Did you wait for me all night? I ask, staring at the curtains.

Most of it.

I had to work a double.

Jeez.

Im sorry. Tears spill over my face again. I cant help it. Im glad Im not looking at her.

Forget it.

I cant. But, just know Im sorry. I sniffle.

I know. Dont cry. Please, Dar.

Ill try. I thought I lost you.

Im here. She puts a hand on my hair, gentle, a bit unsure, but sweet, and it feels like absolution when her fingers gently start moving. I close my eyes.

You look exhausted. I tell her a moment later.

Yeah.

I turn and look at her. Her eyes close and as I see her breathe slow and I know shes on the brink of sleep. Shane.

Hmm?

Go to bed.

No, I…

Just go sleep. I wont touch you. Promise.

She smiles without opening her eyes, and then she gets up and goes upstairs.

I watch her as she walks, so feminine and masculine in her carriage, head high, thin, frail shoulders and bones and ripe sweet hips with just a hint of womanly sway.

God, I’m so ***** gone.

I curl up in the warmth of the chair she’s vacated, drink my tea in the numb morning quiet, so glad that shes returned. Thank God shes returned.

I dont know why now of all times I should want to put my head in my hands and sob, but I do. I do for long minutes, trying to stay quiet, so hard my abs ache with it.

Please please please dont let me ***** this up.

I rise, and listen, but there is no sound in the house. I walk into the kitchen, gently set the tea cup in the sink, and splash cold water on my face.

I left left the AC running in my bedroom, and its cold in there. She is curled up on my bed, her position not quite fetal, but I can tell she is cold. She looks thin and frail, clean white fabric of her wifebeater shirt stretched between her shoulder blades. I ignore the temptation to touch her there, on the fabric above her skin, and pull my quilt from its shelf. I put the quilt over her, and then I strip naked and crawl into bed next to her.