Chapter 14
Eric
Unsteady breaths are all that keep me upright as I wait for Dmitri to respond.
I’ve said everything I have to say and laid bare every jagged piece of truth, and now the silence in the room presses down like a physical weight.
It stretches the space between us into miles and lifetimes instead of inches and feet.
He takes a cautious step forward, his face a raw canvas of pain as he closes the gap that’s kept us apart for years.
Stoic tears glisten on his sculpted cheekbones, suspended there as if he still has the strength to hold them back.
The wet trails tracking my own face are proof that I don’t.
My tears burn hot and relentless, carving silent paths down my cheeks while my chest heaves with the effort not to break completely.
“I need you to hear what I’m about to tell you,” Dmitri says as he inches another half step closer.
“I can’t undo what happened back then, but it was never my intention to hurt you.
That was the last thing I ever wanted. How I felt about you…
” He trails off and glances away, shaking his head with a quiet sniff.
“The way I wanted you was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
You have to know that. But I didn’t think it was in the cards for us, and I was doing my best to respect your wishes. When you pushed me away, I thought…”
“Thought what?” I probe after a few moments of silence.
“I thought you were too afraid to admit what it would mean to have feelings for me.”
“Afraid?” I ask indignantly. “Of course I was fucking afraid. My whole life, who I knew myself to be, was changing, and I was terrified. But I was willing to figure it out for you. And you left me.”
A strangled sound leaves his throat as he closes the distance and wraps his arms around me.
His body trembles and shakes, but he doesn't say a single word.
For long minutes, we hold each other in silence, our jagged breathing punctuated with abrupt inhales and shaky exhales.
When a warm tear passes from his cheek to mine, I squeeze tighter and nuzzle into his neck.
Slowly, one piece at a time, this armor I painstakingly crafted slips away and leaves my foolish heart carelessly unguarded. Years of burden fall to the ground, and the world isn’t quite so heavy.
It feels like coming home, like the time we spent apart has disappeared and I'm right where I belong.
His breath steadies and he pulls away, but when my gaze moves to his, I find his eyes hardened and his mouth drawn taut.
Angry.
“Dmitri?” I ask, confused.
He takes another step back, putting more space between us.
The emotion that was just on his face is missing, and he's harder than I've ever seen him. “I need time,” he says, his voice devoid of any warmth.
A wave of panic blasts through me as I frantically scan his face for answers, but find nothing. “Time?”
“Yes, time,” he snaps with a biting edge to his tone. “I was fucking crazy about you, Eric. Do you know how much it broke me when you pulled away? Do you have any idea how heartbroken I was? What I did?”
Indignation squares my shoulders as I stare at him, wild-eyed and outraged. “What the fuck do you mean, do I have any idea? Were you even listening to what I just told you? I was destroyed.”
He looks up at the ceiling with an irritated laugh, then drags his hand over his mouth as he shakes his head.
“So much time wasted. Fucking gone, when all you had to do was talk to me. If we had just had a goddamned conversation after it happened, we could’ve figured it out. We could have been something.”
“I tried to talk to you,” I snap back, “and you called me a regret. A fucking regret, Dmitri!”
“You knew me better than that,” he argues, “but instead of pushing for more, you decided on your own that you would make that decision for us both.”
“That’s not fair,” I snap, launching myself forward and jabbing my finger into his chest. “That is not fucking fair, and you know it.”
“Fair?” he bellows, grabbing my wrist and dragging me hard against him until our bodies collide. “What about this is fair? Seven fucking years of wondering what we could’ve been together. We don’t get that time back, Eric. We never get to see what might’ve been. It’s gone.”
I open my mouth to argue, but his lips crash into mine and nothing else exists.
Not the terrible decisions that tore us apart.
Not the years that stretched between that damning night and this morning.
His mouth slants over mine with punishing hunger, kissing me like he’s drowning and I’m the only air left in the world.
Teeth nip at my bottom lip, gentler than last time, but still sharp enough to sting.
Strong hands grip my jaw, fingers digging in just shy of pain, while mine fist in his hair and yank him closer.
Our tongues clash in a frantic back-and-forth fight for control, all our unresolved anger and hurt pouring into every stroke, bite, and desperate pull.
We’re trying to devour each other, to erase the lost time with sheer force.
It’s not enough, but we keep trying.
His other arm bands around my waist, yanking me flush until there’s no space left between us and I can feel every frantic beat of his heart slamming against mine. He kisses me like survival depends on it.
Like he’ll die if he doesn’t breathe my air and taste my lips.
He releases my jaw and lifts me onto the countertop with effortless strength, positioning himself between my knees.
The sudden shift steals my breath, and I revel in the grip of his hands firm on my hips.
My weight is nothing to him despite my size, and it awakens something raw and primal inside me.
Something that craves being thrown around, pinned down, and claimed.
Something that feels like the missing piece of me.
He tilts his head up as I angle down, shivering as his fingertips dance along my spine in slow, deliberate trails that leave goosebumps in their wake.
They wander forward, grazing my stomach, and I grin against his lips as the memory of last night’s desperate kisses floods back.
My back arches involuntarily as his hands move further around my front, exploring and teasing with agonizing patience.
When his fingers dip below my waistband, skimming the sensitive crease of my hips, his name leaves me in a low, broken moan.
Suddenly, he rips his mouth from mine.
His eyes are wide and wild as they scan my body, hand frozen on my hip, mere inches from where my cock strains against the front of my shorts.
My heart sinks as he puts deliberate distance between us, and the profound sense of loss crashes over me like a wave when his touch slips away.
His voice is full of gravel and regret, sounding like forfeited years and uncertain futures. “Give me time to process this, Eric.”
