It was true. She could easily get a foot onto his hip, and from there… As he held himself above her, poised to enter but waiting for encouragement, she truly realized she’d never need to do it — unless someday he might be willing to play that game with her. She smiled and reached down between them to guide him in.
Without her usual focus on controlling and guiding the action, all Nell could do was lie back and feel. Somehow, Eamonn wasn’t just thrusting into her body, but driving himself into her soul.
They slept in, and woke to sunshine trickling in around the edges of the curtains. A glorious day, clearly, and Nell could barely get out of bed.
“But you weren’t this bad yesterday,” Eamonn said, concern in his eyes.
“Second day,” she grumbled. “It’s always worse. Just need a hot shower.”
He helped her to the bathroom and got into the shower with her, holding her against him under the hot spray so the water could flow over her back, angling her so that not too much of it would hit her left shoulder. She could feel his morning wood against her stomach but he didn’t try to make anything of it, thankfully seeming to understand that she was too achy just then for any kind of fun, even though the skin-to-skin embrace felt good. “Are you sure you don’t need to see a doctor?” he asked, wincing in sympathy when she shifted her weight and grimaced.
“It’s only a pulled muscle. I’m fine. This is helping.”
“I’ve got some Voltaren gel, if you want it after we’re done here.”
“That’d be great. Just a few minutes more like this…”
The steaming water streamed around them, beading on the Dermalize covering their new tattoos. Some pale pinkish-yellow fluid had collected underneath his, but she could still make out the letters of her name, permanently inked into his skin just under his collarbone. Ridiculous man. Why?
“Integrity, huh?” he said, nodding toward her left shoulder. “It means that much to you?”
She wondered how much fluid had gathered under the wrap covering it, how clearly the strong letters and graceful swirls could be seen. “It’s… everything I am. Doing right, doing my best, trying my hardest even when no one will know. I—”
She could see the pulse beating in his throat, near a small tattooed star. “I admire that,” he said, so softly that it was almost inaudible against the falling water.
After the shower, he was uncharacteristically quiet, getting dressed without any of his usual flirting and humor. Nell followed suit, putting on her sports bra and slightly damp underwear, feeling thankful that she’d thought to wash them out in the sink the night before. Damp was better than dirty or going bare.
Then, as he rubbed the aromatic pain-relief gel into her lower back, he said, “It matters to you, that I haven’t told Blade how sorry I am.” It was a statement, not a question, and he stood behind her so she couldn’t see his face.
“You know I’ve accepted that it’s none of my business,” she reminded him.
“But would you… think better of me if I did?”
She whipped around to face him, annoyed that he was putting this burden onto her. Why are we having this dead-end conversation again? “It shouldn’t matter what I think of you. Integrity is an inside-yourself thing. Yes, I think you’d be happier if you tried to resolve what happened, but for yourself and maybe for him, not for me.”
His face looked bleak and hard. “Happier? You’ve got to be kidding me. Security’ll throw me out on my ass before I can even say I’m sorry, and then what?” He sighed. “But I know what I have to do. At least I’ll have tried. Will you come with me?”
“What?” I can’t have heard that correctly, Nell thought.
“I can’t do this alone. Will you — please — come with me?”
No! “Look, you can’t do something like this because of what I said, or to make me ‘think better of you.’ It doesn’t work like that.” She wanted to roll her eyes, or stomp her feet in frustration, and most of all she wanted to make him see that you couldn’t fake integrity to buy respect.
“I know!” he snapped back. They stared at each other. She could see his frustration simmering, mirroring her own. “T-shirts are in the top drawer there, if you want one. I’ll be in the kitchen,” he said, when the silence had stretched too far.
She took her time brushing her teeth. Is this almost-arguing crap a thing that couples do? She didn’t generally care enough to let anyone get under her skin, or mind that they didn’t understand something important to her. Still a bit on edge, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to borrow one of his t-shirts, but eventually poked through his drawer and selected one with a Warwick logo.
As she descended the stairs, she smelled hot butter and something cake-like. When she got to the kitchen, she found a mug of tea steaming on the kitchen island breakfast bar for her and Eamonn methodically making pancakes with his back to the door.
She could tell by the tensing of his shoulders that he’d heard her come in, but he didn’t turn or say anything.
“Thanks for the tea,” she said, to break the silence.
“No trouble.” He slid a pancake from pan to plate, added butter to the pan, poured more batter. Then, “I miss them. I want to try to fix things, but I’m a fucking coward, all right? I can’t do it without you.”
Well. Nell took a sip of tea, looking at his stiff back. “Right. So, you are being a coward, and the first step to fixing that is recognizing it and making the decision to do something about it.”
He spun around, looking shocked that she’d just agreed with his self-assessment.
She grinned. “What? You thought I’d be nice and assure you that you’re not a fraidy-cat at all? Me?” That drew a half-laugh from him.
