Chapter 12 #2
“You’d be worried about his anxiety?”
Relieved he is at least somewhat aware of what Aidan lives with every day, I continue.
“Exactly. I couldn’t in good conscience pile that on him. He’d go into hero mode. He wants to fix every problem for everyone he cares about, and if something went wrong with the adoption, he’d be all in trying to fix it, which would be unfair for him. I can’t do that to my brother.”
Corey tilts his head at me, a look of sympathy on his face as he sips his tea.
“Don’t you think you’re doing them a bit of a disservice? They’re your family, Nash. They’d want to be there for you.”
“I know, but I’m the oldest. It’s my job to protect them from things that might hurt them. And…” I stop myself, realising in that moment how infantilising that is to my brothers, who are all grown adult men, more than capable of handling their own lives.
“The truth is, you have an amazing family who would want to be there for you every step of the way.” His voice is stronger now.
“Don’t take that for granted, Nash. Please.
It might sound great in principle, being independent and handling whatever life throws at you on your own terms, but in reality, it’s really fucking lonely. ”
His eyes are glassy, and the hitch in his voice tells me how true this has been for him, and fuck if I don’t feel a little piece of myself latch onto him, just so he’ll never be alone again. As friends, obviously. We can only be friends, but I can give my friend a hug if he’s sad, can’t I?
“Come here,” I say, taking his tea from him and placing it beside mine on the coffee table, then pulling him into a hug.
Holding Corey in my arms feels better than it has any right to.
His small frame fits perfectly against my own, and the warmth of him, even with the heat of the fire in front of us, seeps into my bones.
“I think we’re going to be really good friends,” I say, trying to remind myself it’s all we can be. All we should be.
“Yeah… friends,” he says, his voice a little flat. It must be muffled in my chest. I release him from the hug, and he sits up again, cheeks pink. “You’re going to be a fantastic father, Nash. The way you take care of people?” He tilts his head at me. “It makes them feel safe. Special.”
His words quell some of my panic, and when he meets my eyes, I feel myself lean forward a little, closer to him.
“At least, that’s how you made me feel when I felt like I was one stiff breeze away from coming apart at the seams. And if your child’s been in foster care?
” he says, questioningly, and I do a weird sort of shrug-nod, that says both ‘I don’t know’ and ‘yes, most likely’, “for whatever the reason might be, then they’re going to need to feel both of those things. ”
I smile at his words, glad he felt safe when I was taking care of him.
Glad he felt special. Corey is special. He’s sweet and open.
Vulnerable and yet so fucking strong. I find myself wishing that the timing were better.
That he wasn’t in the midst of recovery from a traumatic relationship – one that may very well still come back to bite him on the arse, if his concerns about being found are anything to go by – and that I wasn’t on the precipice of an adoption that will require all my time and focus.
No, I don’t wish I weren’t about to become a father.
It’s what I’ve wanted all my life, but I wish I could have met Corey in a year or two’s time, when we might both be ready for more.
Instead, we’ll have to settle for friendship, not that he’s given any indication he’d want more from me anyway.
I’m almost thirteen years older than him, and about to become a single parent.
I’m grumpy and set in my ways, and my need for control and organisation extends to all aspects of my life.
And I mean all aspects. After what he’s been through, we probably wouldn’t even be compatible.
I sigh in resignation and resolve to focus on being the best friend I can to this man, and hope that maybe, just maybe, he wants to be friends too.
But I think, at least for a little while, until the rightness of having him in my space, in my fucking arms, fades, I need to keep my distance. He’s dangerous for my willpower. Dangerous for my heart. And if I’m not careful, he could consume me.
In just a few hours, we talked more than I have with anyone, except my sister, in years.
He listened to my fears about telling my brothers about the adoption without judgement, but he wasn’t afraid to challenge me either.
As a doctor, it’s too easy to get used to being the one in charge, the one whom everyone defers to, especially in clinical care settings.
And it’s far too easy to let that go to your head until you start to expect that kind of deference.
Corey gives me none of that. In a few words, he held a mirror up to me in a way that nobody – not my parents, not Wren, not even Shelley – has been able to up to now.
I think it’s because the weight of his experiences throughout his life gives him a perspective nobody else I know has.
And it gives him wisdom far beyond his years.
Wisdom he should never have had to learn the hard way, but that shaped him, nonetheless.
When I get home later that afternoon, having dropped him off at Aidan and Rain’s, I pull out my phone and scroll to the image gallery, tapping on the most recent photograph.
I’d snapped a quick shot of Corey in profile this morning, just as he turned toward me with the most beautiful, carefree smile on his face, the sun rising behind him casting him in an ethereal glow, the grey seals dotting the beach behind him.
The way the sunlight makes his auburn hair burn like fire, his pale skin glow, and his green eyes sparkle takes my breath away.
Fuck.
“I’m in big trouble with you, little rabbit,” I say to my empty house.
I look at that photo for a long time.