Charlie came back inside, his gaze darting from me to Tate before he slipped Rocky the last bit of hot dog with an ear scratch. Wordlessly, he went to fill the water kettle.
“Alright, buddy, time to go,” Tate said to Rocky, strapping the hands-free leash across his shoulders. “I’ll give you a call to sort things out. Pick up this time, please,” he added with a raised eyebrow.
I waved him off one last time before he disappeared into the trees, then turned to Charlie. “Making tea?” I asked.
He nodded without turning around to face me. “It helps. To ground me, like you said.”
I walked up behind him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, squeezing as hard as I could. It only took a few seconds before he softened, set the kettle down, and turned around to mirror my tight embrace.
“You’re tense. I know you’re worried about—” he began, but I interrupted.
“Can we not, for a little bit? Please?” I whispered. “I just want to hold you right now.”
He sighed deeply. “Yes.”
We were quiet for a few minutes, breathing each other in. “Tate likes you,” Charlie said after a while. “Or liked you, maybe, before he saw you holding hands with a ghost,” he mumbled into my chest.
I hummed. “To be fair, I think the part where he thinks you might be a murderer is the bigger hill to climb.”
He huffed out a short laugh and squeezed tighter. “You skipped the first part of what I said.”
“I did, because it doesn’t matter. It didn’t before you, and it certainly doesn’t now.”
“He’s alive.”
“So are billions of other people. I don’t want them, either.”
“He’s handsome.”
“You’re more handsome.”
“Joshwas more handsome,” he replied testily.
I’d told Charlie about how I was diagnosed, and everything that’d happened that day and shortly after. He’d asked to see a picture of Josh, and scowled at my phone when I showed him an old one of us.
I kissed Charlie’s cheek and pulled back to look him in the eye. “One of the first thoughts I had about you was how shockingly beautiful you are. I was deeply upset the scary ghost pushing me over the railing was so hot.”
He rolled his eyes. “I did not push you. Isavedyou, you?—”
I kissed him, slow and deep. I loved the way his body reacted to my touch—muscles loosening and leaning in for more.
“Yes, you did,” I whispered when I pulled away. “In more ways than that, Charlie. And I don’t want anyone else.”
Ever.
“Reece.”His fingers danced up my spine, clinging to my shoulders.
“Let me help,” I said, voice low and gruff between nips along his jaw line.
“With what?” he breathed.
“Grounding you. Keeping you here, with me. I bet I can do a pretty good job. At least as good as the tea.”
He smiled, guiding me to suck at his exposed collarbone. “What did you have in mind?”
“Well, I could use my hands,” I palmed him through his joggers. “Or maybe my mouth.”
He sucked in a sharp inhale.
