Chapter Four
Eoin
I’m not sure what happened between me going to my meeting and lunch, but something upset Dáithí.
He wasn’t his usual self while we were eating—didn’t even ask about the meeting with the hockey club—and six hours later, he still seems off.
Niamh swears that he was fine when she left, that they’d worked out their differences.
I’m not totally convinced. She might just be saying it because she wants me to forget she was rude to him.
I don’t think I’m a bad boss, or a bad person, but sometimes it’s hard to hold back the part of me that wants to drape Dáithí in silk, install him on a velvet chaise, and protect him from life while I brush his hair and feed him chocolate truffles.
That part of me is very unhappy with Niamh right now.
“Did everything go okay with Niamh today?” I ask casually as I join him on the couch.
We’re at my place tonight, because Dáithí says I have the better TV to watch whatever his latest reality show obsession is.
I wasn’t about to argue—given how withdrawn he was at lunch, I was half expecting tonight to be one of the ones where he insists we be apart.
“Yeah, it was fine. You don’t need to be mad at her on my behalf.”
He doesn’t sound annoyed, but I can’t shake the feeling that something’s not right with him, so I say, “I know you can take care of yourself. I’m still mad at her, but I’m not going to interfere.”
That wins me a smile. “Aw. You’re learning.” He pats my thigh, but when he turns back to the TV, his hand slides away—and so does the smile.
Shit. How can I make this better? What even is this?
I hesitate for a few seconds longer, then throw caution to the wind. “Is everything okay? You seem… preoccupied.”
Dáithí goes still, then sighs. That can’t be good.
My fears are confirmed when he mutes his show and half turns toward me, tucking his leg up on the seat of the couch.
“I think…” He stops, and I stay quiet. I’m not completely sure what he wants to say, but every one of my instincts is screaming that I’m not going to like it. “Do people think they have the right to tell you their opinion of your personal life?”
I blink a few times, processing the question.
It’s not what I expected him to say. I feel like I might be getting a reprieve but I’m not out of the woods yet.
“Sometimes,” I admit, remembering the way Hagen cornered me the other day.
“Usually they’re close friends, and I tell them where they can stick their opinions. ”
He sighs again. “Yeah. That’s normally how I handle it too.
” For what feels like eternity, he stares into space, his face pensive.
This is really bothering him. Maybe it’s not about me, after all?
I assumed that someone had lectured him about our “situationship”—damn Hagen for getting that word stuck in my head—but it could be something else.
“Is it something I could help with?” I ask impulsively, drawing his attention back to me.
His expression softens into one I’ll never get sick of being on the receiving end of—fond caring. Dáithí might be holding back from a commitment, but I don’t have any doubt that he cares about me.
Then fondness morphs into unwilling determination. “I think it’s time for us to end this.”
It’s funny, I always assumed that if this moment came, I’d feel awful. Like I couldn’t breathe or was going to throw up. I assumed I’d be overtaken with anxiety and fear, maybe even cry.
Instead, my emotions blank out completely, my mind clearing as adrenaline pumps through my system. I know what this is—I’ve felt this before. My body is ready for battle. I’d laugh, if I wasn’t facing the most important battle of my life.
“Why?” I ask, and even my voice sounds normal. Steady, and a little curious. Not a quaver in sight.
It’s Dáithí’s turn to blink in surprise. “I… What do you mean, why? I don’t need to have a reason!”
I shrug. “Of course you don’t, and if you really want to end things, that’s your prerogative. I just wondered if this is your decision or if someone else has bullied you into it with their opinions.”
His mouth drops open. “Nobody bullied me! I don’t get bullied, thank you. I’m perfectly capable of handling bullies and everyone else when they try to shove their opinions down my throat.”
“That’s what I always believed,” I agree.
“If you’re telling me this has nothing to do with what anyone else thinks, I’ll accept that.
I’m confused, though, because this morning our arrangement”—there’s the slightest hitch on that word, but I power on, hoping he won’t notice—“suited us both fine. We like each other’s company, and I know I’m not being presumptuous when I say we’re like fire in bed. ”
The corner of Dáithí’s mouth turns up as his gaze heats, hopefully with the memory of what we did last night. “Yeah,” he breathes.
I spread my hands in a “there you go” gesture. “So it seems odd to me that everything was good, but now it isn’t, and somewhere in between then and now people have been mouthing off.”
Dáithí stares at me, then shakes his head. “You’re good.”
My heart is beating fast, thanks to the adrenaline, but I’m still in control of my feelings. “Am I? I thought we were good. That our arrangement was good.”
“It is, but…”
It takes every ounce of willpower I have not to interrupt. Not to tell him to forget the buts. If I do that, he’ll see through my calm facade and this will all be over.
“I know you want more, Eoin.”
Or he could have already seen through my facade. Fuck. What do I say now that can stop this from turning into a disaster? “I’ve lived long enough to know that I’m not always going to get everything I want. Besides, wanting more doesn’t mean I’m not already happy with what I have.”
He’s not convinced. “It’s cruel of me—”
“If the rest of that sentence is about me, don’t bother finishing it,” I cut in. “Nobody’s forcing me to be here, Dáithí. If I don’t have a problem with our current arrangement, then why should anyone else? You and I are the only ones who get a say.”
“Yeah.”
Relief surges through me—
“You and I are the only ones who get a say,” he continues, “and I can’t keep…
I don’t know, leading you on like this. You want us to be boyfriends, and I can’t believe that you’re boyfriend material.
