Page 174 of Whisper

It was good to laugh again. Dinner turned to dancing, and Dan led him through swings, spins, and dips. He’d loved it, every moment, drank in the way he felt alive for the first time in four years.

He’d never had the chance to dance with David.

When a slow song played, Dan had stepped back, letting Kris go. There had been a heaviness in his gaze, a resignation that hadn’t been there before.

Kris had reached back for him, drawing him close again.

“Are you sure?” Dan had whispered. His hands had landed softly on Kris, as if afraid to actually hold him. “You know, don’t you? How I feel about you?”

“I know.”

“I’ve never asked you for anything. I never will, Kris. I know, I know how much you love him, still. I can’t replace him, I know that.”

“Dan...”

Dan had smiled, looked down at the floor. “This is the part where you say I’m just your friend. It’s just, dancing with you, like this—” He’d cradled Kris in his arms, so close their noses brushed. “I can’t help it. I amsoin love with you,” he’d whispered.

Kris had felt something snap then, the final break of something he’d buried and buried and tried to erase. The bottom had fallen out from beneath his feet, and again, like four years before, he was falling, plunging, a freefall into a darkness that he was already so intimately familiar with.

But, God, he couldn’t go back there. He couldn’t survive the freefall. He’d known he wouldn’t survive that darkness again.

He was lonely, and aching, and four years into a broken heart that hadn’t mended. He was riding high on adrenaline, on afuck youto the CIA that had put him there, and on waves of champagne. And Dan was there, warm and alive. He knew all of Kris’s sins and he still forgave him, still loved him.

If there was a bottom to the abyss Kris was lost in, if there was something after the freefall… Maybe it was Dan.

He’d nuzzled his nose against Dan’s, heard Dan’s sharp inhale. Felt Dan’s fingers curl on his back, into his tux. Felt Dan’s hand holding his tremble.

“Kris…”

He’d cut Dan’s words off with a kiss.

They didn’t stay long after that. Dan had nearly set a land speed record driving back to his house in Maryland, even in his shitty little electric car. He’d helped Kris out, wrapped his arms around him. Had kissed him, trying to guide him through his house without ever breaking their kiss, their hold.

Tuxes had flown, landing on the carpet and the back of a couch, a table in the hall. Dan had laid him down in his bed like Kris was the last copy of a timeless novel, a priceless jewel recovered from a shipwreck.

For a moment, Kris had hesitated. His wedding ring had been heavy on his left hand.

But David wasgone.

Dan had hovered over him, his gaze filled with so much desire, so much care. He’d crawled over Kris, their faces hovering, skin brushing. “If I could make it all go away,” he’d breathed, “I would. I would doanythingto make it better. Anything.”

“Make me feel,” Kris had whispered. “Make me feel alive again.”

Dan made love to him like his touch could heal Kris’s soul. His hands mapped Kris’s body, the long, lean lines of his legs, the taut muscles of his back. The scars on his chest. Kris was more awkward, having to relearn how to love, where to move, how to slide and arch and press into a new lover. Into someone not-David. But, it was easier than he’d thought, tumbling into bed with Dan.

Dan kissed him through it, watched him. Traced his eyes and his lips and his face, captured every gasp with a kiss. He took his time, until Kris thought he was going to come apart at the seams. His fingers had clawed Dan’s back, grabbed his hair, his ankles had wrapped around Dan’s hips, and he’djustmanaged to not shout David’s name.

Dan had buried his face in Kris’s neck when he came and breathed, “I love you.”

They came together twice more that night, Kris riding Dan and then Dan pounding him hard and fast as Kris screamed face-first into a pillow. They’d been a sweaty, sex-ruined mess when they finally fell asleep.

In the morning, Kris had woken alone, listening to Dan whistle softly to himself as he cooked breakfast.

It had felt wrong, suddenly, all wrong. He was still wearing his wedding ring. David wasn’t having sex, not in the afterlife. He’d said he’d wait for Kris. He’d said he’d always be Kris’s. None of that seventy-two virgins in paradise for David, they used to joke.

What thefuckhad he done? What would David think? Jesus, he had to get out of there. He had to go, just go. He’d jumped up, grabbed his pants and his button-down, gotten dressed.

He’d collapsed while trying to find his socks and ended up slumped on the carpet, his back to the bed he and Dan had partially destroyed.