hadn’t taken the hat when Marcus had arrived, but then, it seemed clear Marcus needed the prop as a distraction from his discomfort.
“I have yet to search for one,” Beckett said, growing serious. “I’m not certain that seeking the help of a medical professional is what we really need.”
He sounded sour as he spoke, and he reached for Noah’s hand, threading their fingers together. The smooth heat of Beckett’s touch was almost like the electrical current that had jolted through him at the asylum, but it was far more tender, and unlike the electricity, it might actually do him some good.
“I have been thinking of entering some sort of course of study at whichever college in the city will take me as an auditor, actually,” Beckett went on.
“That’s…admirable,” Marcus said.
Noah had the sense that he meant it, but everything about the situation made Marcus uncomfortable.
“Well,” Marcus said with a tight smile, shifting forward like he would stand, “I just stopped by to see how Noah was. Everyone at The Slope is concerned about him, about both of you. They’ll be grateful for an update. Frankly, I think you’ve been doing a marvelous job, Beckett. Noah looks as though he’ll be running around, terrorizing half of New York in no time.”
Noah smiled, even though he felt it was a backhanded compliment.
“We are doing our best,” Beckett said, standing as Marcus stood. “I’ll show you out,” he said to Marcus, then told Noah, “I’ll be right back. Take a look at those books in the meantime and tell me which one we should read first.”
Noah nodded and picked up the books as Marcus and Beckett left the room, but he knew he didn’t have enough concentration to focus on any of them. That wouldn’t stop Beckett from reading them aloud the way he’d readAlice in Wonderland, though.
He was still pretending to be interested in the books when Beckett returned and sat beside him again.
“It was nice of Marcus to visit,” he said, sliding an arm around Noah’s back.
Noah slumped toward Beckett, resting his head on his friend’s shoulder. “He feels guilty,” he said.
Beckett surprised him with a laugh. “Yes, well, that much is obvious. And I’m still trying to decide whether he deserves to feel awful or not.”
Beckett’s failure to smile and brush it all away and forgive Marcus made Noah smile despite himself. “I love that you aren’t all sweetness and forgiveness all the time,” he said, draping his arms around Beckett’s neck.
A moment later, they both froze as Noah’s words made their impact. It wasn’t exactly a confession of love, but it was the closest either of them had come to making one. For despite the fact that they both knew Beckett loved him, and despite the terms of endearment Beckett had begun to use while addressing him, he hadn’t actually said those three all-important words yet.
The air between them crackled with the energy of those unspoken words. Noah shifted, keeping his arms around Beckett, but leaning back enough to look into his friend’s eyes. Everything Beckett felt was right there, on his sleeve, as it always was. Noah didn’t think Beckett would have been capable of hiding his love even if he’d wanted to.
It was the pinkness of Beckett’s softly-parted lips as he gazed back at Noah. It was the sunlight in his eyes that refused to be dampened by the dark clouds of Noah’s black fit. It was the warmth in his body as it pressed against Noah’s and the touch of his fingertips as they traced their way slowly up Noah’s arm to his shoulder, then his cheek, then his mouth.
Noah held his breath, Beckett’s touch on his lips more powerful than any current. He let it out when Beckett took his hand away, then swayed into him, slanting his mouth over Noah’s. It was a kiss he knew he didn’t deserve, but it cut him to the quick. Noah closed his eyes and gave himself over to the gentle passion that thrummed between the two of them, accepting the affection that Beckett gave so freely and so selflessly. It was like a balm to his soul and a restorative for his whole being.
And he knew. It came to him like a beautiful fragrance wafted in on the breeze from some unseen garden. He loved Beckett. He loved him so dearly, and he had for a while now. He loved Beckett with a force that wouldn’t be denied and couldn’t be squashed, not by the disapproval of others, and not by his own demons.
He inched back, gazing deep into Beckett’s eyes, and said, “Beckett, I—”
“I’ve brought more tea,” Aurora said, stepping into the room with a cheery smile and a large tray in her hands. “And Miss Taylor has just made cookies, though I know you call them biscuits in England. They’re my—oh! Beckett! You’re home!”
The moment was broken, and Noah came thudding back to earth. He shifted back from Beckett, even though Aurora had seen the two of them kissing before in the last few weeks. The Smith family was extraordinarily accepting of differences in the way men loved, as had been demonstrated time and again.
