Free Kid Gloves by Anna Martin Page A

pulled away, Finn had to fight the little sound of distress in his throat and turned quickly, placing another kiss to the palm of Dalton’s hand.
    “Take that,” Dalton said, his own voice rough, “and remember me, and come back safely.”
    “I will. I promise.”
    Finn slipped out of his lover’s embrace and through the door, not trusting himself to look back. In a moment, he was gone.

The Letters
     
    D ALTON ,
    I am writing to tell you I have arrived back at the camp safely. The journey here was blissfully uneventful, if a little slow. I have already met with Tennessee (who has asked me to pass on his regards) and he is very pleased with the progress I have made.
    I miss you, Dalton. There—I said it. I wasn’t sure if I could. But I do—miss you, that is—it feels strange that after such short a time it became so normal to be around you. I hope you’re well. I’ll send more news when I can.
    Yours,
    Finn
     
     
    F INN ,
    I’m glad you made it there safely. I’ll admit I was nervous, waiting for your letter so I knew for sure. It’s a terrible thought, but I knew that if anything happened to you on the journey no one would think of contacting me. Well, maybe they would, after a time, maybe to return the hand to me. Or maybe not.
    Business has been slow these past few weeks, I’ve had plenty of time to replenish my stocks. It’s probably because I’ve been opening odd hours, although that’s not exactly anything new.
    I miss you too, sweet boy. Look after yourself.
    Dalton
     
     
    D ALTON ,
    I only received your letter last night. Tennessee delivered it to me. I think he knows, or at least suspects, that there’s something more to our relationship. I told him we’d grown close while you were helping me learn how to use the new hand and he accepted this. But you know Tennessee—he’s not one to hold back his opinions.
    Things picked up suddenly here last week and I was sent out on my own for the first time since returning to the camp. It was nice to be back out doing what I do best—living alone, under canvas hunting and living for myself. It was a reconnaissance mission, that’s all I dare say in a letter, and I was successful. That means I don’t have to do the next one, which gives me time to write.
    There was something I never asked while in London—why is it that you go by one name only? If you’d prefer not to answer I don’t mind. I send these letters addressed to one name only and they always seem to find you.
    Hoping you’re well (and that my paper was longer so I might write more),
    Finn
     
     
    M Y F INN ,
    Congratulations on your mission. How is your hand?
    I suppose the story isn’t as interesting as one might think. I don’t know my given name. When living with my mother she would call me “kid”—an affectionate term, I assure you—and after a time I must have forgotten the name I was christened with.
    A few years ago I looked up the registry for names and found my family. From what I could guess my name was either John or Edward, but knowing for sure would mean contacting people I haven’t spoken to in many years, and I’m reluctant to do that. I am used to answering to Dalton now.
    Please find enclosed in this parcel all the paper I could buy at Spitalfields. Oh, so it’s not all the paper—I exaggerate. But you are out of excuses for not sending me long letters.
    Sometimes I wake in the night and roll over, looking for the warmth of your body. It feels cold here without you, even though it’s warmer outside. I hope you’re not cold, sleeping with only canvas for cover.
    Yours,
    Dalton
     
     
    D ALTON ,
    I apologize, again and again, for the lateness of my reply. I was sent out again, for two weeks this time, and your letter was waiting for me when I returned. Tennessee said that it had been waiting for me for days already so I imagine you have been waiting for my reply for some time.
    Tennessee knows of our relationship now—knows what you are to me, and I to