Secret Light (11 page)

without thinking, Ben laid the backs of his fingers against Rafe’s skin, testing the

temperature to be found there.

Rafe’s eyes fluttered open—wholly unguarded in that second—only to fill with

shock and fear. Rafe drew his bedding up with his good hand like he was some comedy

film ingénue. “Wh-what?”

“It’s me; it’s Ben.” Ben drew his hand back stupidly. “You looked flushed. I’m sorry

I woke you. That was stupid.”

“No. I was just”—Rafe drew a shaking hand up to his hair to smooth it—

“surprised.”

Ben took a major chance and sat down on the edge of the bed. “I stopped by to see

how you’re doing.”

Rafe glanced at the door. “Ed?”

“He left for a bit to sleep in his own bed. He’ll be back in the morning. You’re lucky

to have a neighbor like him. He’s a good guy.”

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“God forgive me, I used to plan my grocery shopping while listening to him talk.

He’s lonely since his wife died.”

Ben tried not to laugh. “He seems to have a lot to say.”

“But now I feel as though I should have paid more attention. He’s
kind
. There are

few enough kind people in the world. Sometimes I don’t take the time to notice.”

“Me neither.”

“It makes me ashamed.”

Ben guessed painkillers had loosened Rafe’s tongue. After his initial scare, he

seemed fairly unguarded. Perhaps it was simply the anonymity of darkness. The safety

of a quiet room.

Rafe stirred. “What will your partner say when he knows you’re here?”

“He’ll be obnoxious. You know what? He says these god-awful things all the time.

My last partner was a tough old bird. Good sense of humor. He retired. He gets to

spend more time with the grandkids now. I’ve been riding with Calhoun for a little over

two months, and it’s like every day it gets more tense.”

“So you met him in the boxing ring?”

“We don’t have to like each other, but I expect his respect. Sometimes all a guy like

that understands is power. I want him to know I can take care of myself.”

Rafe shifted again. Pain passed over his face. Ben grasped Rafe’s good hand and

slipped an arm around his shoulders, lifting him to a more comfortable position.

“Can I get you anything?”

Rafe shook his head. “No. Thank you.”

Ben started to get up, but Rafe didn’t let go. Rafe seemed to study their clasped

hands, and then finally, he glanced up.

Ben swallowed hard. Maybe it was the painkiller making Rafe reach out in that

tentative, hesitant way, but Ben knew he’d be a fool not to give Rafe whatever he

needed. He brushed the silken strands of Rafe’s blond hair back off his forehead and left

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his hand there to cup the side of Rafe’s face, skimming his thumb along the taper of his

cheekbone.

“So handsome.”

Rafe demurred by closing his eyes and turning toward Ben’s hand.

Ben leaned in to him so he couldn’t ignore the compliment. “You are.”

“Maybe,” Rafe muttered. Ben felt Rafe’s hot breath against his palm and his whole

body tightened.

“Rafe? I swear I didn’t contrive to be alone with you like this. I believed Ed would

be here, acting in some way as a kind of…”

“Chaperone? I understand.” Rafe smiled up at him lazily. “I don’t see you as a

despoiler of maidens.”

That made Ben smile. “I don’t see you as a maiden. Anyway, I just wanted you to

know… It’s not my intention to push you into—”

“Touch me.” Rafe brought their clasped hands to his lips and kissed Ben’s knuckles.

His kiss was tender, his face filled with some emotion Ben didn’t understand. “Christ,

Ben, I swear if you don’t put your hands on me, I think I’ll die.”

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Chapter Nine

“What? No—”

“If you only knew how long it’s been since I’ve felt like this.” Rafe’s heart

thundered. He gripped Ben’s hand, intent on getting as much of the life-affirming touch

as he could.

“I—” Ben pulled back. “Stop. You’re all doped up.”

“What of it?”

“If I’m going to touch you, I want you willing. I want you participating.”

