Page 89 of Trust

We stay tangled, listening to our hearts calm down. He remains close, resting some of his weight against me while one hand gently traces random shapes on my side as if he’s soothing both of us without needing to say a word.

Eventually, he lifts his head, brushing a kiss to my temple before slowly easing out of me. I wince, and he mumbles something I don’t quite catch. Could be sorry, or you’re okay.

I shift slightly, my skin catching against his. The heat, the sweat, the evidence of what happened between us are smeared across our bodies. I bite my lip, hesitant. “Um... I think we’re kind of... sticky,” I say as though admitting a scandalous secret. “We probably need another shower.”

Chris chuckles. “Yeah, probably. We got a little carried away, huh?”

I huff out a smile, unable to focus on anything but the dip of his navel.

He stands first, reaching for me with both hands, and I let him pull me upright. I’m sore, not painfully so, but enough to be aware of it.

This time, showering together is different. The urgency is gone.

By the time we’re toweling off, I’m cleaner in more ways than one. What cracked open in me didn’t destroy anything. It let a sense of belonging take root.

He pulls me out of my thoughts with the promise of food, then heads downstairs. I tell him I’ll follow soon after he kisses the top of my head, pulls on his boxers, and gives me a moment to myself.

We never really dried off after the first shower, too wrapped up in each other to care. On the bed, I spot a smear of red. My breath catches. It shouldn’t be a shock. I knew this could happen, but seeing it makes everything more real. My first time. The way he held me. How careful he was. And now this small mark symbolizing the change in me, in us. I can’t really explain it or predict what comes next, but I know what I felt, and I know I’ll never forget it.

◆◆◆

“You like?” Chris asks as I take in the coffee table covered in finger foods and the TV playing the pre-game show.

“I love,” I reply in awe.

The armchair stays empty and the conversation is light until a thought pushes in. The words slip out before I can stop them, and why should I? They’re fair. “Do you think Cash will be upset?”

He blinks. “Upset?”

“Or disappointed. That we... you know.” I flick my finger back and forth between us.

He pauses with a piece of celery halfway to his lips, then turns toward me. “Sara. No. God, no.”

“You sure?”

“Positive.” He takes a bite, chews, then swallows before continuing. “There’s never been jealousy between us. That’s not how we’re built.”

I’m not convinced.

“He’ll probably high-five both of us,” he adds with a smirk, “then ask if you want pancakes in the morning. Not that he’d ever make them himself.”

My shoulders slump, and my hand stops reaching for food.

“It’s about trust. Always has been. We’re in this for more than possession. If you’re happy, I’m happy. If Cash makes you smile, I’m happy about that too. Same for him.”

I let the words sink in. They make sense in a strange way, but another question is already rising. “Why are you snipped?” I’m not sure if I’m even allowed to ask, but the question won’t let go. He doesn’t look older than thirty. It’s unusual to have the procedure done so young.

He inhales deeply, sinking further into the cushions. “In the Navy we were in a special ops unit. They didn’t want distractions, attachments, accidents.”

A frown tugs at my lips.

“They made permanent contraception mandatory. Vasectomies. Everyone got one.”

My eyes widen. “That’s... extreme.”

He shrugs. “That was the job.”

“And you were okay with it?”