Page 79 of Broken Ice
Panic sliced Beau’s lungs, his throat, his heart. “Please. Please, Emilio, please don’t make me.Please.”
“God, fuck—okay. I’m coming over, just…stay put, okay?”
“Alone? You’re coming alone?” Beau checked desperately.
“Yes. I’m coming alone.”
“Okay. Okay. Don’t bring anybody else, okay?” Beau insisted because what if Emilio chose someone else to fuck Beau and—
“I won’t. Breathe, okay? I’m on my way.”
Beau nodded. He clutched his middle, trying to stay aware through the pain. He didn’t want to be totally out of it if Emilio arrived. He needed to—
“Jesus, Beau.”
Beau opened his eyes. There, a foot away from his bed, was Emilio.
Beau burst into tears, crying so hard his ribs seemed to grind on each other, stomach queasy and empty.
Emilio’s scent enveloped him a few seconds before his body did.
“It’s okay. You’re okay, baby, you’re okay,” Emilio said, shushing him gently.
“I’m sorry,” Beau gasped.
“It’s okay. Did you throw up? Have you eaten anything?”
“I’m sorry,” Beau repeated, realising that not only had he not made a nest, but his sheets and skin must smell like vomit and sweat.
“It’s okay. Let it out, it’s okay, I’ve got you.”
Emilio bundled Beau up against his chest, rocking him lightly, taking all of Beau’s tears and not letting go.
The thread of time unspooled into a soggy, tangled mess, slipping from his hands. When Beau managed to grab hold of it again, he was pressed into Emilio, but his skin was numb, mouth tacky. He felt hollow, mind blank, as if even attempting a thought would just make it echo in the empty cavern of his body.
“I’m gonna get you some water, okay?” Emilio said gently.
Beau tensed but didn’t protest as Emilio pulled away to reach under the bed, sliding the green bag out and grabbing a bottle.
Beau sat up enough to take it. His hands were trembling too much to hold it firmly, and Emilio steadied it carefully, watching him drink.
A slap to the face would have been kinder.
“There you go,” Emilio said, assessing that Beau had drunk enough. “How about some granola?”
Beau shook his head. The very idea of Emilio hand-feeding him made him want to cry again.
“Okay. Come here, then.”
Beau let himself be held, Emilio’s scent both a balm and a poison.
“You okay?” Emilio whispered.
Beau didn’t know how to answer that.
Emilio waited for a few beats. “Do you…do you want me to call him?”
Beau tensed up. Now, with his mind clear of the worst of the heat, he realised exactly what Emilio was trying to do.