It’s wrong of me to keep you trapped in this weird pre-relationship limbo just because I like your company and you fuck like it’s your life’s purpose. ”
My cock twitches with pride, but the rest of me is frantically trying to regroup. He’s really ending it, dammit. What am I supposed to do? I will not accept defeat; I’ve been on too many battlefields to just give up because it looks like I’m losing.
I go on the attack. “Why can’t you see me as boyfriend material?”
He’s not expecting that. “Huh?”
“You’re right, I do want to be your boyfriend. Partner. Significant other. Whatever label we prefer is good with me. I want to be in a committed relationship with you, and I want everyone to know it. But like you just said, you don’t see me as boyfriend material. Why not?”
“I…” He grimaces and looks away. “Come on, Eoin, don’t make me say it. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“I asked the question, Dáithí. I’m prepared for whatever answer you might give, and I’ll decide if it hurts me or not.”
With a big, unhappy sigh, he concedes, “Fine. I don’t trust that you really want a commitment. You’ve got thousands of years of dating history that points to you being a short-term fun guy, and there’s nothing wrong with that. You don’t need to try to be different now.”
“Are you saying I’m not capable of change?
Yeah, I’ve had a… varied love life.” Really varied, if I’m being honest. “But most of that happened when I was a soldier and had almost no stability in my life. Fuck, for the last few thousand years, we didn’t even think we’d survive.
I’ve got a steady job now, and a home that isn’t going to cease to exist. Who’s to say it’s not time for me to settle down? ”
“Who’s to say it is?” he counters. “You might want to give it a shot, but the Earth species have an expression for situations like this: A leopard doesn’t change its spots.”
What the fuck? Is he comparing me to a felid shifter? That makes no sense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Dáithí’s smile is sad. “You can’t change who you really are.”
Fury rises in me, destroying the clarity of mind I was so proud of.
“And who is it you think I am? Someone who’s incapable of making a promise and keeping it?
What do you think this past year has been, Dáithí?
We said we’d be monogamous, and I have been, happily.
Why do you think making things official between us would change that? ”
“I’m not saying you’d break a promise.” He grabs my hand, suddenly intense.
“Believe me, Eoin, I’d never say that. You’re one of the most honorable people I’ve ever met.
That’s why I’d never expect more from you.
Don’t you get it? Eventually, you’d realize a relationship isn’t what you want, but if you’d made a promise like this, you’d try to ride it out anyway.
It would be up to me to end things for both our sakes, and I’d rather do that now and still be friends than have my heart broken later.
” He stops suddenly, dropping my hand and looking away.
“So… you understand, don’t you? Why it’s best that we… ” Trailing off, he bites his lip.
My anger receded at some point during his passionate little speech, and now my brain is spinning through a thousand different ideas, trying to find the one that will change his mind.
One thing is very clear to me: This isn’t just about my feckless past. It’s not that he thinks I don’t have it in me to make a commitment, that I’ll deliberately break his heart.
Somehow, he’s gotten the idea that I’m physically incapable of wanting him for the long-term, as though my feelings for him will wear off eventually.
I can’t quite make sense of it, but it doesn’t seem like he actually wants to end things, only that he thinks he needs to in order to protect us both.
That’s some fucked-up bullshit, as my Earth friends like to say.
“I can’t predict the future,” I begin, glad that my voice is calm again. He jumps a little, like he wasn’t expecting me to speak.
“That’s not what I mean,” he protests. “Every relationship has a chance of ending, I know that. People change. But it would be stupid of me to go into something knowing that you’d need to change for it to have a chance.”
Ouch. “I don’t need to change for our relationship to have a chance. You’re wrong about who I am, Dáithí, and I want the chance to prove that to you.”
He shakes his head. “We’re right back where we started. I can’t—”
“Not by agreeing to make things official—not yet, anyway. Hear me out. You tell me what I can do to prove I’m not actually the serial dater my past points toward me being.
You can ask me any question you like, talk to my friends, my family—I’ll even give you the contact details of my past lovers, if you want.
Plus, if there’s a task or something that I can do to show you…
Maybe I could plant a garden? That’s a long-term commitment.
” I’m getting off track. “What I mean is, think about what you need from me that would make you feel secure in a relationship with me. There’s no time limit on this, so if you do want me to plant a garden and look after it for as long as it survives, I will. ”
That gets me a chuckle, and I consider it a win.
“I don’t know,” he says, but I can see the indecision in his eyes. “Testing you like that doesn’t seem fair.”
“Maybe it’s not, but we both need to be comfortable with this, Dáithí. You’ve been honest about your concerns, and I’m telling you I’m willing to do whatever it takes to relieve them.”
He looks me in the face, searching for something—sincerity, perhaps?—and then nods. “Okay.”
Yessss! “I have one more condition,” I add, because winning has always made me reckless, and why shouldn’t I push my luck?
“Oh?”
“While you’re thinking about how to test me, and for the duration of it, however long it is, we continue as we have been.”
An incredulous laugh bursts from him. “Seriously? You want to hang out and have sex like nothing’s different while I test if you measure up as commitment material?”
Damn, yes. He’s already admitted that he likes my company and the way I fuck, and I need every advantage I can get. “Yes.”
“You’ve got brass balls, Eoin.” He’s grinning now. “I’ve always liked that about you.”
“Oh yeah?” I raise a brow, almost giddy with relief. “Care to demonstrate how much you like my balls?”