Page 61 of The Intimacy of Skin

Two and a Half Years Later

Icy blue and perfect white mixed into a horizon of Arctic Ocean. The color and intensity of his eyes still made me stop short sometimes. Ice dwelled atop the water, spreading its way to my fire, dwindling it down to a simmer.

Evaporated steam swirled around me as his eyes began to sparkle, and a large, toothy grin curled around his lips. Crew fought hard over the years. His smile wasn’t rare like it used to be, and every time he graced me with one, it was pure. He was truly happy.

Crew waved at me, ushering me forward. Chairs were still stacked atop the dining tables, waiting to be set for service.

We weren’t open yet; my hard-working staff were still doing prep.

The doors shut behind me, locking automatically as I walked through the dining room.

A single table was set up with what looked to be papers sitting on top of it.

Crew stood behind it, Jesse looking at the papers next to him.

Even with my longer stride, it took me a second to catch up to where they stood.

When we bought the building, we decided to break down a few walls to create a larger-than-life area that could seat up to one hundred and twenty guests.

With how often we worked at capacity, it was one of our best ideas to date.

Jesse looked up just as I made it to the table. “Hey, boss man.” He gave me a playful nudge on the arm. One of his boyfriends stood off to the side, looking more like a bodyguard. Both of their aprons were wrinkled to all hell, leaving little to the imagination of why.

“What’s up, Golden?” I nudged him back.

“Oh, you know, the usual. Listening to your man obsess about shit he knows we’re more than capable of handling.” He bent slightly to grab up the papers spread across the table. “I told him he needs to get a move on, but he wouldn’t listen to me.”

Crew gasped, his mouth gaping. “I just want to make sure the place won’t burn down while we’re gone, thank you very much.”

I pulled him into my arms, nearly suffocating him as I pressed his head into my chest. “Baby, you know Isaac can handle anything important. And Callum and Tobi have the kitchen under control. They’ll call us the moment anything happens, if it does at all.”

Crew struggled against my hold, looking up at me with a pout. “I know, but it’s our first time away since we opened. What if something awful happens, or someone gets super mean, and we aren’t here?”

Sometimes, it felt like the better my anxiety got, the more intense Crew’s became. I rubbed my hands up and down his arms soothingly. “Everything will be okay,” I promised him, staring into his eyes, knowing he’d see the truth in them.

I felt him relax against me. “Fine. Let me just say bye to Tobi and Callum, and then we can go. The rest of the morning shift should be coming in soon.”

The doors behind us opened just as Crew began to pull away. Looking over my shoulder, I smiled when I saw Jesse rush towards them.

“’Sup, Liam.” I nodded to him, ignoring the way he hoisted Jesse up into a hug that took him off his feet. The only reply I got was a nod of acknowledgement.

When I turned my attention back in front of me, Tobi and Callum were standing with an overstressed Crew.

After the snowstorm and a bit of therapy, Tobi and Crew started to talk again.

They talked, and talked, and kept talking until they formed a close friendship.

It took Crew a long time and a shit ton of reassurance until some of the guilt he felt began to melt from his shoulders.

There were still days when he felt overwhelmed by their past. He got in his head about what happened and needed some extra time with Tobi or his therapist to talk things through. Those days were fewer and fewer now, though.

“Do you have Cassandra’s number? Just in case.” Crew pointed his question to Tobi.

He nodded, nearing exasperated. “Yes, I have her number. Just go, C. We’ll be fine.” Tobi was a lot more confident now, finding his voice and personality easier.

Cassandra had been a godsend. Our first potential investor backed out, worried that someone without professional training would fail too easily.

Not Cassandra. She adored the idea so much that we agreed the majority of our staff would be underqualified, most of the training being done on-site. We hired passionate cooks, overlooked servers, and opened our doors to anyone and everyone, no matter their expertise or lack thereof.

My staff and our supporters were what made Fire and Ice the restaurant it was. Without them, Crew and I would be lost.

Willow continued to earn promotions, venturing her work further, making her knowledge more and more valuable as time went on.

Jesse was a brilliant floor manager. His people skills were perfection, he was plenty likable, and he could be stern when it was necessary.

