Chapter 20: James Sees

The bramble caught Max's cuff on the path back from the stables.

It was a long, vicious autumn bramble, and it hooked the gray wool and held on.

"Hold still," said James.

He took Max's wrist in both hands to unpick the thorn.

The sleeve slid back and the whole inside of Max's hand showed in the grey light, palm up.

White lines crossed it, thick and old.

James did not say anything.

He looked, and his thumb stopped on the thorn.

"It's nothing," said Max.

"I didn't say anything."

"It's an old burn. From before."

"I said nothing, did I?"

James freed the cuff and let the sleeve drop.

He was smiling, but the smile sat crooked on his face.

He looked down at Max's closed fist and then up at his eyes, and for once he had no joke ready.

"Come here," said Max, and heard how rough his own voice was.

He took James by the front of the collar and pulled him down and kissed him.

It was meant to stop the questions.

It stopped more than that.

James's mouth went slack, and then fierce, and he pushed Max back against the wall of the garden shed and kissed him with his whole body.

His hand slid under the gray coat and spread across Max's back.

The other went down, and found the back of his thigh, and curled there, warm and sure.

It was a place he had not touched before.

Max's breath broke.

Then James's silver crescents flared under his collar, where Max's fist was knotted in the cloth.

James froze.

His eyes were open and wide, and they were looking at nothing.

"Rain," he said. "I'm cold."

"James."

"I can't. I can't feel my legs. The water has me, it's got my boots."

Max did not move.

"There's a hand," said James. "On my collar. It's so small."

"James, stop."

"It's got a rope round it. Wet. It's got hemp round the fingers, red, the skin's going. It's pulling. It says, don't you dare, don't you dare."

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