Repeat(15)

“It’s a nice place.”

“It is.” His hands flex and tense at his sides before he realizes what he’s doing and stops. I’ve strayed into forbidden territory yet again.

Times such as these, I always wonder what he’s thinking, what he’s remembering that’s set him on edge. Probably he’s dwelling on the good old days. Back before he did or didn’t cheat on me. But even I know better than to ask what’s on his mind. This is exactly why I avoid contacting him. Why I didn’t text him after Monday’s hospital brouhaha. Because occasional communication with him feels safest. He’s less likely to turn his back on me if I don’t push. Though I really want to push.

As if sensing my curiosity about things best left unsaid, he speeds up, his long legs stretching, leaving me behind.

“Frances and I did some girl bonding this week,” I say as he turns the corner and we cross the road to enter the large green expanse of the park. I think our pace borders on power walking. At any rate, Gordon seems content to follow and I do my best to keep up. “We’re getting along better. I feel like progress has been made.”

“Good.”

“Did you have a busy week at work?”

“Yeah.”

All right. So everything is horribly awkward again. But I can fix this. “Resting and staying in was annoying. But it gave me a chance to start rereading the books.”

A nod.

“Got a fair way into The Stand by Stephen King. It’s awesome.”

A grunt.

Okay, I can’t fix this. The man is in unhappy land and I’m lost at sea. Instead, I give up on Ed for the moment and focus on the dog. This involves me crouching down to deliver belly rubs followed by a brief discussion on the merits of various things for peeing on. Chain link fence was a bit of a bitch, but wooden picket appeared to be quite satisfying. In the park, he’s mostly moved on to trees. Gordon seizes the opportunity to overwhelm me with doggy kisses, knocking me on my ass in his exuberance.

“Jesus.” Ed grabs me under the arms, lifting me back onto my feet with ease. “Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks.”

“Be careful. He’s stronger than he looks.”

“Meh. He’s a lover, not a fighter.” I wipe dog spit off my chin. “Too much tongue, Gordy. You got to take it easy on the ladies. Ease them into things.”

“Clem, I’m serious. You need to be more careful.” He pushes his sunglasses up on top of his head, worried eyes looking me over. My ass is given a quick light brushing, his capable hands running over my body with obvious familiarity. I’m being manhandled—and I like it. It’s as if he hit my ON switch and boom. My skin becomes hypersensitive, my breathing is faster, and the want for more is real. More contact. More him.

Feeling this much, however, is a little scary. Cold and clinical are safer. I just can’t seem to reach that state of mind.

“Enough bruises on you already,” he carries on, unaware of my ongoing lust/fear.

“Don’t treat me like I’m made of glass.”

“Then don’t take stupid risks.”

“Are you kidding me?” I ask, voice rising in volume. “I can’t pet a dog. I can’t leave the house. I can’t do a fucking thing without it being a risk. But the bad thing already happened, Ed, and guess what? I survived. I could have died, but I didn’t. And I am not going to live the rest of my life in fear. So back the hell up. Stop touching me.”

Mouth slightly open, he just watches me, his hands retreating back to his sides.

It takes me a good minute to calm down and get a handle on things. I didn’t exactly mean to rant. In all honesty, I’m not sure where it all came from. Frances irritates me now and then with her caution and things not said, but generally I handle it okay. At least, I don’t verbally abuse her in public. Thankfully, the party in my pants has calmed down.

“You okay now?” he asks, sounding subdued.

“Yes.”

He moves the sunglasses back into place, covering his eyes. “All right, then.”

Gordon looks between us before taking a step or two onward. A bee crosses his path and he of course sniffs at it with interest.

“Gordy, irritate the bee and you’re going to get stung,” I say, leading him onward, away from temptation. “Not a good life choice.”

“I think there’s something in that for all of us.”

Though I’m pretty sure he’s teasing, I don’t dare speak.

“You were enjoying yourself and I overreacted,” he says, a late-afternoon breeze ruffling his hair. He’s like something out of an ad, too perfect, too pretty, too much in general. “I’m sorry, Clem. Shouldn’t have touched you without your permission either. When we’re together like this, sometimes I forget.”

I snort. “You forget? Try being me.”

At this, he laughs, shaking his head. “How can you make jokes about it?”

“Dark humor has its place. God knows, being depressed all the damn time would just be boring.”

“Fair enough.” The corner of his lips creeps up. “Wow. You sure told me. You know, you wouldn’t have done that before. Or at least, not until you’d stewed on it for about three days, making us both miserable in the process.”