Page 330 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

I know I shouldn’t,

but I can’t stop tracing his details,

down the length of his neck,

across his collarbone,

shaken by the heartbeat-close intimacy

of my skin touching his.

His heat in his eyes falls heavy as I do it,

but I avoid it and pull away,

reaching for his new shirt.

I slide it on him,

dressing him,

wrapping him in wool so expensive

I hope it turns to armor.

‘Cause if I dress him in my world

maybe the cruelty of it won’t touch him.

Maybe Raymond won’t be able to touch him.

I bring the small box between us.

He watches as I unspool the ribbon and lift the top. Inside are cufflinks, black onyx set in gold.

The face is a miniature record with etched grooves that catch the starlight roof of the cabin, making the gold look like spinning vinyl. At the center is a sunburst for Sonny—a way to mark what’s mine—engraved with his initials so he has no choice but to accept them.

Everything he hides

fractures in his eyes.

“It’s too much—” he starts to say,

then pauses,

breaking on a breath.

“It’s all too much.”

The usual Jersey-tough act strips away,

leaving a haunting mix of terror,

like this is a debt he can’t repay,

and he doesn’t know how to carry it.

Hearing him say that,