Page 21 of Reading Between the Lines
Tallus relocated two more hidden clocks to the tub, shushing them as he went. He stood for a minute, peering out the window before drawing the curtains and plunging the room into shadowy darkness.
Then he faced me, hands on his hips. “Do you have a job for me while you nap? I thought I could cruise the town and get a feel for walking distances.”
I wanted to sayPlease lie down with me. Please push my limits. Please cross all the lines. Don’t let me get away with this.But, tongue-tied as usual, all I managed to croak was, “Stay.”
Tallus had the uncanny ability to read my mind. He knew when boundaries could be pushed and when he should hold back. For that, I’d always respected him. He didn’t let me be an asshole without calling me out, and he taught me how to be comfortable with the uncomfortable.
After a lengthy pause, he crawled onto the bed and lay beside me, leaving several inches between us. When I didn’t protest, he brought his hand to my head, telegraphing the movement so I had advanced notice.
“I don’t flinch anymore. Not from you.”
“Not as often. Only if I surprise you.”
“I’m trying.”
“I know.”
His fingers dug into my scalp in a gentle massage. I closed my eyes and sighed away the remaining tension I’d brought from the hospital.
“You haven’t shaved your hair in a while.”
“No,” I mumbled.
“It’s growing in thick.”
I grunted.
“How come the change?”
“Nana gets upset every time I remove it. I don’t like it when she’s upset.”
Nana also thought I was her long-dead husband half the time. That bothered me more. Dementia had stolen so much of the person she’d once been. Every day, every week, she drifted farther away.
“The last time I shaved my head, she cried.” I winced, remembering. “It about destroyed me.”
Tallus hadn’t met my nana, but he understood she was one of the only people in my life who meant anything to me. Nana and Tallus. A small circle of comfort.
“D?”
“Yeah.” Between the massage and Tallus’s comforting presence, sleep had her claws in me, dragging me under.
“Is it okay if I rest beside you?”
I cracked an eye and brought Tallus into focus. The suggestion coiled nervous tension in my stomach and jacked my heart rate into the cardio zone.TryI told myself. Normal people in normal relationships did this sort of thing. I could too.
“I don’t want to push. If you need space, I can—”
“Stay.”
He didn’t ask twice and shuffled closer, planting a delicate kiss on my cheek. It landed over the more severe scar under my eye. He did it often, and I wasn’t sure if it was on purpose.
Tallus didn’t linger in my bubble. He backed off and rested his head on the other pillow. No more touching. No more gentle caresses over my scalp. I yearned for it in a way I couldn’t articulate. More than anything, I wanted the strength and confidence to draw him into my arms and bury my nose in his neck and hair. To inhale him. To absorb his warmth.
But I didn’t know how. Affection was a foreign language I barely grasped. It felt awkward, and I knew I’d get half the wordswrong if I tried. Intimacy spiked my anxiety and drove me to my breaking point.
Tallus knew all these things. Although I’d never explained it, he understood. Mostly. He longed for more, and I’d promised myself on the day we started dating that I would make an effort. I would do my best to hold onto him. I would conquer my mountain of flaws and somehow get to the top.
I unfurled an arm from beneath my head and reached for his hand. Our fingers weaved together more naturally than I expected, mine dwarfing his, our size difference never more apparent.
