Draw Me In (27 page)

I
wasn
’
t
even aware that my body was responding like this because it instinctually moved
along with his. Taking my waist between his large hands, Leo gripped onto my
hips and walked me backward toward the bed, our legs aligned as one. My knees
buckled, but I didn
’
t
fall back. Instead, Leo snaked an arm out and held my head as he slowly lowered
me down. I felt the give of the mattress, that thick, downy embrace of the
comforter and sheets enveloping me. Pure ecstasy this time. Leo lowered himself
too, and remained suspended above me, two solid arms bracketed on either side.
He slid his strong legs between mine, but his chest hovered over me.

The
space between us was electric and alive. It was heavy with the emotion we were
communicating, firing all the things we
’
d
felt but not spoken back and forth. His words and thoughts traveled through me
with each touch, each lock of our eyes, each pressing of his lips to mine.
There was language in our movements, meaning in his gaze.

There
was a vibration against the mattress, the shaking strain of his arms trying to
keep his weight from slamming down on me. He didn
’
t have to do this. In fact, I didn
’
t want him to. I lifted my hands to
him and wrapped them onto his back, embracing him, and guiding him lower.
Slowly, Leo pressed forward, his long body lining up with mine, inch by inch,
until he was fully on me. Pressed against me. Instead of on his hands like
earlier, he now balanced on his elbows, his forearms flat against the mattress
on either side of my head, his fingers twisting into my hair. Our foreheads
touched, the tips of our noses brushed.

In
any other time in my life I would have wanted more. I would have hastily shed
all of the layers of fabric between us and taken things so quickly it would
have been a hurried blur of hormones and lust-filled need. But I didn
’
t want to blur this moment. I wanted
it to last forever. I wanted this slow, thoughtful union between us, because it
wasn
’
t
a union of our bodies, but of our selves. I
’
d never been joined to someone in
this way before. I didn
’
t
know it could feel like this. I didn
’
t
know this feeling even existed.

But
that
’
s
because I didn
’
t
know Leo existed.

“
You
’
re perfect,
”
I breathed, not sure if I said it,
or if it was just a thought.

But
I must have uttered it, because Leo snapped.

Maybe
I
’
d told him one too many times, but he
quickly rose back up to sit, his body rigid and upright, pulled taut like a
wire. For a labored pause, he just stared over his shoulder toward the wall. I
could hear his breathing, could see the rise and fall of his chest feathering
out into his shoulders, a whole body shudder. Then, just as suddenly as he
’
d pulled away, he twisted at the
waist so his back was completely to me, too.

“
Give me your hand.
”

I
couldn
’
t
understand what he was doing, but I obeyed and held it out for him to take.

His
face was downcast. I was unable to read his expression, nor see his eyes, as he
took my hand and placed it onto his back, right between his shoulder blades.
There was something he wanted me to know, something he hoped to convey, but I
couldn
’
t
figure it out.

But
I did as I was instructed.

And
then I found it.

Close
to the curve of his spine. At first it felt like a shallow dip, small in size,
but enough of a ridge that I could sense it under the tip of my finger. There
was a raised line of flesh around it, almost puckering the skin, a line maybe
an inch in length.

“
Everyday I
’
ve survived, I
’
ve won.
”

Oh
my God.

I
hadn
’
t
expected that.

“
Do you have cancer?
”
I felt like an idiot for asking, but
I couldn
’
t
possibly think of what else this could mean. It wasn
’
t like he was just sharing some
meaningless scar with me
—
one
that he
’
d
gotten from chickenpox or a fall from a skateboard as a child. The moment was
too intense for that, the scar too emotionally deep.

“
Not now, no.
”

Leo
turned around.

“
But you did.
”

He
nodded.
“
Yes.
”

“
When?
”

My
fingers weren
’
t
on his back anymore, but instead woven through his. Our hands rested on his
thigh and the fabric of his jeans itched the skin on the back of my hand. I
squeezed his fingers tightly, so tight my heartbeat pulsed through them. Half
of me was here, the other was somewhere else. I couldn
’
t focus on his words and needed to
grip onto him to stay in the present.

“
When she did.
”
He smiled. He shouldn
’
t smile. He should be sad. I was
overwhelmingly sad and couldn
’
t
think about attempting a smile.
“
And
then again when I was twenty.
”

“
I
’
m so sorry.
”
Was I crying? I shoved the heel of
my hand to my eyes and pushed back any rogue tears that threatened to break through.

