“It took me weeks to get the whole story,” he said. “The man was fine, barely even singed. Passed out from smoke inhalation but that was it. The boy...”
His voice trailed off.
I didn't need him to tell me about the boy he rescued. It was all over the news. He'd been kidnapped four days before the fire, some ten-year-old from a quiet little suburb. His piano teacher had taken him. The things that man had done...it was a miracle the kid survived at all. He barely had anything fire related wrong with him. The other injuries he’d suffered, however, had been horrific. He'd gone home only a couple days before X, and I heard he needed a live-in nurse. Probably for the rest of his life. The kidnapper was currently in jail, waiting for his trial.
When I left, people had still been placing bets on whether or not the guy would even make it to court. I was personally hoping he did. He deserved everything that waited for a child molester in prison.
“All of this,” X said. “All of it, is because I went back for that bastard who should've died in there.”
I paused and raised my head. “You saved a man whose life wasn't worth saving,” I said softly. “That doesn't make you a bad person. In fact, it makes you a very good one.”
He shook his head and I could see him starting to spiral back down toward darkness.
Desperate to keep him out, I asked the first question that popped into my head. “What was the tattoo you had here?” My hands were resting on his forearm over a misshapen swirl of black ink.
“Vines.” He looked away from me. “I had vines going up my arm.”
“What about the other tattoos?” I asked. I just wanted to keep him talking, keep him from that place he went inside himself, where he shut himself away.
“Doesn't matter,” he said sharply. “They're gone.”
I felt the wall come down between us. The conversation was over and whatever ground he'd gained today, he'd just lost more. I didn't know what it was about the tattoos that made him shut down, or even if it was simply a reminder of what he'd lost, but I knew he was done talking.
No matter how much I wanted to, I knew I couldn't force him to talk. We had plans to start working on getting him better. That would have to be enough. If I pushed too hard now, I'd snap the tenuous trust we’d established, and he'd be worse off than before. I had to do exactly what I told him. Take things slow.
That didn't mean I would baby him or coddle him, but I did have to be careful where I stepped. He was a strong man, but right now, he was more fragile than he cared to admit.
And that was why, despite any lingering doubts or concerns I had about my plan, I was going to follow through with it. Whatever it took to build him back up, I was going to do.
I finished my work in silence and then headed up to my floor to think and plan. This wouldn’t be easy.
Chapter Three
Nori
Independence Day. That would be the day of our first session. It was this Thursday, so I’d have enough time to get things set up, but it wasn’t so far ahead that I'd chicken out. It would also be a good distraction. I'd gotten the impression that he didn't want to even acknowledge the holiday. Not that he'd said anything specific. Just more of a feeling I'd gotten from him when I saw him looking at the newspaper Kipp had brought in, looking at the article about the local celebrations that would be happening this week.
X and I didn't discuss our upcoming arrangement or what he'd said about the two people he'd rescued either. In fact, he and I didn't really talk much at all, but it wasn't the same sort of silence that came with negative feelings. It was a comfortable kind, so I didn't worry about it. As long as he knew he could talk to me if he wanted, we were good.
Even though it was only the two of us in the house, I made a point of only spending time with X when it was time for me to change his dressings or go through his exercises the day Kipp didn't come in. And I definitely didn't touch him except when absolutely necessary.
And I didn't want to.
Or, at least, that's what I kept telling myself when I spent my free time trying to figure out how exactly to approach this situation. I thought the tough part would be making the pitch to X in the first place. It wasn't until later that I realized that I had no true idea of how to go about doing this.
I did, however, know someone who did know how to introduce people to that lifestyle, albeit from a different angle. I spent Monday evening debating it, then made the call on Tuesday evening, when I knew he'd be home.
“Tanner.” I stretched out on the couch.
“Hey, Nori.” He sounded pleased to hear from me.
In the background, Bach was playing, and I didn't even have to close my eyes to picture the expensive, but not ostentatious, sound system in Tanner's townhouse. We'd spent many nights over the last few years in that room, listening to music while we made love.