“I am willing. I only need to know what to do.” How
frustrating
. Finally Rafe was

willing and opportunity presented itself, but Ben apparently had scruples.

Ben disengaged his hand gently but firmly. “Not like this. Not because you’re sky

high and I’m available.”

Rafe exhaled. He was a millisecond away from begging. “It seems I’ve embarrassed

myself.”

“Of course you haven’t. I just couldn’t stand it if you had regrets.” Ben clasped his

hands together. “I don’t want a man who has to get drunk or take a pill to be with me.”

Absurdly, tears clouded Rafe’s vision. He rubbed them away with the heel of his

good hand. “You don’t understand.”

“Then make me understand. Tell me who you are. Tell me what you want from me,

because the last time we talked, it sure the hell wasn’t a hopped-up roll in the hay.”

“No. It surely wasn’t.” Rafe’s head fell back onto the pillow. “Do you have any idea

how exciting—how unbelievable—the idea of being with you is to me?”

Ben rested his elbows on his knees and shrugged. “No.”

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“I’m nearly thirty-two years old.”

“And?”

“I’ve spent those years desperately afraid.”

“Of what, exactly?”

“Oh Christ, Ben.” Rafe huffed a defeated laugh. “I’m afraid of
everything
. Of what I

am. Of what will happen to me if anyone finds out.”

“You don’t have to be brave. I’m not. I hide from my coworkers, and I can’t go out

with a man. If I go out looking for someone to be with, I’m subject to men like my

partner Calhoun, who would happily pull me in on charges. A homosexual cop has no

life expectancy in jail at all.”

“So how do you go about being with someone? I’ve seen men who are unafraid.

Men who exhibit their preferences blatantly. I—”

“I don’t.” A muscle tightened in Ben’s jaw. “I’d be a fool to let anyone see me like

that. I took a chance with you because—”

“Why? When you could end up like…?” Rafe didn’t say
Walter Hart
, but he didn’t

have to. He knew they were both thinking of him.

“I wanted this.” Ben didn’t look up. “Whatever happens, I wanted
you
badly

enough to take that chance.”

“So then you turned me down.” Rafe probably wouldn’t have laughed if he’d been

completely sober.

Ben turned. “Not you. Just the circumstances. Can I—” he bit his lip. “Do you think

I could get into bed with you? Maybe I could just hold you for a while.”

Rafe’s pulse quickened. This was comfort. His if he wanted it. His if he didn’t even

know how to ask for it. Ben’s strong arms, waiting to wrap around him when he felt so

lost and battered. So confused about himself.

“Christ, Ben, yes.
Please
.”

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“Let me”—Ben got up and pulled his casual shirt over his head without undoing

the buttons—“get these off.”

Rafe drew in a breath when he caught sight of a strip of tanned skin before Ben had

a chance to pull his undershirt down. It looked golden and firm. An arrow of hair

disappeared beneath the waistband of his trousers. Ben kicked off his shoes and

removed his pants next—taking the time to fold and stack everything neatly on the

trunk at the foot of Rafe’s iron bed.

Clad like any ordinary man in shorts and an undershirt—socks still on his feet—

Ben went around the bed to Rafe’s uninjured side. He put Mooki’s basket on the floor as

carefully—like she was a priceless Ming-dynasty vase, arranging the blankets around

her just so.

Rafe lifted his blankets to invite Ben in.

“Nice pajamas,” Ben teased gently as he slid into bed. The springs squeaked to

protest his weight.

“I get cold.” Ben legs entwined with his, and the sensation was stunning. Muscles

bunched. Arms enfolded him. Breath and skin and hair brushed past the exposed skin

of his neck. A flush of arousal hit his nerve endings like sparks and drove warmth into

the deepest parts of him.

“I’ve been told my body is like a furnace. I guess that’s because I’ve built up my

muscles lifting weights and boxing.”

