Page 50 of Our Own Light

He cringed and said, “No, it’s not.”

“What’s that look for?” Ollie asked.

“Ollie, my marriage to Effie is real. It ain’t romantic, but I love her. I care about her. She’s my best friend.”

“I know you care about her, Floyd,” Ollie said, his voice much softer. “I’m sorry for upsetting you.” He let out a breath and continued on, “So, you love Effie. Were you ever in love with her? I mean, why are you two married?”

Floyd stayed quiet for a few moments while he thought it over. It felt wrong to tell Ollie the reason without first checking with Effie. It was a shared secret. Not his secret alone.

“I can’t say more without talking to her.”

“But, alright, what we’re trying to establish here is that you like me. And that it’s not a problem for you to like me. Yes?”

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Does Effie know you like me?”

“Effie knew before me, even.”

“Well, that sounds very Effie. I barely know her, and yet you saying that is not the least bit surprising to me.”

Ollie moved his hand toward Floyd’s, stopping when his fingers were a couple of inches away. Floyd supposed it was up to him to close the space between them. Studying Ollie’s hand—his smooth skin, long-since healed from the cuts he had received from the slate—Floyd readied himself for that snake nip at him, for it to make him feel even worse than it had on the night the two of them had held pinkies, but nothing happened. Even though Floyd was still thinking ’bout Matt, even though his insides were still a tiny bit knotted together, he still wanted to hold Ollie’s hand. Pushing past the mild nausea, Floyd took Ollie’s hand in his.

“Holy Moses, Floyd,” Ollie said as their fingers laced together and his reaction was so stinkin’ sweet it somehow calmed every bit of Floyd’s remaining unease. “Sorry. I’ve never held anyone’s hand before.”

Once again, Ollie had surprised him by being so innocent.

“Do you want to stop?” Floyd asked.

Ollie squeezed his hand. “Never.”

Floyd couldn’t resist a tease. “Well, I will need to see my family at some point.”

Oliver wasn’t too fond of that comment, though.

“I can’t believe you have a family,” he said. “Actually, I can’t believe any of this. I’m holding hands with a man. With a married man. With a married man who still loves his family. And that’s fine, somehow. Completely normal. Nothing to worry about.”

“Have you ever liked a man before?”

“Floyd, I’ve never liked anyone before. I’m still trying to accept that I’m capable of it.”

That was an interesting thing, one that made Floyd feel special. He hadn’t never met someone like that before.

“I haven’t liked anyone in a long time,” Floyd said, wanting Ollie to feel special, too. “Since before Josephine.”

“Wow, that is a long time,” Ollie said. “So, uhm, what now?”

“Whatever you want,” Floyd said with a shrug.

“Whatever I want? God, Floyd, don’t put that on me! I told you, I have no idea what we’re supposed to be doing. It’s not even like I can try to think back on whatever the hell I learned about courtship all those years ago because, like I said, you’re a man. And you’re married!” Ollie raked his free hand through that nice hair of his. Floyd sort of wanted to reach up and touch it. Before he could, Ollie was talking again. “How are you so calm, Floyd? Unless that means you must have... well... none of this is new to you, is it?”

“No,” Floyd said. “Not to say that I’m some kind of expert, though.”

“So, you’ve been with, what, more than zero men, but less than fifty? Fifty would make someone an expert, I’d think.”

Floyd supposed he had to be honest, even if he wasn’t too keen on talking about Matt much yet. He couldn’t have Ollie thinking he’d somehow held hands with forty-nine other men.

“One.”

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