ROT WITH ME

xxiii - the fool

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
( BEFORE )

Rafe tipped his head back and laughed, unintentionally presenting the column of his throat. Her blue spinel gaze eyed his bobbing Adam's apple as she smiled down at his amusement.

June lathered up the shampoo in her hands, reaching over when his laughter faded to signal him to lean back. He conformed, resting his head on the bathtub, neck curving over the edge.

As she stepped behind him for easier access, kneeling down with her soapy fingers combing through his wet hair, parting the curtain with her middle and pointer so his eyes could peek through.

He lifted his chin higher, looking up at her with his head thrown back, staring silently, the faintest of smiles playing at the corners of his lips. He made her head feel lighter. Being with him loosened the invisible noose around her neck.

***

The clattering of forks and spoons against the cheap ceramic plates heightened a hazy anxiousness within June. She never liked eating with other people, there was just something about it that made her uncomfortable.

June drilled a hole into her plate. Was it the engaging conversations in between mouthfuls of food? Or did she just have a bad appetite?

Rafe hooked his foot around her ankle. June glanced up as he shared a secret look at the dinner table with her. As if to say, they don't know I'm in love with you.

She shook away the cobwebs in her skull, feeling him reach under the table, his hand grazing her own. Before he loosely curled his pinky around hers and went back to eating with his free hand. June breathed in stark relief.

***

The skies were gray with heavy fog. As a crack of thunder grew and swallowed up the sound of giggling. Rafe lifted the covers over their heads as he brushed several kisses from her cheeks to her nose, temple, neck, lips. June clung onto the tickle of his breath on her skin.

The shape of his name on her lips. His fingers digging into her waist. Her hand at his cheek, he leaned into her touch. Between the intimate touches and exchange of quiet kisses. He whispered a phrase that tangled up in the sheets but June caught it before it could be lost.

I love you, June.

The depth in his eyes when he said it stirred something within her. In the dim lighting, in the moment the words slipped past his tongue and teeth, it was like his gaze glittered with an intensity she'd never seen before.

Quiet.

She wondered if he meant it.

Rafe drew back, noting her hesitation, and threw the sheets off them.

Quiet.

"I'm sorry," he said softly after a moment, his face in his hands.

She straightened. Wordlessly reaching toward him, turning him around by the arm and pulling him into an embrace. His faint scent of clean laundry and warmth enveloping her like a blanket.

"I love you, Rafe."

She wondered if she meant it.

***

AFTER

June lifted her suitcase off the porch. He'd packed her things himself, the scene she'd conjured up was like air had been punched from her lungs. She'd sobered up from last night, and wasn't too confident within her abilities to win him back anymore. Her drugged self had forgotten one thing, Rafe wasn't an idiot. And she wasn't a magician.