Greek.
He grabbed a handful of books at once, so he never would find out which one the paper fell out of. As he stooped to collect it from the box, he noticed it was yellowed and empty, apart from one line written in a hand he knew oh so well.
A father’s heart swells with pride. It’s difficult to only want the best.
The piece of paper drifted from Hart’s fingers again, coming to a silent stop on top of Aristotle’s sketched face. He couldn’t do this. Not tonight, not after being awake for so long. Not after dealing with Drake and Toby and on top of that nearly being blown to pieces. He grabbed the half-empty wine bottle, downed one more glass, and poured the rest into the sink. This could wait until tomorrow.
Hart made his way up the stairs, avoiding the books piled on each step. When his mom was still alive, she’d endlessly complained about his father leaving books everywhere. I don’t know how it happens, sweetheart. It’s like they have a mind of their own. She’d said she felt like a Border collie trying to herd them all back into the library. But ask Jonathan Hart where one of his books was and he’d hand it over within two minutes.
Hart was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, mouth white with minty foam as he eyed the red mark on his cheek, when his phone chimed in his back pocket. He fished it out and swiped the screen.
Are you up?
Isaac.
Yes , Hart replied, spitting into the sink and rinsing his mouth, eyes on the little bubble telling him Isaac was replying.
Can you talk?
Give me five.
The sheets felt cool against Hart’s slightly overheated skin when he slipped between them. The combination of medication from earlier and most of a bottle of red wine left him feeling boneless and compliant. A low arousal sent his bones humming, but he was too tired to acknowledge it fully.
It still took him a second to lie comfortably so his side and wrist didn’t ache, and just as the pillows behind him cradled him nicely, his phone rang, the screen lighting up with Isaac’s sweet grin.
“Hi.”
“Hey, I—I didn’t wake you, did I?” Isaac’s voice came through clearer than it had through the old landline downstairs, and it felt strangely intimate to talk to him like this. There could be no harm in preserving that feeling here by himself, where no one else knew, so Hart turned off his bedside lamp and settled in with nothing but the sheets caressing his skin and Isaac’s voice in his right ear.
“No, but you sound like you’ve been asleep yourself.”
“Uh, yeah. I figured I’d have a better chance getting ahold of you at this hour. I didn’t want to disturb—”
“You’re not disturbing me, Isaac. Call me anytime, all right? How’s it going?” Hart felt himself relax further, and he sank deeper into the pillows, his lower back pleasantly easing out of an ache.
“Good, uh, yeah. Really good. I separated the little, what’s it called? Sunburst?”
“Sunburst Platy, yes.”
“I like that,” Isaac said, and Hart grinned. He liked it too. “So yeah, I separated her from the rest because, like you suspected, she’s gotten pretty fat.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that.” Hart closed his eyes, feeling himself drift a little on the sound of Isaac’s voice. He imagined his tropical aquarium. The filters would be buzzing slightly, and the fish would be gliding to and fro, caught up in their own compact world. Was Isaac looking at them now? Or was he in bed, Hart’s possibly, or the spare one—he’d been given free use of either.
“Ha, no. So, she’s gotten pretty big, and she kind of hung out by herself in the corner of the tank, so I put her in quarantine like you showed me.”
“Good. That’s great, Isaac. Thank you. You know what to do when she gives birth?”
“Yeah, I’ve still got the notebook, but I know it all by heart now. Uh.” Isaac fell silent, and Hart grinned. He could imagine that young face so clearly as it blushed a fetching pink.
For a
He grabbed a handful of books at once, so he never would find out which one the paper fell out of. As he stooped to collect it from the box, he noticed it was yellowed and empty, apart from one line written in a hand he knew oh so well.
A father’s heart swells with pride. It’s difficult to only want the best.
The piece of paper drifted from Hart’s fingers again, coming to a silent stop on top of Aristotle’s sketched face. He couldn’t do this. Not tonight, not after being awake for so long. Not after dealing with Drake and Toby and on top of that nearly being blown to pieces. He grabbed the half-empty wine bottle, downed one more glass, and poured the rest into the sink. This could wait until tomorrow.
Hart made his way up the stairs, avoiding the books piled on each step. When his mom was still alive, she’d endlessly complained about his father leaving books everywhere. I don’t know how it happens, sweetheart. It’s like they have a mind of their own. She’d said she felt like a Border collie trying to herd them all back into the library. But ask Jonathan Hart where one of his books was and he’d hand it over within two minutes.
Hart was standing in front of the bathroom mirror, mouth white with minty foam as he eyed the red mark on his cheek, when his phone chimed in his back pocket. He fished it out and swiped the screen.
Are you up?
Isaac.
Yes , Hart replied, spitting into the sink and rinsing his mouth, eyes on the little bubble telling him Isaac was replying.
Can you talk?
Give me five.
The sheets felt cool against Hart’s slightly overheated skin when he slipped between them. The combination of medication from earlier and most of a bottle of red wine left him feeling boneless and compliant. A low arousal sent his bones humming, but he was too tired to acknowledge it fully.
It still took him a second to lie comfortably so his side and wrist didn’t ache, and just as the pillows behind him cradled him nicely, his phone rang, the screen lighting up with Isaac’s sweet grin.
“Hi.”
“Hey, I—I didn’t wake you, did I?” Isaac’s voice came through clearer than it had through the old landline downstairs, and it felt strangely intimate to talk to him like this. There could be no harm in preserving that feeling here by himself, where no one else knew, so Hart turned off his bedside lamp and settled in with nothing but the sheets caressing his skin and Isaac’s voice in his right ear.
“No, but you sound like you’ve been asleep yourself.”
“Uh, yeah. I figured I’d have a better chance getting ahold of you at this hour. I didn’t want to disturb—”
“You’re not disturbing me, Isaac. Call me anytime, all right? How’s it going?” Hart felt himself relax further, and he sank deeper into the pillows, his lower back pleasantly easing out of an ache.
“Good, uh, yeah. Really good. I separated the little, what’s it called? Sunburst?”
“Sunburst Platy, yes.”
“I like that,” Isaac said, and Hart grinned. He liked it too. “So yeah, I separated her from the rest because, like you suspected, she’s gotten pretty fat.”
“Don’t let her hear you say that.” Hart closed his eyes, feeling himself drift a little on the sound of Isaac’s voice. He imagined his tropical aquarium. The filters would be buzzing slightly, and the fish would be gliding to and fro, caught up in their own compact world. Was Isaac looking at them now? Or was he in bed, Hart’s possibly, or the spare one—he’d been given free use of either.
“Ha, no. So, she’s gotten pretty big, and she kind of hung out by herself in the corner of the tank, so I put her in quarantine like you showed me.”
“Good. That’s great, Isaac. Thank you. You know what to do when she gives birth?”
“Yeah, I’ve still got the notebook, but I know it all by heart now. Uh.” Isaac fell silent, and Hart grinned. He could imagine that young face so clearly as it blushed a fetching pink.
For a
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