“But—”
“Please,” he begs, swallowing hard. “Please don’t ask me to come to you. Because I will, in a heartbeat. I’ll step right back between your legs, and I won’t leave. We’ll be on that bed in no time, and that’s not fair to either of us. You know it isn’t. Please… just let me go.”
“Go?” I breathe, desperation clouding my vision. “What do you mean, go? Over and over, you scream at me for running away, and who’s running now? I’m right here, Dmitri! Right in front of you, and you’re leaving?”
The pain in his eyes stops me cold. It's deep and raw, mirroring every fracture I’ve carried for years. Deep down, I know he’s right. We both need time to process the wreckage we’ve just unearthed.
And so, even though it kills me—even though it physically crushes my soul—I force myself to say, “Are you coming back?”
He nods, and a small portion of the panic releases its claws from my heart. “I’ll come back, I promise… I’ll always come back to you. Give me some time, that’s all I’m asking for. Can you do that for me?”
“Yes, but—”
“Just give me time,” he repeats, stepping into the living room and sliding his shoes on with shaking hands.
“Your truck—”
“I’ll take an Uber,” he mumbles, and a sharp pang shoots through my heart as he rushes to create distance between us. He’s already at the door, hand on the knob, when he turns to look at me.
I'm still sitting on the counter with a giant fucking tear threatening to spill from my eye, and all I can do is watch him walk away.
Another quiet, broken sound comes from his throat as he steps back, the sunlight hitting him as he makes it outside. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, before the door separates us once again.
Three days of silence later, I storm into practice. Dmitri isn’t here, his truck noticeably absent from the parking lot.
“You’re late, asshole,” Theo calls from around the corner, but today’s not the day, and I’m not in the mood.
The smile on his face disappears when he notices my fury. “Whoa, Eric, what’s up?”
I shoot a withering glare at Dante, who raises his eyebrow and makes his way toward us. Tai sits on the couch, watching this all go down with a curious expression.
“Do either of you care to fucking explain to me why you left Dmitri shitfaced drunk in a bar by himself?” I demand.
Dante must see the violence that boils under my skin, because his mouth tightens, and he places himself in front of Theo’s smaller body like a barrier. “Chill out, Eric,” he says as he throws his shoulders back.
“Answer my fucking question,” I snap back.
Theo ducks around Dante, gesturing wildly as he talks in a rush. “He told us he wasn't ready to go, so we just…”
“Left him?” I demand.
Dante scoffs and rolls his eyes. “He’s a big boy, Eric. He can make his own decisions.”
“Not when he’s blackout drunk, he can’t!” I shout, and both of them flinch.
Theo shakes his head and exchanges a glance with Dante before looking at me. “No, he wasn’t that far gone. He was acting like himself.”
Rage has my fists shaking at my sides as I remind myself that punching someone fixes nothing. “He doesn't drink. The bartender told me he’d had six shots in the two hours she’d been there. How many did he have before that?”
Dante’s lip tugs between his teeth. “A lot,” he mutters.
A snarl pulls at my mouth as my glare darts between them. “He couldn’t even fucking stand on his own. Could barely fucking talk. And when he woke up the next morning, he didn’t remember a goddamned thing. If I hadn’t gone to get him…”
“Bet you loved that, didn’t you?” Dante interrupts, once again pushing Theo behind him. “Playing the hero? Finally having an excuse to drag him into your bed? Wonder what else he doesn’t rem—”
Did I say punching someone wouldn’t fix anything?
Well.
His words are cut off by my fist slamming into his jaw with enough force to send him flying backwards into Theo. “I’ve always told you that mouth would get you into trouble one day,” I taunt as I step forward.
Dante wipes his mouth, glaring at me as he spits a bloody mouthful onto the concrete floor.
“Eric, please stop,” Theo begs from behind him with wide eyes.
A hand lands on my arm, and I whirl around to come face to face with Tai. “Come on, man, take a step back,” he says.
His calm presence clears the cloudy rage in my brain, and after a glance over my shoulder at Dante, I nod and let Tai lead me away. He doesn't release me until we’re outside, like he's afraid I'll run back for more. I slump against the wall, letting gravity take me as I slide to the ground.
Tai crouches beside me, his high ponytail casting a dark silhouette against the blinding sun. “Want to talk about it?”
I shake my head, toying with the small rocks on the asphalt beneath me to avoid looking at him. “Not particularly.”
“Fair enough,” he says as he settles next to me. Several long minutes go by in silence until I flex my hand with a grunt. Pain radiates through my knuckles, even though there are no open cuts. Purple and blue tones color my skin, though, and I’ll regret that decision tomorrow.
Tai takes my wrist and guides my hand in front of him. “Let me see,” he orders, and I obediently open my hand, flexing my fingers as he pokes around at my knuckles and joints. “You’ll want to ice that.”
“Yeah, figured,” I mutter.
“And you’re going to have to clear the air with Dante. The tour starts in a week, man. If the two of you are at each other’s throats, it’ll be a long six weeks on that bus.”
I nod with a disgruntled sigh. “Yeah, I figured that too.”
“You should listen to me more often,” Tai teases. “I'm usually right.”
A small smile ticks at my lips, momentarily masking my grumpiness.
I pull my hand back and an engine flares to life across the parking lot.
Dmitri’s eyes meet mine through the windshield of his truck, and I can't identify what's on his face as he stares at me.
His eyes dart to Tai before landing on mine again, but before I can walk over, his tires squeal and kick gravel as he drives away.
I stare at his brake lights as he flies onto the main road, and my anger comes back in droves.
Who’s running now, asshole?