Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-five
DAVE
It took every last bit of strength Dave possessed not to pull Christian close and reassure him that they were okay.
He knew now that would just be pressing the reset button.
If nothing changed, the same thing would happen over and over again.
Christian would push and Dave would let him, but his resentment would grow until it boiled over, leaving himself raw and remorseful, and Christian hurt and confused.
Christian’s words had brought Dave face to face with the unpalatable truth—Christian didn’t know why he was upset.
Because Dave hadn’t told him.
Dave hadn’t told him anything that had been going on in his head. He’d longed for Christian to see it for himself, but he hadn’t given him anything to go off other than silence and strained smiles.
He needed to say this, but it terrified him. Making demands, making himself difficult to be around—it never ended well. But he knew he had to try. For both their sakes.
He tightened his hand on Christian’s arm, willing him to feel their connection.
“I never tell you what I want. I need to change that, I know I do.” He forced the words out, his throat tight, and then he paused, because the next bit?
What he wanted more than anything? That was what would send Christian running from him.
He drew in a breath that sobbed slightly, and made himself say it.
“I wish you’d think about me and try to work it out anyway. I don’t want to live here. But the thing that scares me most is that you don’t know that—or worse, you do, and you don’t care.”
Christian was rigid beneath his touch. It was only the certain knowledge Christian would never hurt him that gave Dave the courage to keep his hand wrapped around that thick bicep as he waited for Christian to push to his feet and walk away.
“You really think I don’t care?” Christian’s breathing was ragged, his voice hoarse.
“I don’t know, Christian—you’ve never told me.”
And maybe that was unfair when Christian did the best he could, but Dave was sick of always being the reasonable one. The one doing the emotional labor.
Christian lowered his head, his hair curtaining his face from Dave’s gaze. “I love you.” His voice was deep and raw, and it sounded as if every word hurt him. “I love you like nothing else in this world, Dave Mitchell.”
Something in Dave curled up and died. This wasn’t the joyous declaration he’d hoped for all these years. It wasn’t even a declaration—it was a confession, wrenched from him in pain. Christian sounded like he’d been forced to name the very thing that might destroy him.
Dave couldn’t speak. This wasn’t how love was supposed to sound. But maybe for Christian, love had always come wrapped in pain. Maybe this was him trying, in the only language he had.
Christian’s head came up, and his gaze fixed on Dave’s. “I don’t know how to do this.” His voice was rough and broken, like the look in his eyes. “I don’t understand what you want from me, but whatever it is, you’ve got it. Just tell me.”
Dave’s throat was raw with the effort of staying quiet. Because he could feel it—that Christian was right on the edge of something. And he didn’t want to rescue him from it. Not this time.
Christian dropped his gaze, his fists curling in his lap.
“I saw you with someone else. And—I don’t know. Something in me just...” He shook his head, jaw working. “I thought you were done with me. Or that maybe you should be. That he’d be easier. Better. So I pushed. Said shit I didn’t mean, just to get it over with.”
His breath came short. “I didn’t think. I just—panicked, I guess. I didn’t believe it, not really, I just couldn’t stand waiting to be left.”
He looked up again, shame etched deep across every inch of his face. “I know I hurt you. And I hate that. Because you’re—” His voice wavered. “You’re the one person I never want to hurt.”
Dave’s heart clenched. Christian hadn’t handed him a neat apology, something smooth and polished yet maybe too easy. Instead, he’d peeled himself open with shaking hands and laid the mess between them, hoping it would be enough. He’d offered himself, unreservedly. And Dave had never loved him more.
“Come here.” He tugged him, and Christian came, balancing himself on his knees either side of Dave’s outstretched legs and letting himself be pulled close. Pressed together like this, he could feel how fast and unevenly Christian’s heart was beating.
“I love you,” he murmured, hand cradling Christian’s head and his thumb gently stroking the shell of his ear. “Love you so much, and I swear from now on I’ll do better. I’ll tell you what I want, what I need.”
Because it was scary, so very scary to think of, but if Christian had found the courage to offer himself so completely, Dave could do this.
“God, I love you,” he said again, his arms tightening around Christian and his eyes stinging as he remembered all over again just how much.
And if there was the suspicion of a hitch in Christian’s breathing as he pressed closer, Dave would never mention it to a soul.
