I ignore for the moment that he is talking about his dead husband in the present tense. “You don’t have to know how. You just have to know that you want to. The rest will come. And if my opinion means anything, Roly is worth forgiving. He’s a good man.”
The air in the car is heavy, but holding his body against mine feels like home, and my timing could not be worse.
After a while I rub his arm and ask, “Are you going to be okay?”
He nods against my chest and I kiss the top of his head. “Do you want to stay in here with me a while longer?”
He nods again and we sit in silence until he shifts, his expressive eyes wavering between sadness and curiosity.
“I’m surprised you’re not still in the field,” he says, tentatively running his fingers through my silver-and-black beard. “Did you age out?”
I smile, only mildly affronted. “No. I’m forty-one—still plenty of lead in the pencil.”
He leans back, peering into my eyes, and my soul feels it. His question goes unasked, but I answer it anyway. “Once my final mission was done, I couldn’t go back to the same polarized, politicized, rank-and-file existence. Decided not to re-up my commission.”
And because my heart was broken. But I digress.
He grabs my hand and places it on his knee, running his fingers over my many silver rings.
“Your hands are huge,” he says, the delicate touch of his fingers causing a deep, bittersweet ache.
I cover the unwelcome emotion with a smile. “Your knees are small.”
His fingers trace the black-and-gray tattoo of a birdcage surrounded by roses on the back of my hand. The birdcage is open and contains a brilliant red heart with a jeweled dagger through the middle of it.
He pulls up my other hand, effectively surrounding himself with my arms. On this hand is a swallow surrounded by clouds with a small stitch over its chest.
“What does this mean?”
I make two fists, touching the sides of my hands together. “Sometimes, to be free, you have to leave your heart behind.”
“Oh,” he says softly, thoughtful as he continues his tracing work. “Who made you leave your heart behind?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Again, the truth tumbles from my lips. “My lover died during a mission. I learned pretty quickly that sometimes you have to remove your heart from the equation if you want to survive.”
Rafi’s delicate breaths are barely audible as he runs a thin finger along my jaw. I inhale sharply, willing my heart not to fly out of my chest when the warm press of kisses follows the path of his fingers. My own breathing hitches when his breath ghosts over my lips.
Just as quickly his warmth departs, leaving my skin cold.
His gentle voice filters through the subtext. “You know I can’t be anything to you, right? I’m sorry, you’re so sweet, but…it’s too soon, and I honestly don’t know if I’ll ever be able to let another man erase Asadi’s touch.”
“Rafi, I…” I hesitate, wanting to make sure I can keep this promise. I think about his service and what he’s lost, and…the body rapidly decaying in the back of my car. The answer is obvious. “I can be your friend. No pretense, no ulterior motive. If you need a friend, I want to be that to you.”
His eyes stay on his tracing work, but his chin pulls back and fresh tears streak down his face. His teeth work his lips again but the small bob of his head is clear. He needs me.
I can do this.
I can do this.
Everett
Present
Of all the promises I’ve made in my life, the promise I made to Rafi in the car that night is the only one that makes me want to kick my own ass. In retrospect, my crush hadn’t yet reached its full bloom. Now that we’ve spent the last six months getting to know each other…I’m kicking my own ass so damn hard.
Prime example: tonight is Masochistic Monday, the night he comes over to binge-watch a series andnotchill with me and Windsor, my nine-year-old Pomeranian. Right now, we’re onA Place to Call Homeand, as always, we’ve ended up next to each other on the couch. Sometimes he puts his feet on my lap, sometimes it’s his head, and sometimes his head rests against my biceps because he doesn’t quite reach my shoulders.
But tonight…it’s the episode where they bust James out of a torture-the-gay-away hospital. Whenever we watch something sad or stressful or scary, Rafi climbs up into my lap like he did that night in the car, burying his head into my chest. He’s not wearing his contacts, and his sexy, slightly nerdy glasses threaten my sanity.