“
You say it like you had something to
do with it, Julie.
”

I
instantly recognized those words. The same ones he
’
d uttered back in the dressing room
the day I threw iced coffee all over him. The same ones he
’
d said when I told him I was sorry to
hear his mother had died.

“
I
’
m saying I
’
m sorry because I
didn
’
t
have anything to do with it.
”
I held his hand like I was hanging on to something for dear life. I was. I was
hanging on to Leo.
“
Because
I wish I could have been there for you, somehow.
”

“
You don
’
t know what that means, though.
”
Leo lifted his hand to my cheek. It
was that moment where his expression held an infinity of words
—
something you could
never articulate
—
but
something so intense it passed through the barriers of space and time. That glare
gripped his eyes, squeezing them with a look that stuttered my heart. He was
cracking. Shards of his former self, displayed for me to gather into my
possession.
“
Sometimes
being the caretaker is harder than being the sick one.
”

My
mind flashed back to the night in the ER with Ian and Joshua and that look of
sheer panic that draped across Ian
’
s
face. I understood that reality, even though on an obviously smaller scale. It
was terrifying to be the caretaker, the one aware and lucid and responsible for
another human being
’
s
health.

And
to be fifteen.

And
to take care of your dying mother.

And
then to be left with no one to care for you.

I
felt the crack in my own chest, my heart splitting in two.

Honestly,
maybe he was trying to show me some imperfection here, but I couldn
’
t see it. Those scars I felt? Those
weren
’
t
imperfections or impurities. They were chips in the stone of his exterior, but
they didn
’
t
make him any less whole in my eyes. They only added to who he was, and they
allowed me to see deeper into him than just that seemingly perfect
façade
everyone else saw.

They
made him human. They made him mine.

“
You said I
’
m hard to get to know.
”
Leo
’
s aqua eyes met my eyes. I know it
belonged in a cheesy 80
’
s
love song, but I swear I could see forever when I looked into them. Maybe not
forever. Maybe the past. I could see the history that molded him into the man
he now was at this very moment in time
—
the
man laid bare before me.
“
I
find most people don
’
t
want to know the hard stuff. It
’
s
too much.
”

I
suddenly understood.
“
It
was too much for her.
”

He
was sick as a teenager. And he was sick again at twenty, when she had cheated.

“
I don
’
t blame her for it, Julie. It
’
s a lot to take on. The treatments
and the tests and the results and the diagnosis. It
’
s hard to live life when you
’
re waiting on someone to be healthy
enough to live it with you. I would never ask someone to wait for me.
”

“
You waited for your mother.
”

His
shoulders slumped. It was cold in here. I pulled the edge of the comforter up
and lifted it so it draped over my shoulders like a shawl. Leo helped adjust
the fabric over me.
“
Of
course I did. She was my mom.
”

“
But
she
was your fianc
é
e,
”
I reasoned, but it didn
’
t sound like a good enough one.
“
When she came crawling back... you
were healthy then, weren
’
t
you?
”

“
Yes, and I
’
ve been healthy ever since.
”
Leo expelled a breath that was
enough to lift the hair from my forehead.
“
I
’
m sorry, Julie. This is a lot. I feel
like we should get drunk or something just to take the edge off.
”

Though
I wasn
’
t
opposed to popping open a bottle, it wasn
’
t
too much for me. It was just enough.
“
I
’
d rather talk about this than
meerkats and lemmings, Leo.
”
There came those confused crow
’
s
feet again.
“
I
said I wanted to get to know you. This is a big part.
”

“
Well, if you look at the actual
scars, it
’
s
a very small part. At least on the surface.
”

I
hadn
’
t
looked at them, but I
’
d
felt them, and that was enough to clue me in on what a big deal this really
was, even though he was trying to dismiss it. Cancer was a big word. One that
once uttered within the confines of a doctor
’
s office would change your life
forever. It wasn
’
t
a word you could ever get away from, but one that instead tied itself to you
like it legally became part of your name. It was more than a diagnosis. It
branded you both physically and emotionally.

“
What stage was it?
”

“
Stage one the first time. Stage three
the second.
”

I
had no idea what that meant. My expression must have given that away because he
added,
“
The
second time it spread to a lymph node.
”
He raised his arm up and pointed just under his shoulder, near his armpit.
“
Only one, right here. They took it
out.
”

“
And your mom? Was it the same kind?
”