He nodded. “For you I’d do anythin’.”
I shook my head frantically. I must have misunderstood him, or he’d misunderstood me.
“I’m amurderer, Benny!”
“I know. So what.”
I made a strangled sound as everything inside me tried to burst out and reach for him. Cling to him.
You can’t have him.
Fingertips trailed down my arm until he reached my hand. Slowly, he lifted it to his lips to kiss along my knuckles.
“How can you still want me?” I asked, desperate to understand.
Benny huffed. “Wantdoesn’t begin to cover it. I need you, more than I’ve ever needed anyone. I’m not gonna make the same mistakes again. I’ll stay here, by your side, and worship you like you deserve.”
“I’m a murderer,” I repeated.
Benny nodded. “Most gods are murderers too. Their priests still worship them. Why should my devotion be any different?”
“I’m not a god.”
“I’ll worship you anyway.”
He reached for my other hand, bringing that to his mouth to kiss as well, as if my hands were holy instead of tainted.
“No one’s gonna hurt you ever again. I’ll worship you more than a priest to his god. You’re my prince. I’ll be your knight when you need protection, your soldier when you need to fight, your clown when you need to laugh, your chef when you need to eat, your dog, your submissive, your willing slave. I’ll be everythin’ you need me to be.”
My legs gave out. I dropped to the ground, his words having stolen the fear, the grief, and the rage that had sustained me these last months. Without it, I didn’t know how to be.
Benny stepped away, and my heart seized in panic. He picked up my blanket from where I’d dropped it on the floor, brought it to me, and wrapped it securely around my shoulders.
Then he was lifting me up. Rather than feeling weak as I’d have suspected I would being carried like a child, I felt protected. Treasured.
He brought me to the kitchen, sat me on the bench top, and then went to look through my fridge and pantry.
I didn’t question him. I didn’t talk. I knew I’d have to eventually, that there was much more we needed to discuss, but for now, I just existed here with him.
His thigh brushed against my knee as he cooked, his warmth seeping through his clothes and into mine.
My stomach twisted at the scent of food, but for the first time in months, it didn’t repulse me.
He started to hum softly. Andthatwas the thing that finally broke me. The sound of him brought more life to this apartment than it had ever held before.
Even as he set the pan to the side and warm fingers traced the back of my neck, guiding my head to rest against him, he still hummed.
One hand combed through my hair, while the other rubbed slow circles on my back. He didn’t try to make me stop or move away from me before I was done. He just held me for as long as I needed, letting me feel what I’d fought against feeling until I ran out of tears.
Then he kissed the top of my head and went back to cooking.
When he was done, he opened the cupboards until he found the bowls.
Then he was standing between my legs, holding a big bowl of gnocchi. He stabbed some with the fork and brought it to my mouth.
I was well capable of feeding myself, yet I found myself parting my lips and letting him feed me.
It tasted so good.
