Page 65 of The Boy from Half Moon

“What can I do to help?”

My ask was a big one, and I worried that a no from him could destroy me. “Is there any way…” I began, losing my confidence and wondering what had possessed me to call him this late. “Could you…”

“Take a breath, Luke,” he said, using a soothing voice that comforted my nerves. “What do you need?”

“I need you,” I confessed. “I need to see you right now. I’m sorry, Tate, but I really do.”

“Are you at the ranch?”

“Yes, but I could walk to the bakery if you could come get me.”

“I’ll be there in less than an hour,” he stated.

“You’re sure?” I replied, feeling relieved as well as guilty. “I’m sorry I can’t take a truck.”

“Listen to me,” he began. “I want to see you, too. Go to the bakery and I’ll get there as fast as I can.”

We hung up, and I had the urge to bawl like a baby. He wanted to see me, too.

* * *

The drive to Tate’s loft was spent holding hands. We said little on the drive, but I felt my calling him from the ranch had both of us on edge. I felt bad and wondered if I was bothering him. I couldn’t speak for him, but assumed he’d felt sorry for me, so he came to get me.

We pulled into his underground parking, and he turned the car off, turning to me. “How long can you stay?” he asked.

“The night, I hoped.”

“What about tomorrow?” he asked. “The rules. The concerns of others?”

“Remember when I told you I understood the risks of courting an outsider?” I asked. Tate nodded. “This is one of those risks.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you called.”

“Yeah?” I asked. “Honestly?”

“Honest. I missed you too, Luke.”

Tate showed me the bedroom I could sleep in if it helped me feel better about the arrangement. After mentioning that I needed a shower, he pointed out the attached bathroom and shower I could use, laid gym shorts and a tank top on the toilet seat and closed the door behind him.

I’d never been naked in a home that wasn’t on the compound, so showering was a huge step for me. I had to trust that he wouldn’t come into the bathroom, as well as wear the clothing he’d asked me to wear. He hadn’t insisted but did say I might feel more comfortable if I wore his clothes.

Stepping from the bedroom, I found Tate relaxing on a sofa. “I’m finished showering,” I said, unsure what he thought about how I was dressed.

“Wow!” he exclaimed. “Look at you, handsome.”

My heart melted each time he referred to me as handsome. I wasn’t sure I’d ever get over the feeling when he complimented me, something I was unaccustomed to. Tate stood and came to face me, reaching a hand to my neck.

I jerked away and assumed I’d hurt his feelings by how he reacted. “Sorry,” I muttered. “I need a warning sometimes, is all,” I added.

He returned his hand to his side. “And that’s okay,” he assured. “This is new to you, Luke. I just want you to be comfortable around me. And please remember what I said before. I will not hurt you intentionally. As long as you feel okay sharing what you’re feeling, we’ll do great.”

“I’m not sure why I called,” I confessed. “You probably require more notice, right?”

Tate held his hand toward me, doing his part to help me feel more comfortable. Once I connected, he led me to the sofa, motioning me to sit beside him. We continued holding hands. I sensed he was waiting for me to relax and feel okay with how close we were to each other.

“Can you tell me what you were feeling before you called?”

“Worried,” I blurted out, looking away. Tate said nothing, so I continued. “I felt unwell, to be honest. Like I had to see you, Tate.” I pressed my hand against my heart. “I hurt in here,” I acknowledged.

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