30. Chapter 30
Henrik
“A re you sure this is all right?”
Mal laughs softly. “For the tenth time, yes.”
I frown as I bring the pasta to the table. “But I had reservations at—”
“Henrik, this is what I want, okay? I don’t need fancy dinners. This is perfect for me. For us .”
I let out a breath, setting the serving dish down and taking off my oven mitt. Mal grabs my hand, squeezing lightly and tugging me close. One of the kittens bumps into our joined hands, meowing lightly.
“I appreciate the thought. I really do,” Mal goes on. “And if you want to go out sometimes, I’d have no problem with that. I’d enjoy that with you. But I like our nights eating in. And I missed this. Being here with you and the boys.”
“Okay,” I say with a nod, taking Mal at his word and accepting his preference for humble over hauteur. It’s one of the things that immediately set him apart from the other escorts, after all. He never did ask for more.
But I do hope he lets me pamper him at least a little.
Mal squeezes my hand one more time and then lets go. The clank of silverware tells me he’s dishing up his pasta, so I take a seat kitty-corner from him—our customary positions at the table. Like usual, I hook my ankle over Mal’s, and he hums happily.
“Are you going to eat with the cats on your lap?” I ask when one meows again.
“Sure am,” he says.
I shake my head, but there’s a smile on my face as I fill up my plate. After I’ve had a couple bites, I broach the topic I know needs to be discussed further.
“I’d like to talk more about what happened,” I say gently.
“We can do that,” Mal replies.
I twirl some more pasta but leave it on my fork. “What I said—”
“You already apologized, Henrik. I’m not holding it against you,” he cuts in, and although Mal has been in high spirits since our conversation at his workplace, I know I hurt him. And I know I need to do everything I can to make it right.
I’d apologize a hundred times more if it’d help. But I don’t think that’s what Mal needs. Like Benjamin said, he deserves the whole truth.
“I want to make sure I explain myself fully,” I say. “Not for exoneration, but so you can understand why those words came out of my mouth in the first place.”
“Okay,” Mal replies, reaching over and squeezing my arm, and the fact that it’s him comforting me makes me shake my head. He’s too good.
“I said I was upset about you being a porn star. It’s not because I judge your choices, but because I was— am —jealous of what other people get from you.”
“You did say that, but what do you mean?” he asks gently. “I don’t have a romantic emotional attachment to any of the men at my job.”
I blow a breath through my nose, setting down my fork.
“I’m not jealous of the ones you worked with.
I’m jealous of everyone else out there. The fact that they can see you, Mal.
I hate that they can watch you, that they know what you look like when you’re most bare.
I don’t want them to have that privilege over me, and I recognize how archaic that is.
I get it—I do. But I am protective of the things and people I care about, and that feeling is exacerbated tenfold with you. ”
“Oh, Henrik,” Mal says. His chair screeches lightly across the floor, and then there’s the sound of soft scampering on the ground as the kittens pad away. “You’re going to want to scooch back because I’m coming in.”
“What?” I ask, even as I do what he says and back up my chair.
The next second, Mal is in front of me, his hands clasping either side of my neck. I lift my face, hands reaching. Finding hips, I grasp him tightly.
“I have never in my life felt more seen than I do with you,” he says clearly. My breath stutters. “So don’t be jealous of them. They don’t see me, not the real me. You do.”
I drop my head forward, leaning against Mal’s stomach. My arms circle his body, and I hold on tight.
“I’ve been alone most of my life, Mal,” I say, my lips brushing the soft cotton of his shirt.
“I wanted it that way. I have my family, of course, and they’re great, despite their overprotectiveness.
” I huff. Pot meet kettle. “But it was a point of pride for me, my independence. I valued it, and I put it above nearly everything else to prove I could get by in this world as a blind man. To prove I wasn’t at a disadvantage.
I didn’t realize the only person I was proving it to was myself. ”
Mal’s fingers card through my hair lightly, and I pull back so he can see my face.
“The truth is I was lonely,” I admit. “That day I woke up without that final percentage of my vision, I’d never felt so utterly alone.
There was nothing. No spot of color or light.
No one. And for the first time, I’d regretted pushing everyone away.
Apart from Benji, of course. He’s always been there for me, that pain in the ass.
He’s saved my hide more times than I can count.
