Chapter Twenty-Seven

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Cyrus

Iheld Crow as the tears flowed. I had no idea what happened. Usually I was such a heavy sleeper that it was difficult to wake me, but that hadn’t been the case this time. I’d heard him, my instincts immediately on alert, the heaviness in my gut telling me something was wrong. I still didn’t know what, but in that moment it didn’t matter. The only thing that did matter was Crow.

Crow, who gripped me like he was afraid if he let go, I would disappear. Crow, whose rough beard rubbed against my skin and whose fingers dug into my muscles while I stroked his head and tried to make sure he knew I would always be there. That no matter what it was, we would get through it together and he would never spend time on this mountain alone again if he didn’t want to.

Eventually, he calmed down, his hot tears landing on my skin slower and slower until they dried up again. Still, he didn’t let me go. There was fear in his hold…and sadness, but there was also love. How, I wanted to ask him. How can you love someone as broken as me? But then maybe that was why he could—we’d both been dropped time and time again, cracks in our armor, little pieces of us breaking off, but somehow, together, we filled in each other’s imperfections. All my cracks and chips were sealed in by Crow, and his by me.

We stayed in the water as long as we could. When it was getting too chilled, I brushed my mouth close to his ear and said, “Let me take you to bed, baby.”

He nodded. I knew Crow well enough by now to know he wouldn’t be giving me any words tonight, or if he did, they would be few. He stood first, then held his hand out for me. Even in situations like this, when he was hurting, Crow still tried to take care of me, still did his best to cling to whatever control he could, and I felt release in allowing him to have it. The way he took care of me stripped away years of loneliness, of feeling unloved, of being scared and not knowing what to do, of being thrown away. It was just another way we fit together so perfectly, but at the same time, I still longed to be able to give that to Crow sometimes too. To be the place where he knew he could break down and I would be the legs to hold him up.

So I let Crow help me stand, we got out, and I took the towel from him and began drying him off. He gave me that confused, squinty-eyed, wrinkled-forehead look, his hair more scraggly than usual and half wet. I smiled at him. “I want to do this for you. I want to give this to you. You’ll never have to face anything alone again.”

The look in his eyes changed, softened, yet seemed hungry too, before he gave me a small nod.

Crow gave himself to me, allowed me to dry him. I started at his front, his chest, stomach, then knelt as I dried his thighs and lower legs, one, then the other. “Turn around for me.”

He did as I said, and this time I worked my way up to his muscular thighs and firm, slightly furry ass, then his back and shoulders, and finally his hair.

Leaning in, I pressed my lips to his shoulder, wrapped my arms around his waist. “You say I’m yours, but you’re mine too, Crow. We belong to each other.” With one more gentle kiss to his back, I wiped any remaining water, then dried myself.

He let me take his hand and lead him to the bed. We climbed in, and I lay on top of him. “Is this okay?” I traced circles in the hair on his chest with my finger. Crow nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?”

He turned his head to the side, the pain in his eyes palpable, squeezing and tightening my chest.

“It’s okay.” I went to slide down his body, but Crow stopped me, holding my face in his hands and bringing our mouths together. He pushed his tongue between my lips, taking from me what he needed, giving me what he couldn’t with words.

Our tongues moved together, slow and languid and like we could make this moment last forever, live right here, just feeding from each other’s mouths. The kiss told me I’m sorry even though he didn’t need to say that to me. I want to give you something, which I appreciated even though I didn’t need it either. I knew Crow’s heart, and that was what mattered.

When the kiss ended, I started to work my way down his body, my lips following a trail down his torso. Now that I could do things like this with him, I wanted to do them all the time. Settling between his legs, I took his soft cock into my mouth, suckling it. Even flaccid, Crow was something to marvel at. I loved doing this for him, loved the feel of him against my tongue, being a place for his cock to rest, because every part of Crow deserved to be worshipped. It was a deeper way to connect, a way to both give and take what each of us needed, and luckily for us, the things we craved merged together, met perfectly in the middle.

Crow massaged my scalp while I warmed his cock, until eventually, he fell into much-needed sleep.

*

I woke upbefore Crow, which rarely happened. I’d fallen asleep with my head on his hip and his fingers in my hair.

Frowning, I sat up, shaking his shoulder gently. “Crow?”

