Page 37 of Wicked Riddles & Bitter Heartbeats

Atty kisses me on the head one more time and then lets go of me to get out of bed. He goes to the bathroom, and I follow him in there. I brush my teeth and wash my face while he pees. Then we switch and go back to the room to get dressed.

“What is the plan for today?” I ask.

“Food.”

“And then?”

Atticus is not a man of a lot of words, but when he’s thinking too much, he says even less. One or two word responses. Clipped tone, but not rude.

“James.”

Though he has been open about a lot of stuff, there are still a ton of things he’s holding back. He’s given me the basics, but he won’t go deeper than that. I can’t push him. Not everyone is as open as I am, and someone like Atticus is even more closed off. Though he comes across as strong, and he is, he’s also very fragile. He’s like Mowgli or Tarzan. Not used to human contact, unsure how to act around people. He’s been alone most of his life, and maybe part of the reason he can’t connect is because he doesn’t know how.

I’m going to show him how.

I’m going to make sure he knows it’s okay. That some people aren’t so terrible, not everyone leaves you, and not everyone uses you for things.

“Hey, Atty?” He looks up at me, still tying his boot. “You know I’m with you because I want to be, right?”

There is no change to his facial expression. I move closer, standing between his legs and sitting down on his thigh. I put my arms around his neck and make a point to look into his eyes.

“I appreciate what you did for me, but I’m not here to repay you. I’m here because I want to be. Because of you. Maybe you don’t understand it, and I guess I don’t really understand it either, but I just feel like you’re where I’m supposed to be.”

Still no change to his face, not even his eyes. But his arms come around me, and for a few seconds we just stare at each other. I know he understands what I’m saying. He hears me and he gets it and hopefully he believes me too. If he ever wonders about my feelings, I hope this will be a reminder to him.

“Thank you for saying that,” he says genuinely.

My hands slide up to cup his cheeks, and I kiss his lips softly.

“Let’s go eat.”

We go down the road to a steakhouse, where we wait twenty minutes for a table. We don’t talk much while we eat, but it isn’t needed because the silence is comfortable. The food is delicious. I get dessert even though Atticus declines. I offer him bites and he refuses, because he apparently hates chocolate. He pays the bill, and we leave.

“If you want me to get a job, I will,” I say as we get back on the road.

“Why would I want my kitten to do that?” He grabs my hand, kissing the back.

“To contribute.”

“You’re mine to take care of.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m taking advantage of you.”

Kissing my hand again, he puts it down and grabs the wheel with both hands. “I don’t think that.”

“It sounds like there’s a but…”

“No but. I’m just… sabotaging myself, I suppose.”

“What does that mean?”

“I know I can trust you, that you aren’t here for the wrong reasons. I know that because when I say it, when I think it, itfeels right. But even so, there is this little voice in the back of my head.”

“Doubt.”

“I suppose, yes.”

“We all have that. Well, most people.”

---