“Abe cocked his head to the side and rested his ear against his shoulder, a position he had come to find gave him comfort ever since he was a child. It was like a hug that required no one else. With this and the aid of the rum, his worry and dread seemed to dissipate: the terror of Simcoe, his guilt over Thomas, and how his father would never stop comparing them. Other things, like how he always missed Anna and that it seemed he could never give Mary what she needed. It was Washington and the rest of the ring, or figuring out how his farm was going to survive another season. It was the enigma that was Robert. They all became fuzzy, softer at their edges, as if they belonged to someone else. Or even better, they were some glimmer of a nightmare long forgotten in the morning sun.
He could let them dissolve into the ether and focus on his body slackening or that his mouth tasted sweet with drink. His mind wandered to warmer things: Anna’s soft skin, and how her cheek felt against his face when he hadn’t shaved, or while he labored in his fields he’d bask in the hot summer sun against his back that contrasted so delightfully with his hands buried in the cool earth. His mouth twitched as he relaxed into the sensation, almost as if he was really there, inside the memory, able to feel the breeze on his skin and hear the summer bugs call to one another. He could smell the sweet scent of Mary’s hair, wild and firelit when he held her close on the winter nights. Then, Robert’s hands arrived at the forefront of his mind, with his graceful, long fingers, and his eyes, as deep in color as the earth beneath Autumn’s blanket of leaves. Eyes that hid the man behind them as deftly as the fallen leaves of the forest hid the rich soil below. Could Abe ever truly know him? Would Robert let him try? His mind burrowed deeper within the thought, allowing himself to sink into the feel of him, if only for a moment: Abe imagined those pretty fingers tracing the ridgeline of his bare hip, Robert’s gaze darkening with want. What would he look like? Hungry and unlaced from the confines of his daytime self? What would Robert look like when he begged for what he wanted?” X- Chapter 2 of “We Could Be the Embers”
