“Jesse, I’m sorry,” Ethan stammered, his eyes filling with tears. “It’s all my fault. You should’ve been there. I’m so sorry…”
Jesse grabbed Ethan in a rough embrace. Burying his face in the soft curls, he let hot tears course silently down his cheeks, the fresh smell of his lover’s hair blocking out the death around them. Cautiously Ethan wrapped his arms around Jesse, tentative, unsure.
When Jesse found his voice, it was thick with sadness and anger. “It’s not your fault,” he assured his lover. “It was an ambush. I’d be dead, too.”
“I’m sorry,” Ethan whispered again, hugging Jesse close.
He wiped his tears in Ethan’s curls. “But I’m not dead.” Ethan shook his head. “Maybe I didn’t deal this hand but I’ll play the cards as they lay.”
“What?” Ethan asked. Then, realizing what Jesse was saying, he shook his head again, adamant this time. “No. You don’t have to, Jesse. No.”
Jesse no longer heard him. For Kit and Diego.For Joey Jr.He’d finish the game.