Chapter 23
Cain
Through all our ups and downs…in all the time we’ve spent together, and in all the years we’ve spent apart…the word love has never been spoken between us. Not as a request, a demand, or even a declaration.
So, hearing it now from Patrick’s mouth is jarring.
I’ve never really understood what those words meant. I’ve heard people say them to each other and then stab one another in the back. I’ve heard them uttered in the dark only to be denied in the light. Saying those words is as empty and meaningless as singing the ABCs.
It takes too long to process his words, his admission, and by the time I realize I want him to stay so we can talk about this, he’s already gone.
I race out of the house to find him frantically patting his pockets, no doubt in search of his car keys.
Wasting no time, I walk right up to him, spin him around, and slam his back against the door of the SUV. Clamping a hand around the back of his neck, I pull his mouth to mine as the first drops of rain begin to fall around us.
His hands encircle me as a noise that sounds suspiciously like a sob tears from his throat.
“Come back inside,” I command, pulling my lips away to really get a good look at Patrick Miller.
The losses of his life are visible in his frown lines and crows’ feet, but he’s no less beautiful to me now than he was when we were twenty.
His hair is still thick, albeit matted to his head, thanks to the rain.
His cheeks are flushed, and he’s staring at my lips, purposely avoiding my eyes as droplets of rain cling to his eyelashes.
I’ll admit I’ve always been a selfish lover, but never so selfish that I didn’t take care of my partner.
Hell, making them lose their minds with need was half the fun for me.
But I never stuck around long enough to allow emotions to become involved.
Except, standing here in the rain, watching Patrick unravel has made me aware that there are emotions involved, and there have been from the start.
“Please, just let me go,” he begs in that familiar deep voice. He closes his eyes, and the water from his lashes cascades down his cheeks, making them look like tears.
Leaning forward, I lick them from his skin, and a burst of salt lands on my tongue, telling me they are tears.
“I can’t,” I admit, only realizing it’s true as the words leave my mouth.
Patrick’s forehead falls onto my shoulder, and I absolutely hate the way it feels like he’s giving up.
What reason have I given him to continue? I silently wonder.
“It feels worse this time,” he says, picking his head up. He leans backward onto the side of the car and slides down until his ass hits the wet pavement, rubbing a hand across his chest as though his heart hurts or it’s hard to breathe.
“What does?”
“Leaving you.”
“Then don’t,” I say, squatting down to his eye level, suddenly and painfully aware of just how much I mean it.
He cuts his eyes to me in the darkness as the rain continues beating down on us.
“I have to. I can’t live like this. With every interaction, I get sucked in more deeply.
Another tether wraps itself around me, keeping me wanting you, needing you, just like always.
I’ll be fifty years old in a few years, Cain, and I still don’t know how to get over you.
I’m still a lovesick teenager.” There’s that word again.
“But it’s worse, because I should fucking know better by now. ”
It’s not particularly cold outside, but Patrick’s teeth begin to chatter. Most likely a combination of being wet and an emotional overload. His system is shorting out.
“Come on, Kitten,” I say gently, “Let’s go inside, dry off, and finish talking in bed.”
His head snaps to me.
“Didn’t you listen to anything I said? I’m not staying the night,” he says, starting to get angry.
“Well, you’re not driving back to your hotel in this condition, so what do you propose we do?” I fire, gripping his arms and yanking him to a standing position.
“You can’t just manhandle me because you don’t like the answer I gave!” he booms, pushing against my chest.
I wrap my hand around his throat and cup his balls aggressively through his thin slacks, my face an inch from him.
“I can manhandle you, and I will because you are mine. You always have been. You always will be. And maybe it’s time we both accepted it.”
Patrick stops fighting me and blinks at me through the rain.
“What are you saying?” he asks hesitantly.
What am I saying?
“I don’t fully know yet,” I tell him honestly. “But I know I don’t want you to leave.”
Sighing in defeat because Patrick has never been good at telling me no, he allows me to pull him back inside the house.
I take my time peeling his wet clothes off his body before doing the same to my own, letting them land with a soggy plop on the tile floor of the laundry room before taking his hand and leading him back to my bedroom.
He pauses outside the doorway.
“We’re going to sleep,” I tell him. “It’s almost three o’clock in the morning. Not only do we both have to work tomorrow, but we have to work together. Why don’t we start tonight?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I’ll sleep better if he’s with me, but I know those words will mean everything to him, and I need to make sure they mean something to me before I allow them to hang in the space between us.
Patrick climbs onto my bed and slides under the covers.
“My phone was in my pants pocket. Do me a favor and set an alarm for six. I’ll need to swing by the hotel and change in the morning.”
He rolls to his side, turning away from me, but at least he’s in my bed.