Page 66 of The Clinch
I can still feel his hands on my feet.
The way my body reacted.
The way I ran.
Last night I stood outside his bedroom door at two a.m., hand on the knob, breathing hard. I finally forced myself to turn away.
The line behind me nudges forward. I make my legs move. When I step onto the ramp to grab my bag, Leo is already holding it, his duffel slung over one shoulder, my tote hooked in his hand.
Then his other palm finds mine and locks in. He holds my hand like it’s normal. Like it’s earned. It terrifies me more than being grabbed ever did, but I let it happen.
“I’m okay to carry my stuff, big boy,” I say, even as my grip tightens on his.
His head turns, gaze dropping to my mouth. He looks away before I can decide what to do with that.
“Take the help, Flash.” His voice is a shade lower than it was a second ago.
“Leo.”
“Let a man be useful.”
I huff but fall into step beside him as we hit the boardwalk. The sun is bright enough to feel personal. The air smells of salt and sunscreen, kids laughing at the playground beside the dock, waves smacking the shore in rhythm.
Leo drops half a pace until we’re aligned, shoulder close without crowding.
“Thanks for coming. I know it wasn’t easy getting time off.”
I glance at him. He doesn’t mention the couch. The questions. The way he looked at me like he already knew the answer.
And I don’t either.
“It’s fine,” I mutter. “I had vacation days to burn. And it’s Fire Island. Not exactly an imposition.”
“You’ll have some time off before your classes start?”
“About a week before orientation.” I adjust my sunglasses. “I’m planning to go see my parents.”
The words leave my mouth before I’ve decided to say them.
“Where are your parents?”
I hesitate.
“Germany,” I say quickly. “Ulm.”
He raises an eyebrow. His hand tightens around mine just enough to register. “Tell me the dates.”
I blink. “What?”
He looks at me calmly. “When you go, I’m coming with you. We’ll make it work.”
I stop walking.
“You can’t.”
“I can.”
“You have camp.”
