“I know.”
“So tell me what you were thinking about, before. I can try to make you think of it again. Or something.”
“I wasn’t.”
“What?”
“I wasn’t thinking,” Colby whispered. To the greenscreen backdrop, to the ship-set, to the universe: a secret made more intimate by revelation. “I only felt—I wanted—Will would want to be touched, of course, at that moment…”
Jason took the hand off the railing. Kept his voice even-keeled with some effort. “You don’t like being touched, do you?”
* * * *
The question hung in the air. A portent. An omen. A curse.
“I don’t mind being touched,” Colby said lightly. Anything else would break him into pieces. “I especially don’t mind when I know what to expect. In advance. If I really did mind, I’d be entirely in the wrong profession, wouldn’t I?”
“You do
