Page 88 of Wrecked

I know I can’t.

He wants the whole package. He wants me to tell him I love him. He wants me to hold his hand in public. He wants me to tell the whole worldhe’s mine, andI’m his.

Deep down inside, I want that too, but I just can’t bring myself to do it. It’s like there’s a wall around my heart—an immovable, unbreakable barrier I can’t cross. If I do, somethingbad will happen, and I’ll lose Sam, too. It’ll be like Cody all over again.

Every time I think of taking those steps, I see Cody’s lifeless body in front of me. I failed Cody. And I’m afraid of failing Sam, too.

I know the world is a vastly different place than it was when I grew up, secretive and closeted, but when I think of outing myself, I become paralyzed with fear. Fear of not being able to protect Sam. Fear of losing him.

But if I don’t give him what he needs, I’m in danger of losing him anyway.

I’m damned if I do, and damned if I don’t.

Eventually, I manage to drift off, but my sleep is restless. Every time Sam shifts position, he groans in pain. When he tries to move his broken leg, he cries out.

“Take it easy, baby,” I tell him as I run my palm up and down his torso. My thumb pauses to brush against one of his nipples.

“God, that feels good,” he says with a groan. “You’re trying to distract me.”

“Guilty as charged.”

Sam presses his lips to my forehead. “I miss you. It’s been so long since you’ve really touched me.”

“That’s because you’rehurt.”

“I’d feel better if youtouchedme.”

“Or, I’d end up hurting you more.”

“I guess there’s only one way to know for sure.”

“All right. But you have to promise not to move. And if anything hurts, you have to tell me so I can stop.”

“I promise.”

I’m rolling my eyes at that, but it’s dark, so he can’t see.

After I go down on him—very gently—we fall asleep in each other’s arms.

* * *

The next morning, I wake as the morning sun filters through the drapes. It’s time to rise and shine and get breakfast started.

I carefully extricate myself from Sam’s embrace, use the toilet, and get myself ready. When I come back into the bedroom, Sam’s just waking up.

Groaning, he stretches his arms above his head, giving me a glimpse of his lean hips, his happy trail, and his abdominal muscles contracting and flexing. God, he’s gorgeous.

“How are you feeling?” I ask him.

He grimaces. “My leg hurts like a bitch. And before you ask, no, it’s not because of what we did that night. I just lay here while you did all the work.”

“Whatever you say. How about I help you to the bathroom, and then you rest in bed until your breakfast is ready?”

Sam gives me a dreamy, fuck-me smile. “Okay.”

“You want pancakes?”

“Yeah. That sounds good. And bacon?”