Abbot sets his jaw. “It wasn’t nearly sufficient.”
“Were you there when she died?”
Liesl so very pale. His father completely, terribly still.
He nods once and tips his head up to stare at the ceiling, fighting the burn in his eyes until it recedes.
“That’s good,” Ned says softly.
“She likely wasn’t even aware.”
“She was.”
“You can’t know that.”
Ned offers a small smile. “You can’t either, then. Hey. Come here.”
“No.”
“Then I’m going to come over to you, okay?” And he does, leaning closer, shifting his weight in the small space between them.
Abbot watches him, wary.
“I’m going to kiss you,” Ned says, and then he does, cupping Abbot’s cheek in one warm hand, tipping his face and kissing him once, gently.
He pulls back. Abbot finds himself watched, Ned’s eyes moving as he takes him in.
“You are the most precious, precious man,” Ned whispers.
“I’m not.”
“I love you. And I want everything about you.”
“You don’t.” Ned doesn’t even want to live with him.
Before Abbot can say that, Ned is kissing him again. Small, quick kisses, one after the next. Every time, Abbot braces for him to pull back, and every time, Ned doesn’t. He just presses closer, coming to kneel beside Abbot, crowding close.
His kisses gain momentum, and Abbot lets them, allowing Ned to tip his chin. Abbot meets the nip of Ned’s mouth, the tease of his tongue.
When Ned pulls back for a breath, Abbot finds his fingers knotted in Ned’s shirt. He’s pulling the fabric too hard, but he can’t quite loosen his grip.
“It’s not you I don’t want to talk to,” Abbot says. That’s important to get out. He knows that through the numbness that’s taken hold of him.
“I can understand that,” Ned says.
Yes, because what Abbot did was awful.
But Ned stays kneeling over him, close enough that Abbot can feel him breathe. He’s not prying Abbot’s grip loose. Not twisting away.
“Abbot, I’ve got you,” Ned says, tipping their foreheads together. “And I’m not going anywhere.”
25
NED
Ned wakes up and immediately reaches across the bed.
The covers are pulled up tight.