Isaac was amazing at back-of-house operations. He understood computer systems, how to negotiate with suppliers, and helped me with anything I couldn’t handle myself.

Callum and Tobi took care of our kitchen staff. I preferred to be involved in the cooking, so even though I was their boss, I let them take the reins and got to immerse myself in what I loved.

Crew handled the numbers. He was our lifeline for understanding what we needed, what we didn’t, and how much money we were making versus spending. The math whiz I never knew I needed.

I never imagined I’d open a successful restaurant.

I never thought my dream would become a reality.

When I let myself fantasize about it, I always saw Samantha by my side during it all.

There was peace in acceptance, though. I learned to let the hurt I felt from my first friend motivate me through life.

The hurt she caused became my new reason to create meaningful connections. I consider myself friends with a lot of people now, Crew included.

After a bit more bickering, I reached out to Crew and pulled him by the arm. “Let’s go, Pretty Boy.”

“Call me if you need me!” he yelled into the room, dragging his feet as we went .

The moment we got into the car, Crew relaxed against the seat with a satiated sigh. No matter how much he tried to deny it, he needed this break as much as I did.

I knew he was stressed about our trip. He’d made leaps and bounds in therapy, learning how to navigate a life he never expected to have. Although he’d probably be in therapy for many years to come, Crew and I had learned so much about how to manage his PTSD, and it gave him hope.

He told me once that he felt like he deserved happiness.

I couldn’t agree more.

Our trip was going to focus on finding closure and facing his past in a safer environment. He had no idea what I had planned for him.

The plane ride wasn’t too exhausting. Now we had a few hours’ drive before we could rest for the night.

I could hear Crew doing his breathing exercises in the passenger seat as we got closer—something we were both accustomed to now.

I felt his body shaking where he was gripping my arm to ground himself.

His fingertips were ice-cold against my body heat, forcing a shiver to run through me as well.

My arm was free of any blemishes. I was still in therapy. I had an appointment once a month and was on my way to graduating from it completely, weaning off my anxiety medication slowly but surely. The itching and urges came and went, but I hadn’t given in to them in over a year now.

Spreading my fingers along his thigh, I tried to soothe Crew the best I could. “We don’t have to do this today, you know. We could always head to the Bed ’n Breakfast and do it tomorrow.”

He let out a long, slow breath before shaking his head.

“No, I’m ready. I think the hardest part of this all has been not getting any justice, y’know?

” He paused, taking a moment to form his feelings into words.

That was another thing he’d worked on with Emily.

“I wanna get it over with and see if this’ll bring me any closure like we talked about. ”

“All right. You know it’s okay if it doesn’t, right? Whatever you feel, you’re allowed to feel. We’ll deal with the rest later.”

“I know.” He leaned against the shoulder he held captive. “I know we will. We always get through it, right?”

Despite all the reassurance and support I could offer, Crew began to clam up the moment we arrived at Tiger Falls Cemetery.

I drove at a snail’s pace, not only to be mindful of the others gathered here for their loved ones, but to give him extra time to acclimate.

We knew the general direction of the grave we were visiting thanks to Tobias’s mom’s nosey friend, who’d heard “rumors” about the man.

I put the rental in park. The cemetery was small, proportionate to the tiny population. Graves were spread out everywhere. Some were huge, double graves for couples or families. Others were simple—rectangles dug into the ground, so dirty the names and dates were no longer visible.

One grave stood out the most, not far from where we’d parked.

It was medium-sized and pristine. Flowers, knickknacks, angel figurines, and a lantern wrapped around it, showing pure celebration of a loved one dearly missed.

An angel was carved into the stone, just above the name I couldn’t quite make out.

More writing, possibly a quote, outlined the bottom before drifting into the life date.

Her grave sprouted with love, even after death.

Crew silently opened the car door, and I followed. We walked in silence too, walking just a few feet away from the decorated grave until we stopped in front of another.

Unlike the one nearby, this grave screamed with neglect. Hatred. There was no stone or rusted rectangle. What used to be a white sign stood crooked, poking haphazardly from the ground.

Thompson Cooper.

This was it. There lay a vile, disgusting man who used his life to ruin others.