Free Cuts Like An Angel by Mason Sabre, Lucian Bane

things.
    “I’ve been …” he let out a light sound, maybe a dry chuckle “getting my shit together.”
    Rosie didn’t stop her gasp of joy. “Oh, William,” she said. “I cannot tell you how happy that makes me.”
    “Rosie …”  This time his tone jerked her stomach; it was different than ever before “It’s probably very unhealthy to love hearing that more than I care about breathing.”
    Oh shit. Definitely not healthy. “Don’t be silly, William.” But her voice shook a little as she doodled with her pen for a proper response.
    “Too much honesty,” he said, like it was always the thing that shot down his attempts to live.
    “Not at all. That’s just a hefty compliment. And I’m not so good at those, remember?”
    He was quiet then. “I do remember. And I wonder why.” Before she could formulate a response, he let out a sigh, and it sounded like he turned over. “So, can I call you again, Rosie?”
    Her mind saw him lying in a bed. That was better than being on some ledge. “You can call me anytime, William.” She made sure to keep her voice to the motherly side of gentle.
    “I mean … not there.”
    Her stomach began to roil with butterflies and fears. “Th-that’s …”
    “Against protocol, I know.”
    The softness in his voice again said he was definitely somewhere … private … and her mind decided to create pictures. It started with needing a face to go with his voice which was … like deep silk. The vision of a broad mouth with semi-full lips formed in her head. Neglected facial hair. Green eyes. No, brown. Hm. William . Maybe they were blue. Before she could stop, his face insisted on a body, turning her harmless Mr. Potato head game into tangled sheets, zero clothes, and muscles that matched the rough, yet gentle voice.
    “That’s right, protocol,” she said with flaming cheeks. God, who was she kidding? She was so far gone with protocol with him. “There are rules in this world, William. They’re there to keep us safe.”
    “I don’t make you feel unsafe, do I?”
    His tone said he’d be very hurt and disappointed if he did. “Not yet,” she said, replacing that professional barrier she’d stupidly removed.
    “Good,” he said, in grateful relief. “I feel so relaxed when I hear your voice, Rosie.” Again, it sounded like he turned over. “I don’t sleep well.”
    “Do you take any medication?”
    “No,” he mumbled. “What about you, how are you doing?”
    The unexpected concern threw her a moment, causing her to stutter.
    “You don’t have to answer,” he said, sounding a little sad but understanding.
    “No, it’s fine,” she said. “I’m good. My cat is good.”
    “You have a cat?”
    “Yes, Mr. Buckles.”
    “Mr. Buckles.” His voice seemed to smile. “I have a cat, too. Stiches.”
    “Stiches,” Rosie said, smiling.
    “He thinks he’s a ninja and tries to take my life when I’m using the stairs.”
    Rosie laughed. “Does he cause a lot of stitches?”
    “Wow,” he whispered.
    “What?”
    “Your laugh,” he said amazed. “It’s like … liquid sunshine, and I just want to drink it up and never stop.”
    Rosie’s panic returned in more laughter, only she was sure it wasn’t like sunshine. “Sorry, bad at compliments,” she reminded him. “You’ve got some real doozies.” He laughed and she cried out, “Aha. You have a special laugh too.”
    “Special?” he wondered in eager curiosity. “How, Rosie? Does my laugh do something to you?”
    Shit . “It … it makes me …” Hell, what words were okay? “Very happy to hear you happy.”
    She waited in the silence with clenched eyes, wondering what team she’d scored for. Team Rosie, or Team William.
    “Rosie.”
    Wow . Another new tone. Or was she hearing things she shouldn’t? She could pretend she was making it all up, but was pretty sure she wasn’t. That was arousal she’d just heard in his voice. “It’s perfectly normal to feel happy when somebody is happy