Chapter 30 #2
Toby begins to deal out the cards between us. “Are you up for trying Oh Hell tonight?”
“Sure. I think I remember that from school,” I say.
We start to play, and the reason for the game’s name soon becomes exceedingly apparent because it feels like every round, I’m cursing as Toby beats me again.
“How did you suddenly turn into such a card shark?” I ask.
He keeps his eyes on shuffling the deck. “I used to play this with my mum.”
Toby’s demeanor always changes whenever he talks about his mother, his brows coming together, his lips pressing into a thin line.
There seems to be this block in Toby sometimes. We’re intimate in many ways, and I feel all my walls have now crumbled due to our unique situation. He knows almost everything about me now. Yet, it doesn’t feel like the return is true.
Did losing his mother at such a formative age cause him to guard his heart more carefully? Or maybe he’s simply better at keeping all the intimate moments between us in a box labeled survival sex.
I haven’t wanted to pry and ask more details about his mother, but now, I find myself longing to know more, to peel back another layer of this man.
“Tell me more about her,” I say.
Toby’s shoulders stiffen. “What do you want to know?”
“What was she like?”
He hesitates.
“She was kind,” he says finally.
“What about your father?”
“He died when I was five, so I don’t really remember him.
But Mum…she shattered after he died. It’s weird because she was so independent in some ways, like she insisted on keeping her name when she got married, but she was lost without him for a few years.
She’d watch all these romantic movies and sob over them. ”
I can only imagine how that shaped Toby as a small boy, helplessly watching his mother as she grieved.
“What else do you remember about her?” I ask.
As we play, Toby tells me more about his mother. How she was so bright and funny. “She was always making me laugh, even when things were tough. She had this way of finding the humor in everything, turning even the darkest moments into something we could smile about.”
Toby has a brief glimmer of a smile as he lays down another trump.
“We had so many in-jokes, so many little rituals that were just ours.”
“Like the funny idioms you used to make up together,” I say.
“Yes. Like those. I never told anyone about those.”
“Besides me,” I say.
Toby looks up, his hazel eyes intense yet somehow vulnerable in the flickering firelight. “Besides you,” he echoes.
“Did she have any other relationships after your father?” I ask.
Toby is silent for a long time while he deals out the hand. We’re up to eight cards, so it takes him a considerable amount of time.
“My mother had one relationship when I was a teenager,” he says finally. “And I had to deal with the repercussions of that.”
“What happened?”
Toby’s mouth settles into a thin line as he picks his hand up.
“Her boyfriend…he didn’t treat her very well while they were together,” he replies. “Then he broke up with her unexpectedly, right before she got sick. I know there’s no medical evidence, but she was so heartbroken, and I think she didn’t have the emotional reserve to fight the cancer.”
I sort my cards into suits, my mind churning.
If Toby bore witness to his mother going through heartbreak not once but twice, it’s no wonder he puts barriers in place to protect himself. It’s no wonder he’s developed his I don’t need anyone else attitude. It’s self-protection.
Talking about this has made Toby upset. The evidence is in the tension in his jaw, the way his hands tighten around his cards.
He looks at me, those hazel eyes brimming with some emotion I can’t quite discern. A mixture of sadness and anger.
“Are you ready to bid?” I ask.
He suddenly puts his cards on the floor. “Actually, let’s call it a night. I’m tired.”
I try to hide my surprise. “All right.”
Toby stands abruptly. “I’m going to bed.”
He stalks around the cabin doing his usual bedtime routine, brushing his teeth over the bucket, banking the fire while I pack up the cards.
When I make it to bed and slide under the covers, he’s lying stiffly on one side. The bed is small, but it normally doesn’t matter.
I gingerly reach out my arm to touch his, because that’s what happens every night when we’re in bed together. We have sex. It’s routine now, and it’s definitely a better sleep aid than a hot chocolate.
But instead of coming towards me with a snarky comment, Toby flops onto his back to stare at the ceiling.
“Sorry…I’m just not in the mood tonight,” he says.
“That’s all right,” I reply softly.
We lie rigidly on our narrow bed with less than an inch between us, not touching, only staring at the ceiling.
I wish I knew what was going on inside Toby’s brain right now.
But I’ve got another conundrum to occupy my mind.
Why does seeing Toby hurting hurt me too?
I turn onto my side and try to fall asleep, but the enticements of Hypnos, god of sleep, evade me tonight.
Something doesn’t feel right. I realize it’s because I’m not touching Toby. Since our first night out here, we’ve always slept with our bodies curled together.
From the way Toby is tossing and turning on the other side of the bed, he’s also finding it difficult to sleep.
Suddenly, I feel shifting on the mattress, and Toby is here, nestling his face into my chest, his arm settling around my waist.
“I can’t get to sleep without holding you,” he says sleepily.
Happiness inflates my insides, and I put my arms around him, pulling him tighter against me.
And finally, I’m able to relax and let sleep claim me.
I’m woken hours later by Toby shaking me. “Harry, Harry.”
I sit bolt upright. “What is it?”
“Come outside. You need to see this,” Toby says.
Oh God, are there wolves? A bear? What unknown factor is the Nordic wilderness hurling at us this time?
But Toby is smiling, extending a hand to pull me up. I grab my jacket on my way out of the cabin.
I’m only two steps onto the porch before I suddenly stop, staring transfixed at the sky.
The horizon is lit up with an otherworldly glow. Vast curtains of luminescent green fill the night sky, shimmering and undulating as if given a life of their own by some unseen force. I’ve seen photos and videos of the northern lights, but nothing comes close to seeing them in person.
I watch as tendrils of electric purple and pink shoot through the shimmering veils of green.
“Aren’t they amazing?” Toby whispers. His somber mood from earlier seems to have dissipated, and now there is simply a look of wonder as he watches the sky.
When I remember this night in the future, I know it won’t be the northern lights I remember. It’ll be Toby’s face. His beautiful face turned up towards the sky, the lights reflected in his eyes.
I try to swallow, but my throat is dry.
I move closer to him, and he angles his face towards me, and we share a look of awe.
Then, somehow, his lips find mine. We kiss like it’s the most natural thing in the world to kiss in the face of such beauty. Trying to match nature’s spectacle with beauty of our own.
Because Toby and I are together, and we’re alive, and I get to touch him right now, and that’s all that matters.
Right now, I’m not just living for today. I’m living for this moment when Toby’s mouth is on mine, where our kiss feels imbued with everything I feel for this man.
When we pull apart, I’m breathless, my heart pounding. The lights dance above us, but all I can see is Toby.
“There is no one else I’d prefer to share this moment with than you.” The words fall out of my mouth before I can censor them, before I think through the ramifications of saying those words to Toby.
Toby’s mouth drops open. He looks nonplussed, his lips parting as if to speak, but no words come out. I’ve never seen Toby Webley speechless.
But I don’t recant my words or diminish them with an explanation. I leave them to sit between us as the silence ticks on.
Toby’s eyes are wide in the dim light. He glances at the flickering northern lights for another long moment.
“Yeah,” he says finally, swallowing hard but meeting my eyes. “Same for me.”
His voice is quiet, barely above a whisper.
Then, suddenly, Toby is standing, tugging my hand, leading me back inside the cabin.
Inside, the heat of the room hits us like a wave after the cold outside, but I hardly notice it. Because it’s nothing compared to the heat between Toby and me as we start kissing again.