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She jerks her chin away, and I swear I see tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. I sigh again. Before I can analyze the consequences, I pick her up again and carry her into my bathroom. Setting her on the counter, I look her in the eyes. “Sit. Stay.”
That gets me an eye roll and a small twitch of the lips, but she’s still leaning away from me. Knowing I’ll regret this, I pull my gray sweats down with unnecessary force. Betsy’s eyes widen. I wait for the look of horror to sweep her face, but instead she licks her lips.
“Can you pull those down too, please?” she asks in a whisper, her voice slightly husky. I glance down and realize she means the dark boxers barely containing my throbbing erection.
“Bets…”
She shakes her head. “Now, Heath. You’ve never been one to run from an honest conversation and this is bothering you, so show me.”
Reluctantly, I slide my fingers under the elastic and tug them down below my knees. Baring myself to her curious gaze, I feel like an old fool.
Without a sound, Betsy disobeys orders and slides off the vanity counter and onto her knees. She reaches out a hand.
The delicate touch of her small fingers dancing over my thighs and cradling my cock like it’s fine china and might break has me breathing through my nose so as not to lose control.
Betsy
It sort of goes without saying that I’ve never been this close to a real, live naked man before. I would really like to embrace the opportunity by indulging my curiosity. But every muscle in Heath’s strong thighs is tense. I’m not sure if that’s to keep from grabbing me or running away.
I have a brief window here to convince him. So as I gently cup his balls, I mention casually. “You know, my mom always said that if you leave your car in the garage and never take it out on the road, it won’t get a single scratch on it. But isn’t it better to go out and see the world?”
I kiss his left thigh on a particularly bumpy patch of skin. Heath goes suddenly still. I glance up. His gaze has filled with sadness and concern. Rising to my feet, I lean up to kiss his cheek. “It’s okay, Heath. They were killed by a drunk driver, not from living their lives. I miss them, of course I do. But I’m past thinking they should have stayed home instead of going to the grocery store.”
His eyes search my face before he breathes out stiffly. He pushes me back gently, then bends over and pulls up his pants. This is my sad face.
“But you, um…” I bite my lip, not sure how specific to be in my observation.
Heath nods stiffly. “And I will take care of that when you go back to your room to seriously think things over. You’re a sweet girl, Betsy, but do you really want to live out your life with that?” He gestures toward his groin, making me frown. Didn’t I just say as much? I scan his face, looking for any hint of my feeling for him being mirrored back at me. But all I see is concern and frustration.
I nod silently and turn away. I have some thinking to do, but it’s not about his scars. Or at least not the physical ones…
The kitchen is mostly cleaned up, but I do the final scrubbing down of counters and check all the locks. I know perfectly well Heath will eventually emerge from his room and do all this over again, but this way he won’t have anything to frown over.
Then I retreat to my bathroom and scrub my face and brush my teeth. I can feel the unwelcome truth poking me in the ribs, but I’m holding it off until I’m under the covers in the dark.
Once there, with my pillows punched and folded under my head, I take each thing I learned out and examine it. I could probably get Heath to take my virginity. And he would hate himself in the morning. Even if we are married.
And what I realize that hurts the most is if I move out — get my own apartment — Heath would not ask me out on a date. Oh, he’d swing by to make sure the locks were good and I was eating properly. The man has an inspection sheet for his vegetable drawer. But he wouldn’t be coming over in hopes of kissing me or staying the night. The simple truth? Heath loves me, but he’s notinlove with me. And while I could attempt to force it, I would always know his heart wasn’t really in it.
The tears start leaking at the sadness of it all. Because I know Heath isn’t open to anyone else either. A part of me is glad I won’t have to see him with another woman, but most of me is sad. Because what kind of life is that?
I’m snuffling into my pillow to muffle the sound when there’s a heavy sigh in my ear and the mattress dips. The next thing I’m aware of is Heath pulling me into his arms and murmuring into my hair, “Why are we crying, baby?”
6
Heath
Betsy stiffens in my arms and sucks in a ragged breath.
“You know,” I say thoughtfully into the dark, “I always half expected this, to find you in here one day crying over some boy and to not know what to do to fix things for you.”
She stays silent, but invisible question marks are practically flying off of her.
“Except that never really happened, did it, Bets? And if I had to hazard a guess and risk my ego in the attempt, you were crying over me. Isn’t that right, baby?” I rub my hand slowly down her arm. Her breathing is shallow and hesitant, but she’s no longer crying. “And I do know how to fix it, in the short term. But what if I break both of us in the process?”
Bets exhales with a shuddering sigh. “It’s okay, Heath. I was crying as part of coming to terms with the fact that you aren’t in love with me. And won’t be. I don’t need you to try to force it. I’ll find a little place of my own after the holidays and then we can get back to normal. Friends. Okay?”
Her words are a bit strained at the end, but I realize the simple truth in them. She’d rather let me go than not have me fully invested. It’s incredibly mature and generous of her and makes me want to punch walls.
