“Relax, Ryan. Now get your ass in the car.”
When I got in the warm car, I put the bottles of water in the cooling section of the center console and pressed the button to “cool.” My seat warmer was already on and felt great. Soon we were at the restaurant close to the house that we often went to for breakfast. I looked at Russell and smiled. He looked happy. Not that he was never happy, but he looked particularly happy this morning.
“You seem really happy.” I commented as I sipped on my coffee.
Russell huffed out a laugh, and a grin appeared on his face.
“How could I not be? I went to bed and woke up with my soulmate and spent some time as one with him.” Russell picked up his steaming coffee mug and sipped from it. “Of course I’m happy.”
“You come up with the most eloquent ways of saying you fucked me,” I teased.
“Ryan, I never just fuck you.”
“I know you don’t. But doesn’t it sound better to say, ‘I fucked you,’ rather than ‘I was one with you’?”
We stared at one another with smirks on our faces as our breakfast was brought to our table.
“I’m starving,” I murmured as soon as the server walked away.
I grabbed my knife and put some butter between each pancake. Quickly, I ate a piece of bacon while dousing the stack in syrup. I glanced at Russell as he methodically prepped his warm oatmeal. The server delivered a plate that held tiny cups of condiments for the oatmeal. He had slices of strawberries, walnuts, and brown sugar. But oddly, there was a small cup of syrup on his plate too. I’d never seen him use syrup on oatmeal, though.
“I looked at the weather again this morning, and we might run into some rain on the way around late morning,” Russell advised.
I nodded and shrugged at the news while I ate. Russell explained he was slightly concerned about the rain due to slick roads and slower traffic. He didn’t seem to make a move toward the cup of syrup.
“How come you got syrup for your oatmeal?” I finally asked.
“For you, my boy.” Russell picked up the small cup of syrup and set it in front of my plate.
“Thank you,” I said and eagerly poured it on my pancakes.
While we ate, Russell told me about some of the highlights we’d see today while driving. It didn’t sound like a lot, but I was looking forward to seeing the country.
“It doesn’t matter what’s on the side of the road, Russell. I’d never seen much of the country, so seeing this with you will be great.”
Russell looked at me and wore a smile on his face. His eyes almost seemed a little glassy. Had I said something that clenched his heart?
“What? Did I say something wrong?” I finally asked.
“Wrong? Absolutely not. You said something heartfelt that warmed me, and I wanted to look at you.”
I frowned and failed to see how what I'd said had made such an impact.
“I was just explaining that it didn’t matter what we were doing or seeing. As long as I’m with you, it doesn’t matter,” I explained.
“That.” Russell sipped from his coffee. “That’s what you said.”
“Did I reach out and grab your heart?” I teased.
“Ryan, you’ve had your fingers embedded in my heart since our first session.”
“How do you say things like that just off the cuff?” He raised his eyebrow at me, as if he had no clue that he could string words together perfectly. He should be the author. “I wish I could say stuff like that.” And I really did. I wasn’t built to express myself vocally very well. I was more of a silent-words sort of guy and could write things rather than say them.
“I think you say meaningful things just fine, Ryan.”
Russell understood me. He knew vocalization wasn’t my strongest department, but it didn’t mean that I didn’t feel things. And luckily, Russell knew.
“Are you ready to get going?” he asked as I put the fork with syrup dripping from it in my mouth.
