Punishment And Love Don't Mix

Love but not quite

I awake drenched in sweat, my eyes watering. Someone's wrapping their arms around my shoulders. I stare up into golden brown eyes. Jake. His arms are firmly squeezing my shoulders and he's whispering that it's alright, that I'm safe. His shaved head is drenched. He probably just got home from work. He wears a sleeveless shirt and pajama pants. His arms are shaking me, desperately trying to wake me from the dream.
"Jake I'm up," I say.
"Jesus Christ don't do that," he says, letting go of my arms. "You were screaming and thrashing, I didn't know what to do."
"Sorry," I whisper.
"It's fine," he says, leaning on and kissing me softly. His hand caresses my arm. We release but he holds my hand. Jake knows who I am. He knows what I've done and what I've been doing, but to him, it doesn't matter. I like him for that. After a few moments, he climbs under the covers with me and turns off the bedside lamp. His arms wrap around my waist and I hold His hands that meet at my stomach. He kisses the back of my neck and whispers,"I love you Timoría Amare."
I can't help myself, even though I know I can never really love, I whisper back,"I love you too, Jake Desenti," before sleep swallows me and I drift into a happy, yet dreamless dream.