Page 87 of Should the Sky Fall

“He rented a place. He doesn’t want to go all in if there’s a chance your memories might come back.”

“I’m not sure I should go back to the job, anyway. If what you said about me hating it is true, then it wouldn’t be a wise choice.”

Rendered speechless once again, Dawson says diplomatically, “You might feel differently if you remember. You dedicated most of your life to it after all.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good thing,” Cal says with a frown. “We’re married, but I never made time for you. All the pictures we have are from some social event that means nothing to me.”

There they go again with the pictures. “It really bothers you, doesn’t it? That we don’t have pictures.”

“It’s…confusing.” Cal gives a frustrated sigh. “I have all these…emotions swirling inside me and no point of reference for them. Aside from you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know who I am, Dawson,” he points out the obvious. “Maybe it’s not such a bad thing, because honestly? After all you’ve told me? I sound like an ass.” His expression becomes pinched. “But even though I don’t know who I am, I know my feelings for you.”

“Your feelings for me?” Dawson repeats dumbly, blushing at how squeaky his voice has become.

Cal nods, looking Dawson in the eye. “I can feel it. How much you mean to me. And it’s just so wrong that I don’t have anything to show for it. Nothing at all. I even went through our text messages. There’s only one from you, apologizing for not being able to make it home on time. That’s it.”

The world around him sways for a second. The text. Cal read the text. The one that Dawson sent on Olivia’s birthday when the migraine hit. The one he knew he would regret later. The one that made Cal mad and…

Dawson clenches his eyes shut, shaking his head as if that could erase what happened.

“Dawson? What’s wrong?”

He takes a deep breath, opening his eyes slowly. He’s afraid to look at Cal, unsure how he’ll react when he sees his face after he was just thrown into that particular memory. When he finally opens them, it’s slow and cautious, and he holds his breath the whole time.

Despite his fear, his flight or fight instinct stays dormant. It doesn’t awaken even when he notices how close Cal is, concern etched into his features. And yet, Dawson doesn’t feel an overwhelming need to move, to hide.

A thought comes to him out of nowhere. “Let’s take one now.”

“What?”

“A picture.” Dawson fishes his phone out of his pocket, suddenly eager about the idea. “Let’s take one.”

“Oh.” Cal’s face lights up. “I’d like that.”

After a moment of hesitation, Dawson shuffles closer to Cal until they’re almost hip to hip. He turns the camera on and stretches out his arm, trying to get a good angle, but their faces are too far apart to fit properly in the frame.

“I’m really bad at taking selfies. I, uh, think we need to be closer.”

Entirely oblivious to Dawson’s internal struggle, Cal leans slightly back and puts a hand on the ground behind Dawson, so his body is angled towards him and their faces only inches apart.

“Better?”

Dawson swallows around the rock that’s suddenly in his throat. Trying to steady his trembling hand, he says, “Better. Alright, smile.” He’s not sure who he’s telling it to. It feels like a major effort to summon a smile that doesn’t look completely deranged. It gets easier when he focuses on Cal instead. Cal’s trying to smile, but his brows are furrowed like the concept of smiling for a picture is foreign to him. It makes Dawson grin, and he presses the shutter, the automated function taking five pictures in a quick succession.

“How does it look?” Cal asks when Dawson swipes through the photos, shaking with how much he wants to laugh.

“Like we have no idea what’s going on.” He positions the phone so Cal can see.

Cal cocks his head, studying the picture intently. “I like it.”

“What?” Dawson snorts in disbelief.

Cal smiles—now that’s a smile worthy of the camera—then lifts his gaze to Dawson. “You’re very beautiful.”

“Uh, thanks.” Dawson’s face feels like it’s sunburned. He fumbles with the phone, not used to Cal looking at him like that. “Do you want me to send it to you?” He’d rather delete it—they look like idiots—but that would probably upset Cal.