His eyes jerked open, Crow moving so quickly, I wasn’t sure what happened before he’d shot up, flipped me, and lay on top of me, holding me down with wild eyes.

“Baby?” I said, and that seemed to snap him out of whatever trance he was in. His gaze turned horrified, wide-eyed in a different way as he scrambled off me, back pressed against the headboard, as if trying to get as far away from me as possible. “Hey, it’s okay. I just startled you. You weren’t going to hurt me, Crow. I’m not afraid of you.” Still, my heart banged against my chest as if trying to break through.

Crow cocked his head, seeming more like the man I’d met months ago than the one I’d grown to know. He always had those moments of quiet when he pulled away, reminding me that he’d been completely alone for ten years and grew up in a way I would never understand, and that he belonged to this mountain more than anything else. But I hadn’t seen him so…confused? Skittish? Unsure? Not for a while.

“Baby?” Air struggled to pull through my lungs, feeling like someone was stacking weight on them, more and more and more with each second slowly ticking by, until…

“Little lamb…”

“Yes. God yes.” My eyes teared up, wetness pooling in them. I didn’t know what I thought was going to happen. That he’d forgotten me? That he would send me away? The latter was always a fear for me, and that would probably never change. I wasn’t sure my mental illness would allow it to. No matter how much I trusted Crow, that fear of abandonment always sneaked in.

“Don’t cry.” He cupped my cheek, brushed his thumb beneath my eye, swiping at the wetness. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m just emotional.” I snuggled into his hand, savoring Crow’s hot skin against mine. God, I could bask in the warmth of him and never ever tire of it.

He gave me a small, sad smile, like his lips were testing out the movement again and he wasn’t sure he could allow it. When he pulled away, I missed the contact instantly. Crow wobbled when he stood, reaching out to catch his balance.

“Hey, what is it? What’s wrong?” I clambered out of bed and wrapped my arm around him. His skin practically sizzled to the touch. I wasn’t sure how I hadn’t noticed that he wasn’t normal hot. He was blazing. “Jesus. You’re burning up.”

I tugged him down, pressed my lips to his forehead. I had no idea if that really worked or why people chose the lips. I just knew my mom used to do it to me when I was younger.

“You definitely have a fever. Let’s get you back into bed.”

Crow shook his head. I was about to argue when he said, “Piss.”

“Okay, let me help you.”

I was surprised he allowed me to keep my arm around him as we made our way into the bathroom. Crow had always seemed invincible, like there was nothing he couldn’t do and he didn’t need anyone, but both last night and this morning I was seeing a different side of him.

He sat on the toilet rather than standing to pee, hand between his legs and holding his dick to aim. Once he finished, he let me help him back to bed. He immediately pulled the blankets over himself, body trembling, but he didn’t complain. That wasn’t Crow. He would never complain.

“I know you’re cold, but we need to get your fever down. Where’s the thermometer? Oh, and Tylenol or Advil?”

He shook his head. “No. Pills.”

Fear climbed up my throat, coming out in, “Crow, we have to get your fever down! You have to take something.” I knew he had issues with medication, that he didn’t go to doctors, but I hadn’t considered what happened when he got sick.

“No! Sleep.”

“Do you at least have a thermometer?”

He nodded, pointing to the bathroom. I went and looked in the cabinets and found one. What happened if he just got a headache? When he got a cold? What if Crow got really sick?

I went back to him. He had his eyes closed, blanket tight around himself.

“Baby, open your mouth. I need to take your temperature.”

He didn’t answer, worry now making my hand shake. “Crow, open your mouth. Please. I need you to do that for me.”

Those words seemed to work. I slipped the thermometer under his tongue, and he closed it again. When it beeped, it immediately flashed red, and I saw it was one hundred and three.

Shit…shit. What did I do?

“I’ll be right back,” I told him, hurrying from the room. It wasn’t as if Crow was going to respond anyway.

I got ice packs from the fridge, cold water, and a cup of ice. So they wouldn’t be too much of a shock to his system, I wrapped the packs in towels and said, “I’m going to put these on you to try and lower your temperature. Can you suck on this ice for me?”

Crow didn’t answer, didn’t move.

I pressed the cold compresses to his body, then lay in bed beside him.

Please be okay.

Don’t let me fuck this up.

I need you.

I love you.