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They don’t stop until I gently press my lips to them. Twisting his legs around mine, he buries his nose into the nape of my naked neck, the sound of his choppy breath, the feel of his chest breathing with mine; we don’t need to talk. All we’ve needed is each other, to lie in our pain together until some of it washes away.
It feels like an hour passes while the storm blows over, and the night grows as quiet as we are.
“I’ve been sober for one year, two months, and thanks to you, one more day, Cade.” His voice is hushed over my ear. “And in that time, I’ve been so alone. I haven’t told anyone. I haven’t been with another woman. After you, after ten years ago, I’ve never had sex sober. I couldn’t get hard sober, and I didn’t want to.
“I don’t remember much of what I did or with who. And I’m so damn lucky all my tests came back clear. That God, I hope I didn’t hurt anyone. But all I remember in flashes over the years was no matter who I was with; I was missing you.”
My throat burns to the pain he shares, to the truth he dares to tell me.
It’s been the same for me.
All I think about is him.
“I had to leave that other night because I was embarrassed.” He keeps confessing, “I don’t know my body now because it feels everything sober. I want to feel that with you again, but I can’t control it. I could come in ten seconds or rip you apart all night. That’s how powerful it is. That’s what I feel with you. And it scares me because I’d protect you all over again, even from my pain.”
“It’s okay.” I turn around in his arms. “It’s okay. I understand.” I cradle his head into my neck and hold him back. “We can just talk, and that’s okay.”
“I want to do more than talk with you, Cade. I want to laugh with you. I want to play games like we used to. We never stopped being kids together, and I loved that. If I want happiness, I have to find it with you.”
It’s my truth too.
I lift his chin and trace my fingertip along it. I want to ease his pain, our pain.
“What kind of games do you want to play?”
“Uno.”
“Uno?” I can’t help it. I laugh through tears. “Are you for real?”
“Yes.” His smile is instant. “I always beat you at that game. Everything else is bullshit because you’re too smart for me and always win.”
“Okay.”
I trace down his nose next; ideal masculinity blesses every feature of his face. His dark eyebrows. His dark stubble. The contrast to the light streaks in his hair. The way his lips are in a constant soft pout over a hard jaw. The way his eyes are a sky you dream about.
“I’ll play Uno with you again,” I grin, “and I’ll let you win.”
“Let me make you dinner first.”
“Good luck with that.” There’s peace in his arms, making my heart beat happy. “My cupboard is bare.”
“No, it’s ain’t.” He sweeps my long bangs back, tucking them behind my ear. “I went grocery shopping.”
The evidence is obvious.
“You kept the key to my place?” The one Mama gave him. Typical, Gloria Bryant. She set us up. “I’ll let you break and enter, only this once.”
“Don’t be mad. I had to put the ice cream in the freezer.” I don’t need to ask. “I want another ice cream date with you, but I’ve been dodging fans with phones for the past twelve hours, so we gotta stay here.”
“The units in this building are sold out all summer with your fans looking for you.”
“Sorry about that. Welcome to my hell.”
I’m thrilled to be back in it. And I know we can only talk about this in small doses, so I let it go. I’d rather have him than the truth, at least for a night.
It turns out, Redix is a great cook. He learned the skill his first year sober, and I reap the rewards of his love for Korean food.
“Here.” He plops an onion on the cutting board. “Chop this.”
