“No, thanks.” Leo could stand, and he did, with barely a wobble as he scanned the room once more, for Charlie this time, an odd mixture of anticipation and nerves churning in his stomach.
But Charlie was nowhere in sight, and pride kept Leo from asking for him again as he drifted to the table. He took his seat next to Lila and stared at a groove in the wood as Kate bustled around with lasagne and garlic bread. Fliss appeared opposite, ignoring him entirely, which was strangely comforting. But still no Charlie.
Come on, come on.Leo counted the cherry tomatoes in the salad until heated fingers finally grazed his good wrist and Charlie dropped into the seat beside him.
“Hi.”
Leo swallowed thickly. “Hi.”
“Okay?”
“Um . . . yeah?”
“Good, ’cause you look like shit.”
“Language, Charlie,” Reg cautioned, but there was a smile in his eyes that lightened the air.
Leo smiled too, and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed as right as it could be.
Somehow, he made it through dinner without falling into Charlie’s arms. When it was over, he picked up the nearest plate, eager to get the table cleared as quickly as possible.
Fliss pried it from his tingling fingers. “I’ve got this. Mum’s bathing Lila. Go upstairs and rest.”
Leo didn’t need telling twice, he glanced at Charlie and then fled his room, praying Charlie would follow.
His head had barely touched his pillow when Charlie ghosted through the door and shut it firmly behind him. Leo started to sit up, but Charlie reached him before he’d got far, and pushed him back down.
“Stay. Mum says you need to rest.”
“I’ve been asleep all afternoon.”
“Humour me. I had a dream last night that you’d killed yourself.”
A chill ran through Leo. “I wouldn’t do that.”
“Promise.”
“What?”
“Promise.” Charlie sat on the edge of the bed, leaned over, and pressed his forehead to Leo’s. “I know you feel bad, Leo—like, really bad—but you can get better. Dad said lots of people recover from PTSD.”
“But—”
“But nothing. None of this is your fault.”
“It is. I hurt that dickhead who gave you those pills.”
“So? You weren’t in your right mind. Uh, Dad told me what happened to your mum—” Charlie held up his hand as Leo took a breath to speak. “It’s okay. I know you don't want to talk about it. That’s cool, and it always will be. Just don’t let what happened destroy you, Leo. You’re worth more than that.”
He got up as abruptly as he had sat down, and retreated to his own room. Leo watched him undress in the window and became lost in his long limbs and flawless skin. He felt calmer now than he had in weeks, perhaps months, or even years, but the ability to share that with Charlie eluded him. With his tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth, he rolled over and stared at the wall until sleep claimed him again.
It was pitch-dark when slender arms slipped around his waist from behind, the bulb in his lamp apparently dead. But Leo paid the blackness no heed as a slender form pressed up against him, treating his skin to the best kind of fire. Leo kept his eyes closed and leaned back into the healing warmth. “Charlie?”
His voice was croaky and hoarse, and his throat hurt. Charlie tugged him onto his back and then supported his head while he pressed a bottle of water to Leo’s lips. “Mum said the sedatives made your mouth dry.”
And the rest.Leo swallowed the water. “Kate and Reg say a lot, eh?”
“Only when it matters.”
