Mark knew that to be the absolute truth. Francis would never hurt him intentionally. He supposed being a grown man and feeling intense relief at the thought should’ve felt weird. Like when had his own father care about that sort of stuff, right?
But Mark wasn’t his father and thank God for that. He was everything his father had never been and more. If slowly learning to be more in touch with his feelings took him even further away from the kind of male role model he’d had in his life, then what? He knew what trying to live up to those expectations had done to him for over thirty years.
“I love you,” Mark murmured.
Francis’s fingers stopped in his hair, and then started again. “I love you too, darling.”
Mark burrowed closer to Francis. “Good night.”
“Good night. I’ll make sure you wake up in time to have breakfast.”
* * * *
Luckily, the summer started with heat that wasn’t too oppressive, and Francis made the Grahams go out into the fresh air every day.