Chapter 17 #6
“Then I’m not going anywhere,” I said, and meant it so hard it almost scared me. “Not unless you tell me to.”
He breathed out, relief shifting his whole face like a weight had finally slid off his shoulders.
He leaned in and kissed the corner of my mouth—small, sweet, like he couldn’t help himself. “I don’t think I could make you do anything, Alpha.”
Michael’s smile lingered, but his gaze flicked over my face again—reading me, the way he always did.
“Was that…” I paused, then forced it out. “Was that your first time with a guy?”
Michael blinked once. Then he exhaled slowly, like he’d been holding his breath without noticing.
“No,” he said. “Not my first time.”
Something in my chest loosened…and something else tightened, quick and sharp.
I hated that reflex. Hated the part of me that wanted to turn it into a problem before it even existed.
Michael’s eyes narrowed, catching it instantly. “Daniel.”
“I’m not—” I started, then stopped because the lie tasted stupid. “I just didn’t know.”
“I know.” His fingers resumed their circles, slower now, grounding. “It’s a fair question.”
I stared at him, trying to read the line between calm and guarded. “Okay. So… you’re—”
“Bi,” he said, like the word didn’t carry any shame in it. Like it was just a fact, like the color of his eyes. “I’ve been bi.”
My breath caught, soft and quiet. “Did Anna know?”
Michael’s mouth twitched—half smile, half something tender that made my ribs ache. “Yeah. She knew.”
“From the start?”
“From the beginning,” he confirmed. He shifted, propping his head on his hand so he could look at me properly. “She clocked me in, like… a week.”
I huffed a laugh. “Of course she did.”
Michael smiled, warmer now. “She did that thing where she pretended it was casual, but it wasn’t. Like she was collecting information and deciding what to do with it.”
“That is exactly what she did,” I muttered, and my chest pinched with the memory of her.
Michael’s gaze softened. “We were sitting on the porch one night. She asked me something completely normal—like if I wanted more iced tea—and then she just… looked at me for a long second and went, ‘You don’t look at men the way straight men look at men.’”
I barked a laugh, surprised and a little wrecked by it.
“Yeah,” Michael said, grinning. “I almost choked. And I did that whole stupid thing where I tried to deny it. Like she hadn’t known me for years.”
“What did she say?”
Michael’s smile went quiet at the edges. “She said, ‘Good. I’m glad you can admit that to yourself. The world doesn’t get to take more from you than it already has.’”
My throat went tight.
Because that sounded like Claire. That sounded like my wife, fierce and stubborn and incapable of leaving people alone when she knew they were hurting.
Michael reached up and brushed his thumb across my jaw, slow. “She didn’t make it weird. She didn’t make it a confession. She just… held it like it was mine to carry, not hers to judge.”
I swallowed hard. “And you… you were with men before.”
Michael nodded once. “A couple times. Nothing serious.” He hesitated, then added, gentler, “It wasn’t like this.”
That hit me in the sternum.
I stared at him, trying to act like my heart hadn’t just tripped over itself. “Like this how?”
Michael’s eyes flicked down to my mouth, then back up. His expression was open, unguarded in a way that still caught me off balance.
“Like this is… real,” he said quietly. “Like I’m not just blowing off steam or proving something to myself. Like I’m here. With you. On purpose.”
My lungs felt too tight. “Michael.”
“What?” His smile turned faintly smug, like he could tell he’d landed the hit. “You asked.”
I let out a rough breath and dragged him closer without thinking, forehead nearly touching his. “I’m trying not to mess this up.”
Michael snorted. “Daniel, we just had sex for the first time and you’re already looking for paperwork to file it under.”
“It’s not paperwork,” I muttered.
“It’s paperwork,” he insisted. “Your brain is so obsessed with doing the right thing it forgets you’re allowed to just… feel things.”
I didn’t have a good comeback for that.
Because it was true.
I shifted, pulling him tighter against me, making sure he was warm. Making sure he was here. “You okay?” I asked, softer.
Michael’s expression gentled. “Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.” He brushed his lips against mine, quick and sure. “I’m more than okay.”
I huffed a laugh, relief making my whole body feel lighter. “Good.”
“Also,” he added, eyes bright, “for the record—”
I lifted a brow. “Oh, here we go.”
Michael grinned. “You’re not as intimidating as you think you are.”
I made a sound of offense. “Excuse me?”
“You do this whole Alpha stare thing,” he said, tapping my chest like he was claiming territory, “and then you ask me if I’m okay like I’m going to break.”
“I wasn’t—”
“You were,” he said, smug. “It’s cute.”
“I’m not cute.”
Michael’s smile widened. “You’re extremely cute. Which is going to be very inconvenient for you, because now I’m going to say it all the time.”
I tried to glare. It didn’t work. Not with him this close, his body still warm against mine, his voice soft like he had nowhere else he’d rather be.
“You’re ridiculous,” I muttered.
“I’m practical,” he shot back. “And I’m telling you the truth.”
My chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t fear. It was something steadier. Something that felt like a hand on my spine.
I stared at him for a long moment, letting myself actually take it in. The fact that he wasn’t running. That he wasn’t flinching. That he wasn’t making me pay for wanting him.
“I don’t want to lose this,” I admitted, because honesty was easier now that we’d already crossed the line.
Michael’s expression softened, something tender flickering across his face. He reached up, cupped the back of my neck, and pulled me close until our foreheads touched.
“You won’t,” he said simply. “Not because you asked a question.”
My eyes burned, which was annoying as hell. I blinked hard and pretended it was the light.
Michael pressed a slow kiss to my temple, then settled back against me like he’d decided this was where he belonged.