What are we gonna do?” After we sped off from the nursing home, I waited a full five minutes before coming out of my hiding spot. Fear held me there, certain that I’d be shot the moment I popped my head up. Slowly, I raised myself up but stayed in the back, feeling more comforted behind Martin. His presence was enough for me at that moment. I knew I was safe there with him, whatever else was going on in the world.

“The only thing I know to do at this late hour.” Martin took the corner slowly, visibly forcing himself to calm down and get a hold on his adrenaline.

“And what’s that?” I slowly crawled up to the front with him, placing my hand on his shoulder and leaving it there. Everything we’d been through that night made me feel so much closer to him. I thought about his mom in that place, and my mom, and what those guys had said. I squeezed my eyes to keep from giving into the tears.

“My condo is on Pendleton.” He leaned his head over and caressed my hand with his cheek. I don’t even think he realized that he did it.

I felt a familiar warmth spread through me at the tenderness in his touch. “Pendleton? Figures.” I gave his shoulder a playful squeeze.

A short time later, we pulled into his gated parking lot and walked the three flights of stairs up to his unit. “Don’t you believe in elevators?” I panted.

“Other side of the building.” He didn’t seem like he’d struggled at all with the climb.

As soon as he unlocked the door and swung it open, the smell of disinfectant hit me. I stepped through the door and looked around. It was tidy, as expected from a former SEAL, but it had a hurried, lived-in look to it as well. Boxes were stacked in the corner, the phrase ‘medical supplies’ neatly printed across each of them.

“Um, let me make up a room for you.” He went into a room on the left of the living area, and I followed. “Sorry about the set up.”

A hospital bed took up half of the small room, and more medical gear and fixtures came out of the wall. Pictures of Martin at various young ages lined the wall across from the bed. I went to them, drawn by a gravitational pull to peer inside his life. From left to right, I walked the length of the wall, watching a small, round-faced boy turn to a towering, muscular, neat man. All the while, those piercing green eyes barely aged, the light still shining bright in each picture.

“Here, this should do for now.” He brought me back to the here and now.

I turned to see that he’d replaced the stark white sheets with a light pastel comforter. I smiled at him, “Perfect. I’m so exhausted, I’ll probably pass out on top of the covers anyway.”

“I think there are some nightgowns left in the bureau.” Martin raised a hand toward the other side of the room. “Not sure if they’ll fit, though. Ma’s so small.” His voice nearly cracked, but he coughed to cover it.

I slowly walked to him carefully, as if trying not to spook a feral cat. I felt lightheaded, unsure if it was still from the alcohol or the weight of the moment we shared, standing in his mother’s room together. The stress of the night hung in the air like a dense fog. I wanted nothing more than to fall onto the bed and let the darkness take it all away. Yet, there was one thing I wanted more. I sat on the edge of the bed and ran my hand along the soft, fluffy comforter. “Sit with me.” I barely whispered the words, afraid of breaking the spell.

Martin stood still and shook his head. “I’m still pretty amped up. I’m gonna get a shower and try to relax.” He twisted a pillow in his large hands.

“I’m not trying to seduce you,” I half-lied. I wanted him; God, I wanted him. But he needed something more tonight. “Let me make you some tea.” I stood and took the pillow he’d been worrying. “Go get your shower.”

I watched as he passed me, a boy doing as he was told. He seemed smaller, more vulnerable than I imagined possible for a man of his stature.

Nearly half an hour passed before he emerged from the shower. He towel-dried his wet hair. A crisp, new, white t-shirt clung to his body, tan cargo shorts forming a wider outline on his already hulking frame. The scent of his clean skin made my head spin. I imagined him running a manly bar of soap across a hairy chest. No liquid body wash for him. He caught me looking and stopped. “Should I change?” he asked.

“No, no, it’s fine.” I poured a cup of hot tea for both of us. “Sit.”

Martin sat on one side of his ancient-looking brown couch and covertly placed his towel on the middle cushion, leaving me no choice but to sit on the far end. I wondered which one of us he didn’t trust as I handed him a full cup.

We sat there in near silence, each of us sipping our tea, neither wanting to risk saying the wrong thing and breaking the spell of our finally quiet evening.