Coda (Songs of Submission #9) by CD Reiss Read Free Book Online Page A

tone.
    “Forgiveness from you. Enough to get your mother back to him.”
    He put his hand over his face and rubbed his eyes. “That’s what that whole thing was about. I barely remember it. I was in and out of consciousness ten times in a minute.” He patted my hand then rubbed my fingers. “What did you want?”
    I balled my hand into a fist. I didn’t want his affection. I couldn’t bear to feel it stop when I put the pieces together for him. “So I saw Brad’s list. I didn’t understand how it worked. So I thought what I was seeing was… you were second, and I thought it meant you were going to die. It seemed like a guarantee. And Paulie Patalano was brain-dead and right on the fourth floor.” Unable to stand the weight of his gaze, I looked in my lap, where his hand rested in mine, our fourth fingers still circled by the cheap silver key rings. “I thought your father could get me access to Paulie’s room.”
    He moved his hand away, placing it at his side. I wished he’d slapped me in the face. It would have been somehow kinder.
    “Did he?”
    “He did. He’s very clever. And everything you said about him is probably right. But I was the one who went in Paulie’s room. I was going to do it. I was going to end him so you could get his heart.” I didn’t mention Jessica’s part. What I’d done was my choice and my responsibility. Now wasn’t the time to diffuse it with Jessica-shaped shadow play. “I knew what it meant. I knew that if my plan worked, you’d have a heart that you thought was stolen. You never would have felt right about yourself. I knew I was condemning you, in a way. And us. I knew you wouldn’t forgive me. I was ending us. And I should say I’m sorry, but I’d do it again if I thought it would save your life.”
    “You didn’t do it though.”
    “Brad texted me while I was in the room. He had a heart from that poor guy in Ojai. The one who jogs and hates spicy food apparently. So I didn’t have to go through with it.”
    He took my hand again and rubbed each finger as if considering their ability to do harm. “God saved you.”
    “You believe in God? You believe he’d step in and save me? And he’d kill someone to do it?”
    “God was in Brad’s text. I believe that. But swear to me, I mean, I don’t think that circumstance will recur, but swear to me you won’t ever consider something like that again.”
    “I won’t let you die if I can prevent it. I don’t feel right about it, and I won’t pretend I do, but it’s like how a soldier must feel when he kills the enemy. I’m sure it doesn’t feel good, but there wasn’t a choice. And if it comes to me not having a choice again, I’ll do it again.”
    I searched his face for distaste or foul rancor, and I found none. Then I looked for disquiet or emotional blankness, and I found none of that either. I couldn’t read him, even when he took my arms and pulled me forward onto him. I rested my head on his chest.
    “I have to tell you,” he said, “I’m scared of death. But you? You put death to shame.”
    “Do you still love me?”
    “Yes.”
    “Are you going to leave me?”
    “No.”
    “Do you forgive me?”
    He took a long time to answer. I told myself it didn’t matter, that his forgiveness was beside the point when I had his love.
    “I fear you. I am in awe of you. I can’t forgive you for something you didn’t do.”
    I’d thought I was committed to him before. I’d thought I’d given him my whole heart and that I owned him completely. But I hadn’t. Maybe I’d spend the rest of his life realizing I’d never owned him, loved him, or committed to him fully. Maybe it was a matter of the changing acoustics of an ever-expanding heart.
    I kissed his scar, and he stroked my hair. I worked down his body and took his cock in my mouth. I wanted to eat him alive, swallow his forgiveness, absorb his compassion. I wanted to become him, to own his pain and kindness, his sadism and his maturity, holding