The way she looked up at me at that moment, like she felt everything I was feeling in her presence, sent me over. “Need” wasn’t a strong enough word for the way I craved her, and suddenly my hands were everywhere, my mouth back on hers, my body nudging us closer to the bed.
It turned into a fever dream after that, a hot blur as we fell into each other while our clothes fell onto the floor.
Soft limbs, wrapping deliciously around me.
Questing hands, setting my skin on fire.
Whispered demands, making me wild with need.
Heavy blankets, featherlight touches.
The rest of the world fucking disappeared as I got lost in every move, every sound, every sweat-inducing touch of Duffy’s fingers. She became my center, the only thing in the world to exist for me, and by the time she fell asleep on me in my room, flights already changed to the next morning, I was worried I’d fallen head over heels in love with her.
26
Duffy
My dad had a follow-up appointment with the pulmonologist the following week, and I was terrified. A big part of me wished my dad wouldn’t be at the appointment because I wanted to ask the hard questions, the ones I didn’t want him to have to face.
My brothers and I all got there at the same time—Joey drove my dad since I had work that I had to finish—and my dad looked good. Tired, but that was becoming more common.
And the oxygen didn’t help.
We got back to the office and the consultation was not what any of us expected. We knew that the scarring was permanent and there was no reversing that, but none of us expected the doctor to use the words “lung transplant.”
We weren’t there yet, and Dr. Sanchez said there were a lot of medications we could try, but I could tell he wanted to make sure we knew that it was a pretty severe situation that wasn’t going to improve on its own.
“Oh, for God’s sake, my lungs are better than a dead guy’s,” my dad said, waving a hand exasperatedly.
He made jokes, seemingly unfazed, which shocked the hell out of me when I just wanted to cry. We all joked along with him, though, because what else could we do?
“Are you taking him back?” Matty asked me when we left the office. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I said, crossing my arms while I waited for my dad to come out of the restroom.
“You guys want to get together later for some beers to talk about the reality of this situation?” Ty asked.
“Yes, please,” I said.
“The PNA at seven?” Joey said. “I’m going to call Dr. Sanchez and see if I can get some more direct answers.”
“That works,” I said, dreading the conversation. But I also knew we really needed to have it. I still wasn’t sure how bad things were going to get.
After I dropped my dad off, I drove back to work, but I couldn’t muster the energy to leave my car just yet. Instead, I called Connor.
“Hey,” he answered.
“Hey,” I said, clearing my throat. “It’s Duffy.”
“I know who it is,” he said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. “How’d it go?”
Things had become crazy-good with Connor since California.
As it so happened, the spontaneous night together in the hotel room managed to tie up all theWhat are we?loose ends. My brain cut the endless string of questions, checked out of the insecure friend-zone concerns, and settled into a blissful state of euphoria.
Because—I couldn’t believe it—Connor and I were truly, genuinely together.
Everything about the friendship aspect of our relationship remained unchanged. We texted constantly when we weren’t together, busted each other’s balls on the regular, and it made me too damn happy.
