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“I don’t.” Holden kissed him again and kept kissing him until Greg finally laughed. Holden grinned at him.
“Good. Just because I don’t get aroused or hard doesn’t mean I don’t like to have my body touched.”
“I know.” Holden was serious again. He reached out and cupped Greg’s chin, made Greg look at him. “You seem to think you have to apologize for all the ‘complications’ and things you don’t do, but that’s not necessary. Not for me. Because what you’re not seeing is what you’ve given me these past two days.”
“What have I given you besides a raging case of blue balls?” Greg smiled, hoping Holden took it as a joke, but he didn’t. His expression became grim, his mouth a thin line.
“Stop it,” Holden said gently. “These past two days have been the first time in I don’t know how long that I’ve been able to be my full self without worrying that it’s going to offend someone or get me fired or worse. Do you know what a gift that is for me? What a gift you are?”
Greg looked at Holden,reallylooked at him, and what he saw took his breath away. This man was staring at him as if he were the most precious thing in his world, and in that moment, Greg realized he felt that way about Holden as well. He took a deep breath, reached out, and drew Holden down to him.
“I’m glad we’re here,” he said, then kissed Holden before he could say another word.
Chapter fourteen
Holden
“Fuckinghell!”
Greg’s shout roused Holden out of a sound sleep, but it was the crash of something heavy that brought him fully awake. Startled to a sitting position, Holden didn’t have to glance around the cabin to find the source of the noise. Greg was kneeling by the fireplace, holding his right hand in with his left, a good-sized log with jagged splinters on the floor by his feet.
“Are you all right?” Holden asked, even though he could tell Greg wasn’t, and was already swinging his legs over the edge of the mattress. They’d slept naked, and while Greg had pulled on a pair of sweats, Holden was reminded of his lack of clothes as soon as the chilled air hit his skin. “What do you need?”
“A towel, please.” Greg’s voice was pinched. Whatever he’d done, it was causing him pain.
Holden got out of bed and collected a hand towel from the bathroom. When he returned to Greg, he could see blood on his right hand and a fair number of crimson drops on the hardwood floor by the log. Handing the towel to Greg, he returned to the bathroom and came back with a second one to take care of the floor.
As soon as he bent down, Greg yelled at him. “Don’t touch that.”
Holden paused, confused, but then he remembered the other thing Greg had told him that made relationships difficult for him. He dropped the towel on top of the blood, but didn’t make any attempt to clean it up.
“I thought you said your viral count is undetectable.”
“It is.” Using his left hand and teeth, Greg wrapped the other towel around his hand and put pressure on his palm. “As long as I keep taking my meds, it should stay that way.” He rocked back and sat on the floor, legs crossed in front of him, pressing on the towel that was already showing a tinge of red beneath his fingers. “And before you ask, I don’t take pills. I get an injection every month.”
It was on the tip of Holden’s tongue to say he hadn’t been thinking that, but he wasn’t going to lie. It had crossed his mind that he hadn’t seen Greg taking anything other than vitamins. “I guess my knowledge is out of date,” he said instead. “Now, tell me what you did and how I can help.”
Greg looked up at him, his expression guarded, but Holden couldn’t tell if he was angry or irritated or just in pain.
“I was going to get a fire started and then order breakfast for us. To surprise you. But the first log was heavier than I thought it would be, and I lost my grip on it. It ripped the shit out of my hand, and…” Greg lifted the towel so Holden could see the deep scrapes on his palm. The deepest ones quickly filled with blood, and Greg shook his head. “I’ve got a first aid kit in my bag. It’s got gloves, which you need to put on to help me. And then there’s cleaning supplies in the bathroom, including a spray bottle with bleach, which I’ll need to clean up the floor.”
“I’ll clean the floor,” Holden said as he got up and went to retrieve the items Greg needed. He paused to pull on a pair of sweats for himself, then returned with the spray bottle, a sponge, and the travel first aid kit.
“You’re not touching the floor,” Greg said.
Holden had unzipped the kit and pulled out a pair of nitrile gloves, as well as antibiotic ointment and a couple of bandages. “I can—”
“No!” Greg huffed out an exasperated breath. “I don’t care how low my count is, I don’t want you to touch my blood. I don’t want you to take that kind of risk.”
It was clear to Holden that there was more going on here than Greg’s pain or embarrassment at having been clumsy. That had been his initial thought, but it wasn’t the time to push. Holden put on the gloves and helped Greg clean the scrapes and dress them with the ointment and bandages. Greg was awkward with his left hand, but he wouldn’t let Holden do anything that included direct contact with him.
As far as Holden knew—and he hadn’t had time to do any research since Greg told him he was HIV positive—while the gloves might be a necessary precaution, the rest of Greg’s reaction was not caused by any significant risk to Holden. Blood and semen were the primary ways HIV was spread, but barriers were sufficient to protect him against infection, especially if he didn’t have any broken skin that would allow blood-to-blood contact.
Once the bandages were in place, Greg told Holden to sit on the bed while he cleaned up the floor, then wrapped up the towels in one of the bags housecleaning used to take away dirty linens. He kept his head down and his back to Holden the whole time, and Holden watched him with concern.
They didn’t know each other well enough for him to know what was going through Greg’s head, and this was a reminder of how little time they’d had to learn about each other. The ease with which they’d come together, talked about deeply personal and difficult issues, and the strength of feelings he was developing—and was pretty sure was mutual—belied the fact that they didn’t really know each other yet.
But, Holden mused, how well does one human ever know another? Greg had been infected by a boyfriend, someone he thought he could trust, someone—