Rafe melted beneath the rumble of words. Deep voice.
Big man
. Pleasure so

astonishing he could barely contain the howl of utter joy that burst through him and,

absurdly, caused his tears to flow.

Before Rafe could stop his outburst, before he could even begin to catch the edge of

his emotions and haul them all back in, he was gasping, sobbing, racked with

shuddering, wrenching grief.

Pain came from someplace buried so far inside him that to experience it was a

perfect storm of agony.

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Rafe grieved for his parents. Their loss was as fresh as if it had occurred moments

before. The pain of every transition, every lie he’d ever had to tell, came back to him

along with every missed opportunity, every last, single mistake he’d ever made and

every hurt he’d caused. Without the handhold of rigid discipline, he disappeared down

a deep well of profound regret for every minute of every day he’d spent alive, knowing

everyone he’d ever loved was dead.

Ironically, it had only taken the one thing he’d never truly experienced—

happiness
—to unlock years and years of despair.

Ben held him. He murmured comfort and nonsense into Rafe’s skin, all the while

cradling him like he was precious. He surrounded Rafe with flesh and bone and sweet

words, pulling him into his body so tightly Rafe let it all out, unafraid of falling to

pieces, unafraid of losing himself in the process.

In the end, Rafe was left gasping—but intact.

“Sorry.” He ran a shaking hand over his hair. “What you must think of me.”

“That was…unexpected.”

Ben lay at Rafe’s side, their bodies still intertwined. He was totally still. He seemed

uncertain whether Rafe’s storm had passed. Maybe he was worried Rafe would erupt

into fresh histrionics.

Rafe wanted to die.

Pressing his face into the pillow to hide his shame was out, given that he couldn’t

roll over onto his broken arm. Rafe had to lie there silently, cursing the fate that made

Ben the man who gave him the strength to face his fears and then had the misfortune to

witness how utterly weak they made him.

“Sorry,” Rafe whispered.

“It’s all right.” Was Ben trying to convince himself?

“I don’t normally—”

“I’ve pushed you too far, too fast. That’s all.” Ben spoke quietly. “I didn’t realize—”

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“It’s not that.”

“Hear me out, though. For some men, it’s impossible to face this. If that’s the case

here… If this is going to make you feel so low…”

“Ben, if you believe nothing else, believe that my outburst—whatever it was—is

because I’ve been so
lonely
. My God, I never realized how painful it is to live without

human touch until I met you.”

“That human touch doesn’t have to be mine, Rafe. This doesn’t have to go

anywhere you don’t want it to.”

Rafe rubbed his cheek along Ben’s shoulder, where his head lay pillowed on that

muscular arm. Every breath he took brought Ben’s scent to him, strong but clean, as if

he’d showered recently. A man’s scent on a man’s skin. Heady and delicious—

comforting in a way Rafe knew eclipsed anything he’d ever smelled on a woman.

There had never been any doubt—in the secret part of his heart where he’d locked

away what he’d desired in favor of what he could reasonably expect to have—that he

was a lover of men.

As a child, he got an indefinable guilty thrill spying on his father’s friends when

they didn’t realize he was looking. Watching older boys running or playing sports, he’d

always known the sight of men stirred him.

He’d loathed his body’s betrayal when even the hated German soldiers heated his

blood. But Ben… Ben wore his uniform like a young god. Ben was kind and good. He

took his mother to church and looked after the citizens of Los Angeles like a shepherd

looks after his sheep.

Ben had rocked him back on his heels like the concussion from a bomb blast.

“There’s no doubt you were right about me and what I want,” Rafe admitted into

the silence and the anonymous darkness of the night.

“And that makes you so unhappy?”

Rafe shook his head. “No.”

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“Then what?” Linens whispered as Ben turned his head.

“For a moment, I was so happy, I couldn’t bear it.”

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Chapter Ten

December 13, 1955

Tendrils of dawn light stretched into Rafe’s room, giving Ben his first opportunity