CHRISTIAN
It felt like he was broken open, all defenses gone.
Like he was that kid again, the one who couldn’t do anything to protect himself.
He’d sworn never to let himself be vulnerable ever again.
But it wasn’t the same this time, he realized as Dave held him, his heartbeat steady and reassuring. He wasn’t alone anymore.
He was shaking a little, an occasional tremor down his arms and through his ribs, like his body didn’t quite know how to cope with everything he’d just let out. His breath stuttered once, then again, and he pressed closer, hiding his face against Dave’s shoulder until the worst of it passed.
He had no idea how long they stayed like that. Time didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except them.
Finally, he drew back slightly to see Dave, to see his soft smile and the steadiness in his eyes as he looked back at Christian.
“I love you,” Christian said again, and somehow the words felt right this time.
When he saw the joy and warmth that dawned on Dave’s face, he didn’t know why he hadn’t said them before. But along with that look, his face also had a damn nasty bruise and painful-looking scrapes.
That was when Christian remembered, and he reluctantly drew back and climbed off his Dave-shaped cushion.
“Where are you hurt?” he asked, eyes quartering Dave suspiciously. Because now his brain was working again, he realized Dave hadn’t moved once during their whole conversation. As he looked further, there was a dark patch in his hair that was more than just the deepening shadows would account for.
“My ankle,” Dave said. “I think it’s busted.”
“What happened?” Christian knelt next to Dave’s leg and started to turn up the hem of his jeans so he could see what lay beneath.
“Missed my footing—fuck.” Dave curled almost in half, fighting for breath as Christian touched him.
Christian’s hands were better suited to fighting than gentleness, but he did the best he could. “You can feel that?” he asked as he explored Dave’s foot through his boot.
“Yeah.” Dave’s voice was tight and bitten off, his breathing uneven.
“That’s good,” Christian said. “Means the blood’s still getting around.” He carefully rolled the leg of his jeans back down. Dave was pale and hunched. “You think you can walk on it, if I help?”
Dave shook his head. “Hurts like hell,” he said. “I was hoping it’ll be better tomorrow morning if I can sleep tonight.”
“Yeah, well, with that bump on your head you probably shouldn’t sleep too much.” Christian moved to peer into his eyes, checking for equal pupil size in the little daylight that remained. “Feel sick? Dizzy?”
“No. I did earlier, but not now.”
“Maybe you already worked through a concussion with your healing,” Christian said. It was possible, but he’d rather not have to rely on his judgment, because what if he was wrong?
He settled next to Dave and leaned into him, hoping that the heat of his body would be comforting. He’d shift later, he decided, so he could lie over Dave and keep him from getting too cold.
“I’m glad you’re here,” Dave murmured.
Warmth swept over Christian that had nothing to do with the temperature of the air around them. “Me too,” he said.
And then Dave stiffened. “Aren’t you supposed to be fighting tonight?”
Christian shrugged slightly and pressed closer to Dave. He’d realized when he’d gotten to the three-mile marker that he either had to go back to the cannery if he was to make it in time, or continue on to find Dave. He hadn’t even hesitated.
“This is more important,” he said. “You’re more important.”
God, now that he’d said one sappy thing, it was like the floodgates were open and fuck knew what he’d say next. But if it got Dave’s hand turning his face toward him and a gentle kiss on his lips, he wouldn’t complain. Especially when that gentle kiss contained a hint of tongue.
“Definitely more important,” he said, when Dave drew back.
That got him pulled carefully onto Dave’s lap and then he was leaning down and kissing Dave, tender and deep.
Something was different, and for an instant, Christian wasn’t sure about this—it felt as if there were no barriers between them, an openness that had him wanting to do something about it to protect himself.
But as Dave made happy little turned-on noises in the back of his throat, he couldn’t hold on to why he was worried.
By the time they finally stopped kissing, the half-moon was rising and the stars were beginning to come out. It was pretty dark up here, so much so they could hardly see one another. That was probably a good thing because what Dave said next made it clear he still wasn’t done talking.
“I guess we should talk about what we do next.”
Christian wriggled slightly on his lap, hoping that would distract Dave from this whole talking thing. It got him a light slap on his ass, which at another time might have been nice. As it was, it was clear Dave wasn’t to be distracted, damn it.