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Rune Alignment

Chapter 30

They lay on damp sheets, clammy bodies entwined. Bobby felt a shiver run through Gleason. "Here, cover up," he said softly as he reached for the coverlet and pulled it over them. He slid his hand over her forehead and along the side of her face, pushing her hair off her face. "You ok?"

Gleason nodded and said, almost child-like, "Can I have a drink? I'm thirsty."

"Of course. What do you want? A glass of wine, water?"

"Just water."

"I'll be right back." He leaned over and softly kissed her forehead. He rolled off the bed, picked up the pile of clothes on the floor and tossed them onto the chair with the others, reached for the door and stepped into the hall, naked.

Gleason lay there, staring at the ceiling. Her mind was blank as blank as the ceiling. It was so good not to think. She heard the toilet flush and then water running. He's cleaning up, I should, too. She was so wet down there. Then it occurred to her, we didn't use a condom. He's ok; he's the first one without one. From her first time, every time, till tonight, she'd used a condom. She sat up and pulled the coverlet to her chin, over her shoulders, still shivering.

Bobby returned carrying two bottles of water, a towel around his waist. "You still cold?" he asked as he handed her an opened bottle. She nodded, took the bottle and drank heartily. He set his bottle on the bedside table and went to his dresser, pulled open a drawer and dug through it. "Here, put this on," he said as he turned, offering an enormous sweatshirt. She traded him the water bottle for the shirt, opened it and pulled it on, pushing the bottom edge down and the sleeves up. "Better?" he asked, setting her bottle on the table beside his. She nodded and began pulling hairpins from the wreck that surrounded her head.

He sat, right leg bent on the bed, left leg off. He watched her do this simple act of grooming, such a womanly thing. She bent her head and sought pins, pulling and holding them. When she found them all, she carefully laid the bunch on the coverlet, and raked her fingers through the red mass. He was amazed at how much hair she had. It was long, nearly to her waist, it hung over her breasts. It was crazy curly.

Bobby had never touched a woman's hair before, not like this. He reached for it, wanting to feel it. She saw him watching her, reaching for her hair. He slipped his hand under the red cascade and ran his hand down its length. It was so soft, unlike anything he'd ever touched. She watched his face; he was fascinated, like a boy touching something wonderful.

Gleason suddenly felt such a swelling in her chest; it burned, it filled her, and it took her breath away. I love this man. She'd never, ever said such a thing to anyone, no one, not even to herself. She had never said that word aloud, never even thought it. This is what love is. This is what it feels like. The swelling in her chest grew, her eyes filled. Bobby's eyes moved from her hair to her face, he saw the tears and immediately took her by the arms.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" he was frightened.

She moved to him and clutched her arms around him. He held her. "Nothing. Nothing is wrong. It's all good." She hitched a sob.

The car stopped and the driver opened the back door. Sledge stepped out and Eames followed, taking his hand.

"Good night sir, ma'am."

"Thank you," Edward told the man.

The driver nodded to each, returned to the car and drove off.

"Give me your keys," Edward said. Alex got them and handed them over.

Together, without a word, they entered her apartment and Edward shut and locked her door.

Bobby held her, rocked her, was lost in her hair, "Are sure you're all right? I didn't hurt you, did I?" He breathed in her fragrance – God, that scent!

Gleason hitched another sob, and pulled away. He released her, held her arms, and searched her face. "Why are you crying? Tell me," he said softly.

She searched his face as well. Tell him, tell him what you feel. Say it. Just say it. "I . . . I . . . I . . . am just happy. I'm happy, Bobby. You are good, a good man. I. . ." she couldn't say it. Still couldn't say it. "I have to go to the bathroom."

Bobby looked at her. She's not telling me something. She's hiding something. He let go of her arms, pulled her head to him and kissed her softly. Gleason scuttled off her side of the bed, walked around the foot, pulling his sweatshirt down around her bottom and walked into the hall. Bobby sat for a minute, thinking, wondering; he picked up the hairpins that had scattered when they embraced, still wondering. Then he got up, laid the collection of pins on the dresser and stripped the coverlet and sheets from the bed. He threw them onto the mound on the chair and went to the closet for a clean set.

Gleason finished, wiped herself, flushed and looked around for a washcloth. She found a stack in a narrow linen closet, took one. She turned on the faucet and let the water run to warm. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a train wreck; she looked like a Scottish banshee. Gleason combed her hair with both hands and pulled it back into a knot, twisting it into itself. She ran the washcloth under the stream of warm water, rung it out and cleaned herself. She repeated the task, rinsed the washcloth well, wringing it nearly dry and turned off the water. She folded the cloth and hung it on the towel bar.

Bobby was smoothing the coverlet over a clean top sheet when she returned to the bedroom. He stood, turned to her and said, "The other sheets were wet. I changed them." She smiled. He reached for her and guided her into the bed. He undid the towel around his waist, tossed it onto the heap on the chair and climbed in beside her.

They wound themselves into their position. "What time is it?" Gleason asked. Bobby turned away, glanced over his shoulder, turned back and said, "Ten after two."

"We should go to sleep," she said with a yawn.

Bobby nuzzled the back of her neck and murmured, "I love you."

He felt her tense up. What? What did I just say! Jesus Christ! Where did that come from? It just came out. I said it without thinking. His mind raced and then . . . because it's true, I do. I do love her. I do. I've known it since that first day. I do love her. He felt a golden glow inside, a warm golden glow. I do love her.

Gleason's eyes flew open and she tensed up. What did he say? No, no, no, no. He didn't. No, I misunderstood. He mumbled something, but not that. No, no, he did not say that. No . . . no.

Neither said anything. He felt Gleason slowly relax. He snuggled closer, breathed in cinnamon, and they slept.