He clung to Sam, even as he felt a sharp pang of guilt stab him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he mumbled.
“What is it, love? Did you—” Sam seemed to tense, and his arms tightened around Ollie slightly. “Did you have another nightmare?”
“N-no, no, I just . . .”
“I’m here, love, and you’re safe,” Sam said in his quiet, gentle voice. He pulled away from Ollie for just a moment to reach behind him and switch on the light next to the bed. Then Ollie was in his arms again, held tight against Sam’s chest, surrounded by all his warmth and love.
Logically, Ollie knew. He knew everything would be okay. Sam’s love wasn’t going anywhere. Sam wasn’t going anywhere. Sure, it might be a rough few weeks, maybe more, but they’d get through it. Sam would have Barry and his sister, and Ollie would have his mom. And they could text and talk on the phone, and he’d probably be pretty busy with work anyway.
But logic meant nothing to his heart then, and he let Sam hold him, one hand caressing his back in long, slow strokes, as he tried to steady himself. Sam’s quiet voice continued to murmur softly in his ear, the same words about him being safe and loved and not alone. Finally, after what was probably several minutes, Sam kissed his cheek and let out a long breath.
“Oll . . . is this . . . You’re shaking, love. Can you tell me what happened?”
He couldn’t though. He couldn’t seem to make himself speak, and that just made the guilt even worse.
“Oll?”
He screwed his eyes shut and buried his head back into Sam’s chest. “I-I’m fine. I’m sorry, I-I didn’t... Everything’s fine. I just... I’m just tired. I’m sorry I woke you up. We should—we should go back to sleep.”
It was a lie. Everything wasn’t fine. Or rather, what he should have said was that he was feeling uncertain about everything—uncertain about going back home to Seattle without Sam, uncertain about leaving Sam here, uncertain about being alone. But it was late, and he didn’t want to burden Sam anymore with all of this. They’d talked it all out earlier, and when he’d been a little calmer, a little less tired, it had all made sense.
So he certainly didn’t need to rehash it right now, when Sam had been sleeping only minutes ago and when Ollie’s brain was just too tired to remember why everythingwouldbe fine.
“It’s okay, I, um... I’d rather...” Sam paused and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “If anything’s bothering you, love, I’d rather we... talk about it now.”
“No, no, it’s... Everything’s fine, really. I’m sorry. We should go back to sleep,” Ollie repeated.
Guilt flooded him, worse than before. But he reminded himself again that it was probably just his exhaustion talking, and he forced himself to breathe normally.
“Good night, Sam.” He tilted his head back and then stretched up slightly to kiss Sam’s lips. Sam seemed to hesitate but then returned the kiss, deepening it just enough as he slanted his mouth against Ollie’s.
When they parted, Sam still looked a little confused, but Ollie tried for his best reassuring smile. “You want me to get the light?”
“No, no, I-I got it,” Sam said, and he smiled back, gave Ollie another light kiss on the lips, and then reached behind him to turn the light out.
They settled back onto the bed together then, Ollie cradled in Sam’s embrace, his head in its spot on Sam’s shoulder. And when he closed his eyes, he felt that strong pull of sleep again, and he didn’t fight it this time. Things would look better in the morning. They had to.
Lips pressed into his forehead just as he felt himself drifting off to sleep, and his boyfriend’s gentle words surrounded him, a warm whisper against his cheek. “Good night, love. I hope you sleep well... I love you. Always.”
Chapter 22
Friday came much too quickly it seemed, and when Sam woke with the first light peeking around the edges of the thick blackout curtains covering the windows of the hotel room, he lay awake for some time, just watching Ollie sleep. He was curled up on his side, facing Sam but with a little distance between them. Maybe a foot or so.
To Sam, though, it felt like more than that, and he had to resist the urge to scoot closer and gather Ollie up in his arms, kiss him and reassure him of... all the things. But he didn’t move. Ollie looked too peaceful, lying there with his eyes lightly closed and his mouth slightly parted in sleep. And Sam didn’t want to disturb him.
The last two days had been busy and nearly as exhausting as Tuesday had been. Barry had continued to recover quickly, which was excellent, and the doctors had said they expected to be sending him home on Sunday or Monday at the latest. Sam and Jaz had had multiple meetings with different doctors, nurses, and specialists who’d explained in detail what they needed to be prepared for and how best to care for Barry going forward. On top of all that, Ollie had fit in time around those meetings for work phone calls and some additional data analyses requested by his boss, and Sam had gone shopping to buy himself clothes, toiletries, and an inexpensive laptop so he could work remotely over the next few weeks. Late yesterday, they’d stopped at Barry’s house to pick up Barry’s car and had then returned the rental car to the airport since they didn’t need it anymore.
All the while, Ollie had been putting on this brave face, assuring Sam he was fine.
And all the while, Sam could tell that just wasn’t really true. He wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it—the fact that Ollie wasn’t being fully honest with him—but he also wasn’t sure whether he should bring it up.
Ollie’s flight was scheduled for that evening, departing around 7:00 p.m. And they had a bunch of things they needed to get done before then. That didn’t leave much time for what would likely be an emotional discussion, and all Sam really wanted right now was to know that he was making the right decision staying in Boston. It was a terrible, difficult decision. But he couldn’t see any other way.
His heart ached to think that tomorrow morning, he’d wake up alone, and that Ollie would be 2,500 miles away, also waking up alone. Tomorrow morning, he wouldn’t be able to reach out and touch Ollie’s cheek, kiss his lips, brush back his hair from his forehead. Tomorrow morning, if Ollie woke up less than settled, if he woke up from a nightmare—one of those terrible ones where he was back in Kansas—Sam wouldn’t be there to hold him and remind him he was safe and loved.
He exhaled shakily and finally gave in, inching closer until he could slip his arm under Ollie’s head and pull Ollie up against him. With a quiet sigh, Ollie snuggled up into his arms, still asleep, and Sam’s heart clenched. He closed his eyes as he pressed a gentle kiss to Ollie’s forehead, and then he gave in again, brushing his fingertips first down Ollie’s cheek and then his neck. And when they reached Ollie’s collarbone, Sam paused and traced just along the edge of the T-shirt Ollie wore, realizing for the first time that it was Sam’s T-shirt and was just a little big on Ollie.
Something stirred inside him at the thought that Ollie was wearing his shirt, but Sam pushed the feeling away and shifted slightly, transfixed for a moment on the spot where histhumb rubbed back and forth—that spot on Ollie’s neck that he just...
