Page 79 of Colt
“Someday. Someday, maybe I’ll be able to pick you up.” Except there is no someday, and we both know it. Our eyes connect, and I can feel the acknowledgment of that.
I just step into the tub, and I sit down. I expect him to join me, to slide in behind me, press his hard cock up against my ass.He doesn’t. Instead, he undresses, and kneels down behind the tub.
And he starts washing my hair.
“Is your leg okay?”
“It is,” he says. “Don’t worry. I know how to make sure I don’t hurt myself. It’s been almost three months.”
“Yeah,” I say. “It has.
It’s been three months. Three months since the accident. Three months since everything between us changed. Since his life changed. Since everything changed.
It’s been three months.
And eventually it’s going to fade away with time. Like all these things do. It’ll be nothing but a blip on the radar of my life. And yet somehow I can’t imagine it not feeling big. Not feeling significant. Not being this defining moment in my life.
I need it to not be. I need it to shrink away. But some things don’t. No matter how big they are.
Just like a loss can still feel bigger than the sky after ten years. I think that the loss of this, the loss of him, will be my whole view for longer than I want.
But I let him wash my hair. Those big hands scrubbing my scalp, moving down over my breasts. That’s when he finally decides to get in the water with me.
I let him. I let him fold me up into his arms, let our slick bodies slide together. I let him kiss me until we’re both breathless.
Why does it feel like a goodbye? It’s getting closer to one.
And that makes me want to die.
I’ve loved Colt Campbell since I was eleven years old. I’m afraid I’m going to love him forever.
This is being in love.
God. I’m in love.
It’s not wonderful. It’s painful and terrifying and horrendous.
And it’s going to swallow me whole.
For a moment, I let it. I let him.
I let him kiss me all over the place, let the water make our skin slick, the slow glide of our bodies driving me wild.
He gets out, so do I. I’m a little surprised he didn’t take me in the tub. But when he leads me to the bed, I get it. He grips my face and comes down over the top of me, kissing me hard as he thrusts deep inside of me. Now that he could do this without one leg off the bed. Without contorting. Without accommodating that brace, he’s ready to take me like this. And he does. Hard. Fast. Every stroke a revelation.
It’s like this every time. Like he’s showing me new aspects of myself. Like he’s healing and breaking me all at once.
When I cry out my climax, I know I’m going to break this. Because I can’t accept it.
I can’t accept it.
I don’t just want to walk off into nothing. I don’t just want a quiet end.
I want to fight.
Even if it kills me.
“Colt,” I whisper. “I love you.”
