Chapter 4
“Richie, you’re exhausted. You’ve been working eighteen hour days for weeks now. God knows when you’ve had any time to yourself. You should have let me help you tonight.”
Richie’s misery and disappointment was reaching Ben Nevis proportions. He was disgusted with himself. With his weakness; with his shaking hands. With the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, and the bitter taste of failure. He looked down at Ben’s hand as it rested comfortingly on his arm. Richie didn’t do a lot of touching others, always worrying whether it was too presumptuous, but that wasn’t to say that he didn’t crave it for himself. And, good grief, the warmth of Ben’s hand felt great; the touch of gentle strength that Richie knew ran throughout the man’s body. Richie wondered what the hell he was thinking, burdening his best friend with such embarrassment.