The Fishermen (Infidelity #2)

by C.P. Harris

what could a man who seemingly had everything, have in common with someone who had nothing? I had to find out.

“Things are less scary when holding hands,” I said, wiggling my fingers.

“What brings out the best in you?” I asked, earning myself a sardonic chuckle.

“When I find out, you’ll be the first to know.”

He felt trapped. I knew because caged men recognized other caged men, even if our prisons were of a different kind.

He left before getting a chance to be brave.

Franky wasn’t lacking in the darkness and stoicism department. Dark and stoic men had always been my weakness, running a close second to men who didn’t give a shit about me—because if they didn’t care, I didn’t need to worry about them wanting to stay. No one got to stay.

“You shouldn’t let anyone get away with giving you less than you’re worth,” he said.

a man as tall as me, with sun-kissed cropped hair

“Wait,” I called out against my better judgment. Leland reached back without looking, wiggling his fingers. “You’re such a child,” I said as I caught up and took his hand, because “things are less scary when holding hands.”

“Because you somehow feel different. A possible exception to my rule. And because I’m lonely,” he admitted softly, opening something in me and leaving me speechless.

I’d rather die in the meadow not knowing that something better waited for me, than to reach for the stars only to come crashing down. No one else could hurt me in my meadow. I’d made it that way. I’d made it so nothing good lived there because everything good would eventually leave.

“Me too,” he whispered back. “But maybe one day we can both be daisies.”

Warm and delicate, I added to my mental vault of his eyes. Warm and delicate means he understands me.

I would’ve made a terrible priest, because no way could I have ever handed Franky’s problems over to God. As it stood, I wanted to be the one to absolve them all.

“There’s a mattress and clean sheets in the guest bedroom. Please, stay,” he begged, and begging had never sounded so good. “Okay,” I whispered, even while knowing that this would be the moment I lived to regret. The moment I stayed.

I’d decided right then, and a newfound respect colored the lens I viewed him through. I wanted to know everything about him. All that he’d faced, survived, and even the things he hadn’t, because some things we never quite make it through. We merely learned how to walk through life while still living in our own hell. I didn’t think either of us noticed that our gazes were latched on to the other’s until something heavy hit the ceiling, snapping our connection in two. My stomach did a somersault, and there was suddenly not enough air in the tiny room for the both of us.

The sins of our parents became our problems too, because we were left to find a way to deal with them, to get past them.

“Why didn’t you ask?” I held on to the railing as the boat swayed mildly.

“I don’t know,” he said. “It’s not easy for me to ask for things.”

“Because what if I ask and the answer is no?”

“Then I would know I couldn’t ask you for anything instead of assuming I couldn’t. I’d know I couldn’t rely on anyone but myself, instead of hoping that wasn’t the truth.”

“Let me spend the rest of the summer here with you. After the mural is complete.”

“I want you here every day. If you can do whatever it is you need to and make it back here—back home—then please, stay.”

“Wasn’t the possibility of getting what you wanted worth the risk of rejection?” I asked, returning his glasses to him. Wasn’t I worth the risk?

“My favorite time of day is right before sunrise,” I said, after he’d shared that his favorite time of day was when the sun was at its highest, something I’d already figured out on my own. “Every morning I go down to the dock in my running gear, then head out before the day gets too hot.”

“I wake up early every morning to watch you drink tea on the dock as the sun breaks past the horizon,” he said. “I love how the sun looks when it rises around you, when it makes room for you.”

“See,” I whispered. “You’re a daisy after all.”

His grin was boyish and bashful as he whispered back, “So are you, Leelee Bear.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll sit right here until you wake up again. I’ll sit here all night if I have to.”

“I enjoy your company too,” I said. “You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Now sleep. That’s an order.”

“I kind of like it when you order me around.”

“I didn’t know it at the time, but I’ve wanted you since the day I laid eyes on you. That day on the roof, your fears called out to mine. You made me want to be brave before you’d ever said one word to me. That’s how much you affect me, Franky.”

“You scare me,” I admitted, closing in on him with purpose. “But I want to face you anyway, because you make me want to face everything that terrifies me. You’re married, and I… I’ve tried to care. I mean, I’ve tried to still care. But no matter how hard I try, your marriage doesn’t stop me from wishing I was in that empty space you spoke about, and it doesn’t stop me from blowing my load every fucking chance I get from just thinking about your sinful voice, or your dark moods, or the way you surprise even yourself when you laugh.”

“You’re more than complicated. You’re a stick of fucking dynamite, Franky. Capable of blowing me to pieces, but I want you anyway.”

“Truth is, the only time I’m not lost, the only time I have a clue about anything, is when I’m with you.”

Your foul moods are equivalent to a fucking earthquake, and all I can do when you’re experiencing one is hold on to something and grit my teeth until they pass. You’re a category-5 shit-storm on a good day, Franky, but on a bad day? God, on a bad day, I wanna be the thing you take it all out on. When you feel good, I feel like I can take on the world or ignore it for one more second to be with you.

“I love your darkness, Franky. And I would take being in the eye of your storm over being on the edge of it any day.

“Who else knows you, Franky?” I asked, getting the conversation back on track. “Not who knows Franklin Kincaid, but who knows you.”

“No one,” he said, shuddering from my touch. He glanced over to the photo on the coffee table. It had been there for a while now, but neither of us had mentioned it. “At least not anymore.”

“I’m sorry,” he panted, popping his mouth off my nipple. “But I need to hurt you.”

“Don’t ever fucking apologize while you’re fucking me, Franky.” My nipples burned to the third-degree, my throat was on fire, and I’d likely be bald by the time he was done with me. “Destroy me, Franky.”

“Get on your hands and knees, Leelee Bear.”

“I know you prefer one great friend over many, because it lessens your chances of people hurting you. Of them leaving you. I know you also prefer one friend over none, because being completely alone reminds you of how lonely you are. I know deep down you believe in your artistic capabilities, but you do things like spend all your money prepaying your rent, because it gives you an excuse to not pursue your secret ambitions. I know you have one-night stands because you’re afraid of what falling in love will do to you. I should be petrified of hurting you, of being the one to prove you right, but I’m selfish, and I want you, Leland. Even if it’s just for a little while.”

“And you’ve never felt those flutters again?” Leland asked.

“Not for a long time,” I admitted, staring into those gorgeous brown eyes of his as tiny waves rippled through my core. “Not until you.”

My kids needed me to be strong, my wife needed me to be strong, and Nexcom did too. Leland just needed me to be me.

Being with him felt like thriving. It felt like progress after feeling stagnant for far too long. My heart beat differently with him. It beat like I imagined it was supposed to. Wild with excitement, then steady as it filled with peace. I never wanted it to end.

“If I were a different man, I’d say you had a problem.”

“You really do have a problem,” he said, stroking my hair, staring into my eyes with an expression that should have scared me, an expression that probably would after this moment passed.