With the game paused and the controllers down, I decide now is the moment to introduce some oxytocin to the situation. Because it’s worth staving off the difficult conversation a little longer if I can finally make Silas feel good, after putting him through all this bullshit.
We’re already close on the couch, only a few inches between us, so it’s easy for me to lean over him. I run my hand up his thigh and edge closer until our faces are almost touching, and then wait to see his response.
“I promise I’ll apologize some more in ways that involve words, but I’d like to apologize on my knees, too. If you’re into it, of course.”
The way his mouth pulls to the side and his eyes flick away from my face and back is not the reaction I was hoping for.
“Cade, didn’t we just talk about the wholesex as a punishment for real thingsthing? Like a week ago?”
I frown, because I’m not totally sure what he’s talking about, but then it comes back to me. Oh, shit. I’d forgotten about that.
Silas doesn’t pull away from me. He puts a hand on my waist, holding me close to him, but also lets out an epic sigh.
“Of course, we never actually finished that conversation, either. I just…” He trails off, but I don’t say anything while he finds the words. The last thing I need is to start talking over him on top of everything else. “I don’t know where your head is at. I feel like all these weird things keep popping up, and then you brush it under the table and act like everything’s normal.”
When he brings his hand up to push back my hair, I let my eyes fall closed for a minute. My hair really is getting too long, but I’m such a fucking slut for when he touches me like this.
“I promise I’m not dodging you and I’m gonna do better. But can we please not talk about it yet. I miss you.”
I push my face further into his hand. Every word I said is true. I’m not trying to avoid it. But Silas has been the one rock-steady thing about my life for the last year, and having this distance between us is making me feel unmoored.
Silas’s eyebrows draw together. He looks almost mournful. But he heard me, clearly, because he gently tugs me closer to him until we’re finally kissing.
It’s a slow, lazy kiss, combined with both of us touching each other everywhere we can. I sink into him a little more every second until I’m basically in his lap, and he takes advantage of the position to wrap his arms around me and hold me in place. It all feels luxurious, and like the world is correct, for the first time in so long.
I get lost in it, and I know Silas does, too. Neither of us tries to push it any further, content in the moment. My body turns syrupy and relaxed, and I finally start to feel like I can have a conversation about my feelings or whatever without all the meat boiling off my bones.
Of course, that’s when my phone rings. Well, vibrates. It buzzes on the coffee table, making a hard, sharp noise that interrupts the peaceful mood. We both ignore it, but I can feel the peace slipping away from us.
The buzzing stops and then immediately starts again. All my worries about what could possibly be wrong creep in, until I can’t concentrate and pull myself away from Silas. It takes some contortion to reach the phone without extricating myself from Silas’s lap, but I manage it. Like an idiot—a hungover idiot—I swipe to take the call without actually looking at who it is.
“Hey man, I have great news about the race. We’re so on. And since I got you involved, people are throwing down way more than they should; the betting just got interesting. My uncle wants me to confirm that you’re in before it gets out of hand.”
“Chris?” I ask, like an idiot.
I can practically hear him roll his eyes.
“Yes, it’s Chris. Are you still hungover? Jesus. Eat a burrito or something and get your shit together, because we’re racing tonight.”
“What?”
I’m so confused. I don’t think Silas can hear the other end of the conversation, because he’s frowning at me with a question in his eyes, and if he knew what I was talking about he’d probably look more pissed.
I gesture to him to give me a second and then climb off his lap, only barely managing to not fall to the floor in the process. Once I’m standing, it’s easier to go to the kitchen and get a little distance so I can pull my thoughts together.
“Wait, what are you talking about tonight? I thought this plan was for like, days from now?”
I’m mumbling, but I don’t know if it’s enough for Silas to not hear. I’ll explain everything to him when I’m off the phone, but I’d like for that conversation to not start as an uphill battle.
Chris answers me, talking super fast and animatedly about his plan and his uncle’s buddies and bunch of other shit I half listen to. Apparently tonight is the only night that works with all of our schedules. Which, of course, reminds me that I havefucking work tomorrow night. And then there’s something about the quality of the riders and the whole fly-by-night secrecy of it is getting everybody excited, and word has spread that they all need to get their bets in fast.
When he asks me to try and get Silas involved, I don’t even bother to pretend, I just say no. There’s no way Silas would ride in a competitive context, and I wouldn’t want him to. Not when I know how much he hates it.
I’m still not convinced I’m going to do it. It seemed like a great idea last night, but that was when I was farther from the specter of Silas’s disappointment and concern.
Then Chris interrupts his monologuing to tell me what the pot is already at, and sweet Jesus fuck. That’s a lot of money. More than I expected in such a short amount of time.
That’s the kind of money that could make a dent in this custody situation, I realize. And with that thought, I remember all the reasons I was so excited about the idea in the first place, and all the research I’ve been doing.
