He keeps going. “Being with you helps with that. I can look forward instead of back.”
He lifts our joined hands and places them over my left pec, right on the letter.
“And if Em’s part of that,” he says, meeting my eyes, “I understand.”
“You do?”
“Yeah.” His smile takes my breath away. “She’s been on my mind too. Among other things.”
His fingers stay threaded through mine, with his thumb twirling slowly.
“I’ve been remembering more things from before,” he whispers.
I tense without meaning to, then force myself to at least look relaxed. “More like future-forward stuff?” I offer, trying to keep it light. “Or stuff that makes therapists rich?”
“Real funny, Stan.” He breathes in before saying, “I know my sister’s real name doesn’t start with anE.”
I raise my brows. “Yeah?”
“She got a codename from Clo. For being her fiftieth puppet. It was just the letterL. My sister, reduced to that…”
He sighs, breath shaking, so I rub his back some more. He tries to give me a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes this time.
“I think I always knew. How could I forget my own sister’s realname? She’s named after our mom.”
His jaw works around the next words.
“I just…” He closes his eyes heavy for a second. “I didn’t want to remember everything else that comes with everything in my past. But that’s the problem. If I keep thinking that way, I’m still running away.”
When he lifts his eyes to mine, I frown at how wet they look.
“IassumedI was another codename to Clo. But she never bothered renaming her right-hand man.” His laugh’s short and bitter. “A year on dirty Kys while earning her trust did more damage than I realized.”
My hand on his back slowly slides up to his cheek, wiping the stray tears off.
He closes his eyes, smiling in that sad way. “All I wanted was to save my sister, Stan.”
“You did, Ocean Eyes.”
Tears fall down faster. I wipe away each one.
“Babe, you saved more than her. You savedeveryoneKys cursed.” I pull him closer, right into my arms. “You savedme.”
He makes this broken sound that’s half a sob and half a laugh, then kisses me, messy and desperate, but just right for us.
I kiss him back, all the fear burning away by how badly I want him to know I mean it.
Our bodies grind under the blanket, skin hot and sweat-slick, and it hits me how stupid my earlier spiral was. I was worried over ink and impulse while he’s been carrying years of survival and sacrifice in his head, and still choosing my dumb ass anyway.
While we’re kissing, it’s wrecking my ability to think, but one question pops to mind, so I ask before I forget. “Wait, babe,” I murmur, forehead pressed to his. “Before I screw this up—what do you want me to call you now? Nil or Calix?”
He studies my face for a little while before leaning in. “Let me hearhow they sound from your lips.”
His hands slide between us, dragging a broken groan outta me. My back arches as his warm palms press against my flexing abs, rippling under his touch.
“Say my name, Stan.”
“Nil,” I breathe, voice shaking.
