21. Harlan
21
HARLAN
“ S o, what now?” Reid asks, his sky-blue eyes locked on me, his free hand resting on my hip as the other remains tangled with mine.
“Your uncle offered me a job,”—I swallow hard—“but I told him I’d only accept it if you gave me another chance, if you thought you could forgive me. If you want me to stay.”
“No pressure,” he murmurs and I chuckle, but it’s pained, my body strung tight at the possibility that I’d ruined us before we even started.
“You love this place more than anything, and I won’t ruin that. I?—”
“You’re already everywhere, Harlan.” The words are even, his inflection not giving anything away, so I brace myself. My heart stutters in my chest, the hurt unbearable as I wait for the final blow because I did this to us. And I won’t make it worse by staying. “You belong here.”
“Reid,” his name comes out on a choked sob, my own tears leaking from my eyes, and I can’t stop them.
You belong here.
Have I ever belonged anywhere?
“Hey, it’s okay, shh.” Reid’s hands cup my jaw, his lips peppering kisses all over my face, as I stand broken and put back together all at once before him. “Don’t cry; I want you to stay,” he says without stopping. “I want you to call me Christmas and I want to fall asleep in your arms and I want you to pretend you’re not a morning person when you totally are.”
“You made me fall in love with you,” I rasp, making him pull back and narrow his eyes.
“Made you, huh? That’s what every guy wants to hear.”
“You did,” I say, my voice stronger. “Because you wanted me when I didn’t want myself. When I’d given up hope on finding happiness—of allowing myself to indulge in more than just a physical release.” Reid scrunches up his nose and I grin, pressing my mouth to his until he melts into me, and I can kiss him like I want to—with tongue and teeth and all the things that I never thought I’d have again.
“No more talking about orgasms with other people,” he pants. “Those are mine.”
“You don’t have to worry.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, Reid, I’m sure.”
“But how?—”
I crush my mouth to his, if only to get him to stop talking. “Because I love you. And you made every moment of my past worth it because I get to be here now. With you.”
“I don’t know if I like this non-grumpy version of you,” he muses, but I can only smile and pull him close because even though it’s only been hours since we were in bed, an entire lifetime has passed where I didn’t know if I’d ever have this again.
“I can still be grumpy if you want.” Sliding my hands down to cup his ass, I squeeze, and he whimpers.
“Only sometimes.”
“Anything you want.”
“I think being loved by you is more than enough.”
“And the dirty talk,” I add, making him blush. “Can’t forget that.”
“I do love that,” he says coyly before threading his fingers in my hair and pulling me down for a sweet kiss. “But I love you the most.”
“That’s the best present I’ve ever gotten, Christmas.”
“Me too, Mr. Frost, me too.”