No guns for Chekhov
Irefused Rafael’s offer to carry me inside, much as I wanted to take him up on my new favorite tradition. His ribs needed to heal.
Once the meltdown passed, the enormity sank in. “Ugh, I’m sorry. You just had a horrible, traumatic experience, and here I am making you take care of me.” I curled in on myself.
“You are not making me do anything.” Rafael tilted my chin up. “Molly can get away with a lot, but not the murder of a high-profile victim. I was in no real danger. That was far from the worst experience of my life, though I cannot say I recommend it.”
I laid my backpack on the island and sat down on the sofa. The timing wasn’t right for the gun conversation. Rafael stroked my hair gingerly; as though he was afraid I’d shatter. He disappeared for a moment and came back with first aid supplies and an ice pack pressed to his face.
“Roll your pants leg up.” He crouched before me.
I cooperated, exposing my bandaged knee. “How did you know?”
“You do not walk with a limp.” He removed the bandage, spread ointment over my bruised kneecap, and re-taped it. “How did this happen?”
God, I didn’t want to tell him. I’d cried enough. But his eyes did not waver from my face.
“I…I tried to get to the razor you put away.”
He closed his eyes.
Panic boiled up. “I’m so sorry! It was stupid.
I was just so scared for you and so overwhelmed.
I started drinking and decided to do some work to keep my mind off things.
The very first work email I saw was fucking pink slip!
Twelve years at this goddamn company and they shitcanned me through email!
I started spiraling, and tried to use the step stool to reach the cubby, and I fell.
Dee showed up right after that.” I had to swallow a few times to clear the emotion tangled in my throat.
Rafael gathered me into his arms, tucking my head against his chest and burying his face in my hair. “I should have told you I got rid of it the next day; I am sorry. It has been gone a while.”
“I kept thinking, ‘I can’t do this to him,’ but I just couldn’t stop myself—”
“Shh, I understand. I am very grateful you only have a bruised knee. I assume nothing is broken since Deandra did not force you to go to the ER as well.” He pulled back and kissed my mouth.
I flung my arms around his neck. “Thank god you’re safe,” I murmured between kisses. “I was so, so scared I’d never see you again.”
Rafael cupped my face. “There is no force in this universe than can keep me from you.” A wry grin curled the corner of his mouth. “And no force in this universe that can tell Kathy Friedman no. Now, let me see to your hand.”
“Only if you’ll let me see to your face.”
He cleaned and bandaged my hand with great tenderness, ending with a kiss on my palm.
“That little bit of scruff is kind of sexy.” I ran a thumb along the shadow on his jaw as I swabbed the dried blood away. It wasn’t as bad as it seemed, apart from the black eye, but… “I’m kinda scared to see what’s under that shirt.”
“A body in desperate need of a shower.” He stood stiffly, finally showing signs of the strain. I got up to join him, but he stopped me. “Not this time, my love. I need to be alone for a little while. Will you be ok if I do that?”
“I hate to let you out of my sight, but yeah, I’ll be ok.”
He kissed my forehead. “Do not worry.”
Rafael stayed in the shower for almost two hours.
While he bathed, I changed into PJs. Fuck wearing outside clothes.
The urge to check on him propelled me halfway into the bathroom three different times.
Each time, I scolded myself into respecting his request. To occupy my racing mind, I made Turkish coffee.
As I took the cezve off the heat, Rafael emerged wearing a black silk robe, toweling his hair.
My brain fritzed at the way it draped over his body, but the open collar revealed bruises that slapped me back to reality.
Still self-conscious about the first time I’d tried to make coffee, I offered him the first cup.
“Going to poison me since Molly could not finish the job, eh?” Rafael grinned at my flustered blush. He took a sip, and his brows raised. “Huh. I did not see my life flash before my eyes this time.”
“I swear, you are the demon of sass.” My eyes drifted to the 9mm in my backpack that had kept me company while I brewed the coffee. I tempered my voice with what I hoped was gentleness. “I don’t make a lot of demands about what you do with your space, right?”
Rafael caught the glance. “You do not. Go ahead and say it.”
“I don’t want the nine here. No Chekov’s gun, thanks. I’m not anti-firearms, but your temper is way too volatile.”
He exhaled heavily and took another ice pack from the fridge, pressing it to his eye.
“I do not like it, but I hear you. You stopped me from making an extremely bad, emotionally-driven decision, and I am grateful, even if I was a shit in the moment.” He nodded to himself, coming to some internal decision.
“I have two others as well. If it makes you feel safer, I will get rid of all of them.”
“You must really love me.”
“Canimin ici, I fucking adore you. I would do anything for you, my windup girl.” Rafael rested his chin on his hand, staring at me. “I mean that. Anything.”
An idea coalesced. “In that case, I have a much bigger request.”
Rafael’s brow creased as he straightened. He set the coffee cup down with exaggerated care. Oh, my heart. It hadn’t occurred to me he’d worry I’d ask to violate his boundaries.
I waved placating hands in front of my face. “No, not like that. I wanted to ask if you would write out the sheet music for the song you composed for my book and let me print it in a special edition.”
His shoulders relaxed, and his eyes brightened. “My love, I will happily shower you with music. You honor me beyond measure with that request.”
“‘Beyond measure’… Was that a music pun, you big nerd?”
Rafael laid a hand on his heart in mock offense. “I would never.”