Page 145 of Shatter

It opens, all of it at once, every wall I've ever seen him put up falling down in front of me.

His eyes fill and spill over, and a tear drops off his lashes onto my cheek.

"Si det igjen." He's shaking. "Say it again. Please."

"I love you." I don't let go of his face. "I love you."

He makes a sound I've never heard a man make, and he starts to move again.

Harder now, deeper, still slow, but his control is cracking, and I don't care.

I don't want his control, I want him.

I come with his face between my hands and his eyes locked on mine, and it isn't a wave or anything I have a word for.

It's a door opening.

It rolls through me slowly and endlessly, and I cry out his name.

I hold on to his face with my eyes open and watch him watch me come apart.

He follows me over a heartbeat later, his body going tight above me as he buries himself deep.

He comes inside me with my name on his lips and his forehead pressed to mine.

We shake together for a long time.

Neither of us lets go.

He doesn't pull out right away.

He stays inside me, holding himself up on trembling arms, and kisses my forehead, my eyelids, my wet cheeks, the corner of my mouth.

When he finally rolls onto his side, he takes me with him and tucks me against his chest under the blanket.

His right arm is draped across my stomach.

The sleeve is right there, in the lamplight, inches from my face.

I trace it with my fingertip.

The knots and hooks weaving over and under each other up his forearm and around his elbow.

"You said later." My voice comes out soft. "At the spring."

His arm goes still under my fingers.

I wait.

For a long time, the only sound is the ceiling fan and his breathing, slow and careful above my head.

"Look here." He takes my finger in his and guides it to the inside of his forearm, where the knotwork winds tightest. "Follow the line. Don't look at the knots. Look at the spaces between them."

I look.

At first, it's only ink, black lines curling over and under.

Then my eyes adjust, and I see it.