Copper Script

by K.J. Charles

Aaron was perhaps a little over-sensitive on the subject of his family; skin tended to be thin where it had been previously rubbed raw.

“Supporting our wounded heroes is one of many things that people feel passionately must be done, by somebody else.”

WELL, THIS WAS EMBARRASSING. Joel had a tendency to be overwhelmed by his feelings. He knew it, hated it, and resented that he never seemed to get better at noticing he was doing it in the moment. He overreacted, and said stupid things, or humiliated himself with tears, and then had to pick up the pieces. He’d spoiled more than one promising love affair in the past with an explosion of feelings he could have kept to himself.

“You’ve no idea what you’re getting into.” “Bloody right I don’t. You’re the policeman, you solve the crime. I’m here for moral support, handwriting analysis, and the occasional Frenching to keep your pecker up.”

So yes, let’s have meals and evenings, and also nights and breakfasts and everything else. Because I’m sodding sick of losing things, and I’m not losing you if I can help it.”

“That I love you,” he said. “I love you, I want us to live, and from now on, if you find yourself living with anything, I want it to be me.”