Page 152 of Jonesing for a Spy

“Those bruises are my fault.”

“And every one of them I would beg for again and again if it meant I got to carry you to safety or take you down our stairs. Or to have your excitement at having your ring.” Taking her hand, I bring her ring finger to my mouth and kiss the knuckle where it sits. “I hate that I’m flaring, but these marks are badges of honor. And they don’t hurt.”

“They don’t?”

I shake my head. “They look way worse than they feel. I’m just not healing properly, but I will, and you, my love, get the joy of me on pred, which isn’t pretty. My fuse is shorter. I can’t drink enough water, and I pee every two minutes.”

“Time to get that prostate checked, old man.” She shivers. “All jokes aside, I thought you were drinking more. But the meds and the naps have me all wonky.”

I fold the covers over her, and she settles deeper into my body. As much as I love this, she will hurt herself sleeping here. Just five more minutes. I need to hold her.

And she needs to be held.

“Freckles?”

“Hmm?”

“Why are you scared?”

She shrugs, her entire body going tight reflexively. Her voice is small and sleepy when she responds. “I just found you.”

“Oh, baby, I’m not going anywhere.”

Her body melts under my words and within moments her breathing has evened out as well. She’s exhausted. Her body is healing and every resource is going to where it’s needed most to heal her knee.

I don’t tell her my greatest fear is losing her, followed closely by leaving her too soon. I don’t have to relay that I run, eat well, and do all the things to give my body the best opportunity to fight… even if it’s fighting itself. Science, medicine, and technology are improving astronomically. There will be a solution in my lifetime—my long lifetime—I’m sure of it. I do tell her sleeping form that I love her and am in love with her, and if risking my body would save her life, I would do it one hundred times over.

It’s what men in love do. It’s what being in love means.

We risk it all. We love hard and loud. I’ll find all the places to be for her what she cannot be for herself, what she should never have to try, and then show up… real, authentic. Her biggest cheerleader, a bulwark against everything that wants to oppose her, the man who is proud to stand at her side, letting her shine.

64

some kind of connection

Strider

The following March

“That’s the last of the boxes. Zipper lucked out with the season starting. Remind me to take up a sport that takes me out of state during moving bullshit. I’m too old for this.” Charlie drops the cardboard box with a thunk in Mirren’s unused guest room and looks to me with confusion and curiosity. “But, seriously, do you really not have more stuff?”

“Stuff? Yeah. Worth moving across the country? Not so much.”

“Yeah, I get that. So what now?”

“Mirren said she needs you in the apartment.”

“I love Scooter, but, damn, I assumed now that she had a man, I’d be off the hook for all these chores.” He sighs and leaves the room, heading out the back door.

Incoming

Mirren

{Thumbs up emoji}

I grab my laptop and toggle to the cameras. This has been months in the making with Freckles and I scheming late at night as I hold her in bed. Ideas have come and gone, but when we settled on this one, we both knew it was a go. We’ve laughed ourselves silly thinking about the set up.

Her knee needed to be healthy, but nearly three-and-a-half months in and a good two practice runs already tested and proven, we’re ready. Hell, my cross-country move was timed around weather, her rehab, and our readiness for this.