Page 34 of Crying in the Rain
“Tired?”
“Shattered. It’s been a long day.”
“Tough one too,” Kris reminded him.
“Yeah. Nice end to it, though.” Ade smiled sleepily.
“Come on,” Kris said, releasing him and taking his hand. “Let’s get some sleep.”
13: Checklist
Kris
“Ineed towarn you,” Ade said, unfolding the T-shirt and shorts Kris had offered as sleepwear and laying them out on the bed. “I have a couple of bruises on my arms from being…held a bit too tightly.”
Midway through threading a pillow into a case, Kris lost his grip on it, and it plumped to the floor. He picked it up and gave it a shake. A really hard shake. “If you want me to leave while you change—”
“Oh, no! I just didn’t want you to get a shock, that’s all. I bruise easily, you see, and…well, they look a lot worse than they are, I promise.”
Kris really hoped he never came face-to-face with Ade’s ex, because right at that moment, if they’d been in the same room, Kris may well have got himself into hot water. He wasn’t a violent man, far from it, but bullying, abuse, domestic violence—any exercise of power over someone who couldn’t fight back—was an instant and devastating trigger for him. And here was this incredible person, attractive, funny, sweet, hurting and trying not to shock, because of a hideous scumbag of an ex-boyfriend. However angry Kris was, it wouldn’t help Ade to know it.
As it was, Kris didn’t get to see the bruises on Ade’s arms, as he shoved his shirt off and pulled the T-shirt on in almost one motion, and it was a size too large for him, so it covered much of his arms. Not so the bruises around his neck. Kris turned away, to conceal his shock, but wasn’t quick enough.
A shaky breath escaped Ade. “It’s really ugly, I’m sorry.”
“That’s not why… I just…” Kris turned back and made sure Ade saw him looking at the bruises and not shying away. “I can’t believe someone would do this to you.”
Ade bristled. “Don’t pity me, please. That makes me feel worse.”
“It’s not pity. I want to get in a taxi right now and hunt that bastard down.”
“It’s not your fight. It’s mine.”
Ade’s eyes beseeched Kris to let it go, and he was trying, but it was hard with the purple bruises that clearly formed the impression of two hands around Ade’s neck, symmetrical thumb prints below his Adam’s apple. Suddenly the urge to hold Ade overwhelmed him, and Kris pulled him in tightly.
“Oh God, Ade. He could’ve killed you.”
“Yes. He could, but he didn’t,” Ade said, or that was what it sounded like. His voice was muffled by Kris’s shoulder. Ade laughed and jutted his chin against Kris’s collarbone. “Could you let me go?”
“Sorry.” Kris loosened his grip, but he didn’t—couldn’t—let go completely. He backstepped, steering Ade towards the bed. “Which side would you like?”
“I don’t care.”
Kris released him, finally, and stood back to give him the choice.
“It’s your bed. Get in it and I’ll follow.”
Kris huffed in protest but moved to the left side of the bed. He paused again. Ade nodded to encourage him. Kris got into bed, and Ade climbed in next to him.
For a while, they lay on their backs, side by side, arms touching from shoulder to fingertip, the spark of arousal from earlier lost. Kris was desperate to hold Ade, but seeing his bruises had been a painful reminder of the importance of consent at every stage, and he’d already mis-stepped.
Ade slid his hand under Kris’s and laced their fingers together. “Is that OK?”
“Yes.”
“Are you going to turn out the light?”
“Soon.” Letting go, Kris rolled onto his side and propped up on his elbow so he could look at Ade as he spoke. “I haven’t done this in a long time either.”
