Chapter 22
“What?”
“I’m just trying to figure out if I’m dreaming. Am I sick, did I come here—wherever here is—or am I…? Is this heaven, Rory?” Jacob asked.
“Hmm.” Rory raised him from a crouch, and then brought their lips together. “If it wasn’t before,” he said against Jacob’s, “I think it might be now. It’s definitely mine.”
“Aww.” Jacob gently brushed his cheek.
“Eh, I had fifty years to work on my lines.”
“It feels real. It feels the same, except you’re different.”
“I guess I grew up some…maybe over there.”
Jacob pulled Rory closer, the mention of Vietnam, even in a roundabout way, making it necessary to feel as much flesh to flesh contact as possible. “You went?”
“There’s a recollection. No pain, though. No residual fear.”
“I’m afraid,” Jacob suddenly said.
“Tell me.” Rory started to remove Jacob’s clothes. He struggled with the vest, because of how close they were, and fumbled with the buttons on the paisley shirt. “Tell me what you’re scared of.”