Isaac #2
“It is,” I said. “It’s no different from crossing a busy road in traffic despite there being a crosswalk.
Most of the time, people are fine, but sometimes someone gets hurt or killed.
There’s no rhyme or reason, Clay. Sometimes awful, fucked up things happen to good, innocent people because luck is fickle and God can be cruel, but that doesn’t make it our fault.
People drown in pools, they fall and die in the shower, break their necks on stairs, or set themselves on fire trying to light a grill.
Accidents happen; horrible accidents like with you and your family.
But just because you lived, just because you might have done something to change it in time without knowing ahead of time. ..doesn’t make it your fault.”
“I-I should have been there,” he whispered, looking off in the distance and clenching his eyes shut. “I should have been there.”
“And there’s a chance you would have died too.”
“Then I should have!”
I reached out, taking the picture in hand but not pulling it away, turning it up so the happy faces were peering up at him. “Do you think they would agree?”
“I don’t know,” he said roughly. “They’re dead.”
“You knew them better than anyone. You’d know if they would want that for you, or if they would want something else for you. What that is, I don’t know. Only you can answer that.”
He peered up at me with wet eyes and a soaked face, looking like a lost little boy. “What would you want?”
“What? If I were them?”
“Yeah.”
I gave him a sad smile. “I would... I wouldn’t tell you not to mourn me, because that just meant you loved me, and I couldn’t be there with you anymore.
But I wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of your life ripping yourself apart or blaming yourself over what happened.
I’d want you to find a way to use whatever you had to get to a point where you could smile again.
And maybe, find it in yourself to make someone else smile like she’s doing here.
You say you killed them, but you also did this.
You lit up her eyes, and you made your son grin like he was the proudest kid in existence.
You gave them happiness and love that some people only dream of, and in her shoes, I wouldn’t want you to waste all that by eating yourself up on the inside. ”
He tried to smile, but it wobbled and wavered, then collapsed.
“God, you sound like her. Not exactly, but she was like that...always seeing the positive. Even during the worst moments, I could count on her to eventually shake herself off and start looking for the sun again. And if not that, then the stars. And if there were no stars, then she was going to paint them herself until the real thing showed up.”
“Not the worst mentality,” I said softly.
“Yeah,” he said with a little laugh, setting the picture down and gripping my hands. “She would have really liked you. She would have made jokes about leaving me for you, just to get under my skin. She liked to bust my balls too.”
“You seem to have that effect on people,” I said, and felt something loosen when he managed a genuine, if weak, chuckle.
“She knew exactly who she was,” he said with a shake of his head, as if still wondering how such a thing was possible. “That was what drew me to her, the first time I saw her out with her friends. She just...knew. Complete confidence, no doubts in her mind about who she was.”
“So, not like me then,” I said, testing another joke and relaxing when I heard him snort and nod.
“You aren’t the same, there’s...some things,” he said. “You’re actually very different.”
I brushed my hand along his forehead because he seemed to respond well to a gentle touch before. “I’m sorry.”
He gave a wry smile. “You would not believe how sick of hearing that you become.”
“I think I would, even if it’s hard for me to imagine,” I said, tilting my head. “Let me get you some water, okay?”
“No,” he said, his eyes going wide. “Don’t...don’t leave.”
“I’m just going to the fridge.”
“No, just...I’m fine. I mean, I’m not, I just trashed this room, and Reggie is going to have a cow, maybe twin cows, but I don’t need water. Please, I need—”
“Me to not move?”
“Y-yeah...no.”
“No?”
He looked up at me, his eyes drier now, and he’d wiped his face clean at some point.
Beneath the puffiness of his eyes, though, I could see them searching my face, and I felt something shift in the air.
I knew what was coming before he leaned forward, his hands still clasped in mine, and he paused, waiting. ..but for what?
Oh god, he was waiting for me, waiting for me to make the decision, even though this was something he had just a moment ago wanted so badly he hadn’t thought twice about initiating it.
He didn’t want to use me, afraid he was using me to distract himself, just like he had done with so many other men before.