And he was there for me that day it went dark. And then there were others.”
“The escorts,” Mal fills in.
“Yes,” I confirm. “But never, not once, did I feel about any of them the way I feel about you. The way I felt almost immediately. I knew you were different. And that scared me.”
“And now?” he asks lightly, brushing my lower lip with his thumb. I kiss the pad.
“Now, the only thing that scares me is the thought of you walking out that door again.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he says softly.
I nod, breathing deeply and expelling the air. “I know we have a lot to talk about. A lot to work out still. And God, Mal, I want to, need to, work that out with you. But would you please stay with me tonight? Because fuck , I missed you so much, too.”
He dips down, his lips at my temple. “Like I said, I’m not going anywhere.”
I nod again, letting Mal tug me to my feet.
Dinner forgotten, we head back to my bedroom— our bedroom soon, I hope.
Mal doesn’t turn on the light as we climb atop the covers, each of us on our sides facing one another, and for the first time in days, that tight band around my chest loosens.
Mal is here. He’s with me. And I can breathe again.
“I, uh, talked to my psychiatrist,” Mal says softly, his fingers skating over my shirt. Mine are in his hair. Always that hair. “She gave me a new diagnosis.”
“She did?” I ask, surprised.
He nods. “I still have panic disorder, but I guess I also have, uh, PTSD?”
My hand stills. “Oh, Mal. Are you all right?”
He puffs a breath. “I think I will be.”
I run my fingers through his tresses. “I’m so sorry I wasn’t there.”
He scoots a little closer, and I throw my leg over his, tangling us together.
“It’s okay. You can’t be there all the time.”
“I wish I could,” I admit.
“Mm, well. We’d probably have to be chained together for that to happen.” I smile, not at all disliking the idea of that, and Mal laughs. “Should’ve figured you’d like that, you barbarian.”
I shrug. “What can I say? I’m quite possessive over you.”
“Yeah, you are,” Mal says, although he doesn’t sound particularly upset over that fact. “I wish I wouldn’t have run.”
“What do you mean?”
“That night. I left, and I wish I would’ve stayed to talk things through,” he says.
“To be entirely honest, I wasn’t in a good headspace that night. Maybe it worked out for the best that I had time to cool down. To realize what was real and what I was imagining,” I admit. “But…I didn’t like being away from you, so maybe not.”
“How about next time—”
“I don’t want there to be a next time, Mal,” I cut in.
He smooths his hand over me, rubbing my side. “What I mean is next time we have a disagreement, let’s stick together. Even if we need some time to work things out inside our own heads, let’s do it side by side.”
“Yeah,” I agree, throat tight. “Side by side. I like that.”
We’re quiet for a moment amidst the comfort of once again being near. My hands wander gently over Mal. Feeling his shape. Reassuring myself that he’s back, that he’s real. Recommitting every piece of him to memory.
“I have a question,” I say at last, knowing I need to address my jealousy, even though Mal told me I have nothing to be jealous over. His words soothed me, I’ll admit. But they didn’t answer one particular detail.
“Go ahead,” Mal says, his finger toying with my chin.
I buck up my courage. “Will you be resuming your job at the porn studio?”
Mal’s fingers stop their motion for a moment, but then he continues his lazy exploration of my face in the dark. “No, Henrik. I know how much exclusivity means to you.”
I shake my head. “You’re not under contract to me anymore, Mal.”
Mal scoffs. “Maybe not, but I still know you , and I know you wouldn’t be okay with it.”
“But it’s not my choice,” I say, not liking the words but knowing they’re the truth.
“You’re telling me if I fucked other men, even for work, you’d be okay with it?” he asks incredulously.
“No, I’m not saying that,” I admit. “I would have a very, very hard time with it. But if it’s something you need to do, I think we should talk about it. If you’re only quitting for me—”
“I am,” he says immediately, making me scowl. But then he goes on. “I am quitting for you because porn was only ever a job to me. It was just money. You mean more to me than a job. But Henrik? I don’t even want to do it anymore.”
I breathe out in relief at that. “Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ve thought about it a lot this past weekend, and even sitting in that team meeting, I couldn’t stop thinking about how I wanted to be done. Now that I know what real intimacy is, I don’t want to simply go through the motions again.”
