Wes and Kit by Shiloh Hollis

Author:Shiloh, Hollis [Shiloh, Hollis]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Spare Words Press
Published: 2014-08-03T22:00:00+00:00

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“Need a different tool?” Wes held the toolbox and looked down at me, his brow wrinkling with concern.

I wanted to tell Wes to stop fussing, but I appreciated the concern, and really, I didn’t want to scold him, especially in front of other people. Instead I gave him a narrow-eyed look and accepted the tool with a quiet thank-you.

He stepped back, biting his lip, perhaps feeling how silly he was being. But more likely not. I leaned back towards the clock to examine the insides of the housing-case. It was a large clock, very much like the one I’d repaired for Skeffield at his city home. In fact, most of the clocks here were rather like one another, at least to a layman’s eye. Even I could see the similarities; it was a wonder Skeffield had been blind to it. But then I suppose we’d all been a little preoccupied lately—perhaps just with different things.

I’d been preoccupied with Wes. Taking care of him. Letting him know I loved him. Settling in to our life together. The unfortunate thing was that he seemed to be becoming more and more obsessed with my health. I didn’t mind him taking care of me, at least a little bit. It was good that he never let me forget my pills; sometimes I’d been prone to that when on my own. But there were the other little marks of his insecurity about me, like the lines that furrowed his brow now. That couldn’t be healthy.

He also stood between me and the street, opened doors for me, liked to do any heavy lifting, and gave me quick glances from time to time, as if checking to see if I was going to collapse. I wanted to show him I wasn’t so terribly weak, but really, most of the time I’d known him, I had been. How could I prove something that wasn’t quite true?

I just didn’t want him to see me as an invalid or a project. It was beginning to feel that way at times. He wouldn’t even go to bed with me if he thought I was too tired. Oh, he’d make other excuses, but it was clearly out of concern for my heart.

Damnable heart! It had given me aches and pains and kept me from leading a full, rich life for so long, ever since I was a small boy. It wasn’t fair that it could keep me from having a full relationship, too!

I had always lived my life around the edges, the margins, making do, accepting the things I could do in life and pretending I didn’t want to do the others anyway. But I had: I’d wanted to play the rough and rowdy games my brother had. I’d even wanted to be strong enough to go to war.

I liked clocks, and repairing clocks, but I didn’t like the things taken from me by my condition. And now sometimes I even felt like I was losing Wes to his concern over my heart.

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