Because, of course, it was men; women would have been too painful, and he could separate himself, sleeping with men so he never had a connection like he had with his late wife.
I tilted my head, and that was all the permission he needed to move that last inch until our lips pressed together.
His reaction was immediate; his hand gripping the back of my head took me by surprise, but I recovered instantly.
His mouth was hot and furious in the way it pressed against mine, his hand gripping my head with an intensity that was familiar and completely foreign to me.
Familiar because it wasn’t the first time someone had kissed me with undisguised desire, but.
..this was the first time in recent memory that I wanted to feed into the feeling of the other person rather than just accepting it.
What a bizarre and wonderful feeling.
There was a saltiness to his kiss as he pushed me back to clamber atop me as carefully as he could.
My chest ached when I realized I was probably tasting his tears, and I briefly wondered if this was a good idea.
He was, by his own admission, the type to use sex to escape his pain.
At the same time, I was on the receiving end of someone’s desire, motivated purely by the grief in their heart and a desire to feel something other than pain.
Maybe it was selfish of me to continue. Because I could feel his hand slide down my chest as he continued to hold the back of my head with the other.
His fingers dragged against my skin with only my shirt between us, and I felt an old but desperately familiar longing ignite inside.
I didn’t want this just because he wanted it, perhaps even needed it, I wanted this because. ..I wanted it.
“Ow,” he hissed when his hand came down to the floor to steady himself. “Fucking mess.”
It would be bad to point out the mess was because of him, so instead I took his hand and looked at it.
There was a sliver of ceramic from the mug in his palm, and I plucked it out, watching a small bead of blood form.
It was a minor thing, but it sobered me up enough to realize that doing this on the floor wasn’t the greatest idea.
“C’mon,” I said softly, grabbing a small rag to press over his hand before getting to my feet, pulling him up with me. His attention was locked on me, and I smiled gently as I took a step back, trying to avoid the mess but also trying to be obvious that I was heading for the bed. “Get on the bed.”
He glanced at the bed and then back to me before stepping over another large shard of the mug, and then did as I said and sat on the bed. “Sorry.”
I didn’t think it was necessary to respond to that, not with words.
I stepped closer, placing my hands on his shoulders and kissing him again, crawling into his lap so I was kneeling on each side of him, but still able to put my weight on his legs.
I was already sensing him fighting to figure out what to do, what he wanted, and what he could do.
I smiled at the thought. Sure, this wasn’t my first time having to take control because my partner was unsure of themselves, but it was kind of hilarious that Mr. Playboy was so unsure.
I ran my hands down his shoulders to rest on his chest, groping to feel his muscles as I tilted my head to burrow my face in his neck.
I heard the catch of his breath as my mouth found his skin, my teeth experimentally scraping down his neck and finding he was holding his breath.
I bit down on the muscle of his neck running to his shoulder, and he gasped softly, his body quivering slightly.
Smiling, I slid my hands under his shirt, feeling the warmth of his skin.
That same familiar, if old, feeling of excitement shot through me at the heat radiating against my hands as I gripped his sides, feeling his stomach muscles flex under my thumbs.
I eased down enough to feel the pressure of his groin against my ass, chuckling when I felt the presence of his excitement.
“Isaac,” he began, but I gave his neck another nibble and made him groan.
Sliding off his lap, I gripped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it over his head with a little help from him before tossing it to the side.
His upper body exposed, I gave his chest another stroke before easing down to my knees.
His eyes were locked on me as I grabbed the drawstring of the pants he’d changed into while I’d been sleeping, loosening them.
That same uncertainty I’d detected in him was still hovering, but I ignored it for the moment as I reached into his pants and gripped his straining cock.
“I see,” I said in an approving tone as I stroked him slowly, getting a feel for every inch of his cock before drawing it out of his pants to put it on full display.
The tip shone slightly from his excitement, and smirking, I ran my thumb over the head to watch his stomach flex and his dick jerk from the teasing touch.
“As nice to look at as the rest of you.”