“Oh, Mal,” I say softly, brushing my fingers along the stubble at his jaw.
“I never felt bad doing it before. I really didn’t,” he says. “So don’t feel sorry for me. I liked my career, but I’m ready to be done. I’ll find something else.”
“You don’t need another job, not if you don’t want one. I can support us.”
He huffs. “I’m not going to live off your money, Henrik.”
“Mal—”
“No, I’m not. I told you before, I never wanted it.”
“And I believe you,” I say, pushing up and rolling on top of Mal’s body.
He welcomes me instantly, settling on his back and bracketing his legs around my hips, holding tight.
“But please let me help you where I can. I want to do that. If you want a job, I won’t stop you.
But you don’t need one. I have a lot of fucking money, Mal. ”
He huffs out an amused laugh, and I smile.
“A lot,” I go on. “And I can’t think of a better use for it than making the man I love happy . I just want you to be happy.”
Mal is silent for a moment, but his fingers trace my back lightly. I drop my face against the side of his head, inhaling deeply, letting his coconut scent infuse and settle me.
“I don’t want to do porn,” Mal says again, and I nod slightly, utterly relieved.
I would have accepted it; I wasn’t lying about that. I would have hated it, but I would have accepted it. But I’m so grateful the only one holding the honor of touching this stunning man will be me.
“But…maybe I could do something with Keith at the shelter,” he goes on.
“Yeah?” I ask, thinking that sounds just about perfect for Mal.
“Yeah. That would be nice. Volunteering more of my time there.”
I smile against the side of his head, his hair tickling my face. “You’re lovely, Mal.”
His chest hitches under mine. “You really love me, don’t you?”
And his voice is so hopeful, so vulnerable, my heart nearly bursts from my chest. I’d never understood that saying before, but I understand it now. The swelling. The feeling of rapid expansion, as if my heart has grown two sizes too big. Too big to be contained.
As if love is capable of reaching out and touching another.
“Yes,” I say confidently. “I really, really do.”
Mal inhales a shaky breath and then makes a sort of hitched “mm” sound. “Would you show me?”
He tightens his legs around my hips, arching up against me, and I understand exactly what he’s asking, but it gives me pause. “We still have so much to discuss. So much air to clear. We don’t need to rush anything.”
“Hen,” Mal says lightly, and there’s that bursting again. That swelling inside my chest. How I’d missed that word. “I’m not worried about that. We have all the time in the world to talk. Right now, I want to feel you. Please.”
“Anything you want, Mal.” And I mean it.
Leaning up on my elbows, I drag my hands through Mal’s hair. Our hips are pressed together already, and I rut against him gently, enjoying the little gasps and moans that leave his mouth.
As Mal hardens beneath me, I bring up something that’s been on my mind ever since he let it slip. “You once said that the sex you’d been having wasn’t about you. That it wasn’t for you.”
“It was never like that with you, Hen,” he says, sliding his hands down my arms and holding my biceps through my dress shirt.
Although he sounds sincere, and that gives me more satisfaction than I can say, I forge on. “But what, specifically, do you want? What would you choose? What’s your ultimate fantasy?”
Mal is quiet for a moment, his heels on my ass urging on my slow, grinding movements. He’s fully hard now against the inside of my hip, and even though I wish all these clothes weren’t between us, it can wait. Mal deserves my full focus.
“What I want,” he finally says, his words measured, “is for you to hold me after.”
My breath whooshes out of me, and I sink down, stuffing my face into Mal’s hair to hide the sudden tears escaping from the corners of my eyes. “I will hold you tonight and every night after if you’ll let me,” I tell him, throat tight.
“I’d really like that,” he replies softly, his hands rubbing up and down my back. “Would you kiss me, Henrik?”
I nod, wiping my eyes, and drawing back, I press my mouth to Mal’s for the first time in days.
It’s sunshine and waves and lemon tea rolled into one.
It’s the feeling you get at the end of the day when the suit and tie are gone and you can just be again.
It’s fizzing anticipation and the excitement of summer, of running in the street as a kid and riding your bike down to the corner store for dime candy.
It’s pure and aching and right in a way that doesn’t come along often. It’s home .
I belong to this man, and for every day and every night that he’ll have me, I’ll make sure he knows he has somewhere to belong, too.