Page 44 of Leather and Longing
It had been another black day. He’d lashed out at Paul every chance he got, sharp words, clipped orders, silence used like a blade. He couldn’t seem to stop himself. The anger was reflex now, a shield against pity he hadn’t even been offered. And when Paul retreated, when the house grew still again, the only thing left was the hollow ache of guilt.
He shifted under the quilt, restless, his hands curled into fists against the sheets.
What do I miss most?
He’d asked himself that a hundred times, though the answers were endless.
The colour of the sky at dawn. The silver edge of moonlight on the sea. The quick glance that said more than words ever could. The way a book looked, dog-eared and well-loved, waiting for him to pick it up again. The faces of his friends. His sister’s expression, even when it was stern, even when she annoyed him.
I have no idea what Paul looks like.
He bit down hard on that thought, as though he could crush it before it bloomed.
He missed control most of all. Not only in the bedroom, not only the work he had built his name on, but in life. The ability to walk into a room without fear of stumbling. To cook his own meals without measuring danger in every hiss of oil or every sharp edge. To be alone without it feeling like a death sentence.
The memories rose whether he wanted them or not.
Three months ago, the diagnosis:acute glaucoma.The words had sounded clinical, distant, until the consultant spelled it out. Sudden. Aggressive. Intractable.
Three weeks later, the world had gone dark. He’d fought—God, how he’d fought. Drops, pills, surgeries, specialists. One last desperate attempt to salvage vision in his left eye. But the verdict had been final, unyielding.
Nothing more we can do.
The phrase replayed like a cruel mantra.
He rolled onto his side, pressing his face into the pillow. The smell of salt air drifted through the open window, mingling with the faint scent of old wood from the beams overhead. He hated it, hated how alive the world still was, as if mocking him with what he’d lost.
The waves kept moving. The night kept breathing. And Adam lay there, blind and broken, listening to the sound of his own defeat.
“Call it off, Paul.”
Paul huffed. “Don’t think I haven’t thought about it. More than once.” He stared up at the night sky where blue was giving way to a darker shade of velvet, and sighed. He knew Taylor had a point. If only it were that simple. “I… I can’t.”
“For God’s sake, why not? From the sound of it, Adam’s been nothing but a complete bastard to you for a couple of days now.” Taylor’s voice softened. “It was a good idea, I grant you, but why do something nice for him when he’s treated you like crap?”
Paul couldn’t argue with Taylor’s logic. Adam had walked out of the kitchen and shut himself in the library, leaving Paul close to breaking point. He’d wanted to hit something, punch something,anythingto take out the frustration that bubbled up inside him. His throat closed up tight and his chest constricted as he replayed Adam’s caustic words over and over in his head.
“Is it the sex? Because damn, it’s only happened once. It can’t have been that good.”
Funnily enough, the sex hadn’t crossed his mind. Paul couldn’t figure it out. The way he’d felt earlier, he should have marched up the stairs, packed his bags and told Adam where to stick his job.
And yet he was still there, attempting to do something pleasant for Adam.
I must be crazy.It was the only explanation that made sense.
What surfaced in his mind was a tortured cry, a man in torment.
He glanced at the closed library windows. Adam had gone to bed, but Paul wasn’t about to raise his voice, in case the bedroom windows were open. “I wish you could have heard him, Taylor,” he said quietly into the phone. “That scream. The pain in it. The utter desperation. That’s what makes him act this way, I’m sure of it.” When push came to shove, Paul still believed he could make a difference, that somehow he could get through to Adam.
Taylor huffed. “I think you’re making excuses for him myself.”
“But youwillbe there tomorrow, right? You and David?”
A pause. “Yeah.” Paul didn’t miss the note of reluctance, however. “But if he starts on you again, don’t expect me to keep my mouth shut, okay?” His voice was gruff, but Paul wasn’t fooled for a second. Taylor spoke with love. “And seeing as tomorrow’s going to be a long day for Adam, you get some sleep, okay? It’s already past ten o’clock.”
“Okay. See you at the Beach Shack at midday. And Taylor? Best behaviour, please?”
Taylor gasped. “Me? As if I’d contemplate behaving in any other fashion.” Paul caught his snicker at the end.
