Page 28 of Saul

“No, he hasn’t asked,” Matt said and turned and went back inside.

I turned back to stare at Saul, and desperately wanted to call him Daddy, but I thought I’d ruined my chances of that. I set off between the dumpsters and onto the path. I didn’t think I’d made a sound, but he turned and saw me anyway.

I came to a halt a good two feet away from him, took in his blank mask, and my heart thudded. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t really know how I felt. I wanted his arms around me. I wanted him to tell me I was his good boy, but I had no right. Not unless I could give him what he gave me.

“I asked you before if he was who you wanted?” he growled demandingly.

I wasn’t sure what I wanted, but I knew I didn’t want him. “I don’t want Steven.”

He softened. I could see his body relax. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know you,” I blurted out. I knew Ricky and Chris trusted him and he was doing a job. He was just doing it too well. Dare I say? “I want someone that will stick around.” It was almost a lie. I really wanted someone who would keep me, but I managed not to blurt that out as well.

“I can stick around,” he said in a low voice that vibrated through me.

“You’re doing a job,” I challenged. He was.

Saul opened his mouth, closed it, then shook his head and took two steps away. “I don’t think you’re ready to hear anything I have to say. You’ll get cold out here,” he added without turning around. “You should go back inside where it’s warm.”

Still a Daddy.

I walked to the wall and perched on it. “My mom always said I was weak. She used to say how ashamed of me she was. She’d expect me to play rough with the older boys. I don’t think she’d have cared if I never came home. I always wanted to sneak awayand read, but if she got wasted and saw me with a book, she’d rip it up.” I didn’t know why I was telling him this.

“I get that,” Saul said, turning around. “I get this is fast, and the weekend has messed everything up. Just tell me we can still see each other again,” he almost begged.

I gazed at him. He hadn’t said one word about his family. His parents. Which meant they were normal. And I didn’t want pity. I just didn’t know what I wanted. No, that wasn’t true. I wanted Daddy back. I wanted him to make me hot chocolate and put his spare socks on me so my feet didn’t get cold and beat up anyone that dared lay a finger on me. The want was so close I could almost taste it. But there was still this wall that I couldn’t climb. I couldn’t give my heart without being able to trust him, or was it that I needed to trust myself? I think I’d stayed with Steven because I’d been convinced no one else would ever want me. But did it matter either way when the result was the same?

“I want nothing more than to be your boy,” I said, braver than I had any right to be.

“But?” It wasn’t taunting, even though I wouldn’t have blamed him.

“It’s too quick.”

He nodded. “Which is why I’m giving you room to breathe.” He stepped away, but then he stopped. “No, no I’m not. I’m going because I don’t think I have a chance in hell of you wanting me long term, which is your prerogative.”

“I don’t know,” I said, pleading almost. He looked so sad I ached at that moment to put my arms around him, but that was sending mixed messages and simply wasn’t fair. “I’m such a mess.”

His expression softened, and he stepped close and cupped my face. “I won’t bother you until you call me.” I leaned into him, unashamedly soaking up his strength until I heard a boat, and he looked back and let go.

“I’m going to move near Ricky,” I rushed out, realizing this was his ride. “So, I’ll probably see you with Chris,” I added, a little desperately.

He glanced at the boat as it pulled up and picked up his suitcase. “Doubtful. I just quit.” Then he stepped on the boat without waiting for it to even tie up.

I was curled up in a corner of the sofa in my suite the following morning when Ricky just about barged in. Chris and Ricky had come to find me briefly last night, and I’d just said I was going to bed, so they went to their room.

Ricky was in his Little Mermaid tee and matching pink frilly knickers. We’d had a Brit friend at school once, briefly, while her dad was stationed over here, and she said her Nana called panties knickers. Ricky and I adored that, and they’d been knickers ever since.

“I ordered breakfast because I’m pretty sure you didn’t eat dinner.”

I nodded, uncaring, to be honest. The magic wedding bubble I’d been in had burst, as Ricky said, and I was flailing around in a sea of day-old froth. Well, mist anyway. Fog, perhaps.

I sighed and threw my arm out and Ricky tutted. “No, absolutely not. There’s only room for one drama queen in our relationship and it isn’t you.” And because I seemed to want to prove him wrong, and I’d sat all night in a corner of the huge sofa, completely and totally on my own, I burst into tears, and Ricky flung himself at me and we cuddled in a cocoon of stuffies, blankets, and snot.

I’d never been a pretty crier.

“We need a plan,” Ricky declared, and I gazed at him.

“How can you make a plan from the apocalypse I just created?”

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