Page 64 of Possession

His grip loosens until his hand is resting gently on my throat. His eyes are tormented. Even without the blood splattering his face, I would know from his expression that something happened tonight.

I tell him, “I will not stay in that room.”

“But it’sgood,” he says.

“Not for me.”

His eyes dart back and forth across my face. He doesn’t understand. I could try to explain myself, but the explanation doesn’t really matter. What matters is that he accepts what I say.

Our eyes stay locked for a long, long time. I see the shift in his, how his anger fades, how his confusion gives way to acceptance. When he takes hold of me and lifts me from the chair, disappointment drags at my heart. I think he’s going to take me upstairs.

But he doesn’t. He turns and settles into the chair with me on his lap. I shift so I’m crosswise. I tuck my face against his neck. I slide one hand inside his jacket to curl it around his ribcage.

His arms are around me. He’s trembling. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

I rub my thumb against his ribs through his shirt. I kiss his throat to tell him that I know.

“I don’t want you to be unhappy,” he says.

“I know.”

I want to ask him if he’s okay, but I can tell he’s not, so I just let the minutes pass. I let our closeness return.

His chest pushes against me as it expands on a deep breath. He’s starting to relax.

“Do you want me to read?” I ask. He likes when I read to him. I like it too.

“Yes,” he says. Then, “Hold on, what are you reading?”

“The Stand.”

“Fuck.”

“I also found a great copy ofWinnie-the-Pooh, if you’d prefer that.”

He nips my ear. “Are you making fun of me?”

I chuckle. “A little. But I like doing the voices.”

“I love when you do voices.”

“You do?” I ask, pleased. He’s never told me that.

“Yes. Where’s the book?”

“Beside the chair.”

He leans over, muscles shifting as he stretches away from me. I twist to look at him, wondering at the blood on his face, worrying about it.

“Whose blood is that?”

“Liam Crowley’s,” he answers, handing me the book.

“Not yours?”

“No.”

I can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it, so I let it go. All that really matters is that he’s not hurt, and even if he’s not exactly okay, he’s calming down. He’s settling. That’s enough.

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