Page 9 of A Cure for Recovery

“Ican’t,” he repeats, stressing it, and Lawson’s throat bobs as he swallows, “saywhat I want to say – what Ineedto say. I don’t even – there’s so much, and all of it’s me, it’s what’s wrong withme, Law. There’s not – there’s not anything you’ve done wrong.” He sniffs, hard and wet and gross, and his teeth start chattering with the overload of emotion, but the first sentences unstoppered something inside him, and the words come easier, then – the words comepouringout, through his choked and clotted throat.

“I want better for you. I want to be your husband.”

“Youare–” Lawson starts, and Tommy shakes his head.

“I want to be your husband, and not this – this sad sack you have to take care of all the time. I don’t hate that you help me – I hate that I need help. I hate that I can’t – that I can’t drive myself anywhere, or help you take care of your dad, or run errands for your mom, or fucking – be there foryou, for once. I want to surprise you at work. I want to get up on the ladder and clean the gutters so it’s not one of the thousand more things you have to do. I want to take you to Hawai’i. I want us to havesex.”

“We do have sex.”

They do. Hand jobs, and blow jobs, and, sometimes, at the end of a massage, Lawson’s breathing will get choppy and he’ll dig his thumbs into the underside of Tommy’s ass and saycan I? Baby, can I?And he’ll get himself off, hot jets across Tommy’s back, and then ease Tommy over onto his back and return the favor.

But.

“Fine, I want to fuck!” Tommy bursts out. “I wantyouto fuckme. I want you to break me in fucking half. I want the reason I can’t walk to be because you railed me into next week, not because my stupid fucking useless body is–”

“Hey.” Lawson’s face crumples. Shields down, eyes wet, lip wobbling. “Hey, hey, stop, come here.” He cups the back of Tommy’s head and pulls him in close; tucks his face back into the tear-damp collar of his shirt. His other hand splays across the center of his back, right where the exit wound scars turn the skin a puckered silver-pink, and holds him tight. “Baby,” he says, pleadingly, “stop. Please stop.”

He can’t, though, trembling, tugging at Lawson’s shirt, hiccupping and crying and just…melting down. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I made you wait fortwenty years, and now I can’t even give you the kind of marriage you deserve.”

“Fuck,” Lawson murmurs, rubbing circles on his back, rocking him gently side to side. Even if it feels like being reduced to a sobbing child – which he guesses he is right now – it’s so comforting that Tommy relaxes and goes with it. “Okay, okay,” Lawson says. And they sway like that a minute. Both of them sniffing hard.

Tommy’s crying has quieted when Lawson finally speaks again, and there’s a fierceness underlying the quiet tone of his voice. “Okay, let’s get something straight, first. You didn’t make me wait for twenty years. I could have moved on.”

The idea sends a shudder through Tommy that Lawson definitely feels.

He ruffles the hair at his nape and kisses the side of his head, lips pressed into his hair when he says, “In a lot of ways, Ididmove on. I mean, yeah, you leaving broke my heart,” he says, with a forthcoming bluntness he never used when Tommy was still playing a Cattaneo. He doesn’t dodge and deflect the way he did at first, and it’s as welcome as it is devastating, in this moment. “It was one of the very worst moments of my life. But I didn’t go lie down in the woods and wait to die like Bella Swan or some shit.”

Tommy barks a sudden, shocked laugh, watery with leftover tears, and Lawson huffs into his hair, breath warm on his scalp.

Softer, he continues, “When you opened your eyes in that hospital bed – when you said my name – that was thebestmoment of my life.” Another kiss, this one lingering. “I got you back.” Again, wondering, “I got you back. I got tokeepyou. I never thought I’d get the chance.”

Tommy turns his head so he can press his cheek down on Lawson’s collarbone, and blinks the last, lingering tears from his eyes. Exhaustion closes over him like a weighted blanket, and he gazes fuzzily at the lamp on the nightstand, the framed photo under it, one from their wedding day, Tommy wan and leaning on his walker, Lawson’s arm around him, and his face buried in the top of Tommy’s head, eyes shut and crinkled at the corners. Tommy remembers that he was smiling and crying at the same time.

“I want to be better for you,” he says, voice hoarse from crying so hard.

Lawson rocks him some more. “You’reeverythingto me. I just want you to be happy. And tofeelbetter.”

When Tommy wipes at his face, it’s with a clumsy hand, shaky from the emotional upheaval. Lawson takes a corner of the blanket and gently wipes his face for him. Another small act of care, the sort of thing that always makes Tommy feel small…and that’s the problem, isn’t it? Tommy’s perception of those acts. They only smother him because he’s wracked with shame and guilt at his own weakness. And Lawson only offers them in adoration.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, when Lawson’s done.

Lawson tweaks his nose, chuckles at the face he makes, and then cups Tommy’s jaw and tilts his head back so they can make eye contact.

He looks tired, blue eyes soft and worried, but determined, too. His thumb traces the puffy skin under Tommy’s eye. “If you want me to back off a little, I will. I’m not saying it’ll be easy, but I can try. I don’t want – I don’t want to be the one who makes you feel bad like this.”

Tommy shakes his head, and then leans into his palm. “You don’t.” When Lawson cocks a brow, he says, “Youdon’t. You don’t ever make me feel bad. I just…” He sighs, and it loosens something in his chest. “I’ve not been dealing with recovery the right way. Mentally. I think I thought…” He chews at his lip. “That if I quit the force, and we got married, and my body healed, that that was it, you know? I thought…I don’t know. I should be grateful I’m even alive, but I guess I thought I’d be back to one-hundred percent by now.”

Lawson looks pained, thumb sweeping over his skin, back and forth, back and forth. “I know, baby. I’m sorry.”

A light tap sounds at the door, and, hesitantly, Lisa calls, “Everything okay?”

“Oh fuck,” Tommy groans, and buries his face in Lawson’s shoulder. “I woke up your parents.”

Lawson pats the back of his head soothingly. “We’re fine, Mom. We were watchingHomeward Bound, and Tommy gets all weepy when they leave Shadow behind.”

Tommy pinches his ribs and Lawson squirms and hisses a laugh.

“Sorry, Lisa,” Tommy calls. “We’re good.”

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