Chapter 48 – Dylan
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
DYLAN
“Turn it off,” I murmur against his chest as he pulls me in tighter against him.
“This is my reality, Dylan. My choice. This is my life.” Make me your choice . “I’m so sorry.”
He doesn’t meet my eyes. He doesn’t see the devastation in mine. Instead, his lips find mine.
I taste the salt from my tears and beer on his lips as they slant over mine, and I welcome the taste. The comfort. The reassurance they provide that he is home now from his shift. Safe. Whole. Well.
I’m not sure how he knows this is what I need, but he does. Maybe he needs it too. I don’t know. All I know though is I’m devastated. For those firefighters’ families. For their brothers who had to rescue them. For me, because I know he’ll think my reaction proves what he’s said all along.
So I start the process of saying goodbye to him.
In soft sighs and sips of lips. In the slow intimate entanglement of my tongue with his. In the gentle thud of my heartbeat against his chest. In the quiet urgency of our hands as we slip our clothes off where we stand so we can feel each other’s skin one last time.
We come together, and there is no frenzy, only the need to connect, to memorize the feel of each other.
There are no fancy words. No dirty talk. No empty promises as we drink each other in. The feel of his dick sliding into me. Satisfying me. Marking me with his indelible touch. Worshipping me one last time.
It’s such a contrast from the times we’ve had sex before.
Maybe because this is so much more than simply sex.
It’s soft sighs and measured moans when it’s normally carnal groans and desperate demands.
It’s whispers of touch instead of the nails down his back free-for-all.
It’s silent words but screaming hearts.
It’s a goodbye not an invitation to stay.
And later, when I lie in his arms and hear his even breathing, I cry some more. Tears slide down my cheek and onto my pillow. For the man I do love but know I’ll never be able to tell. I can’t hurt him any more than he’s already been hurt. And telling him would hurt him . . . not because he doesn’t want it but because he can’t give it to me in return.
When dawn comes and the sky is as gray as I feel, I slide out of the bed and stare at Grady. There are no more words to be said. Everything was said when we made love last night.
Because yes, that was what we did. Grady may not be able to verbalize it, but what we shared was so much more than simply sex.
It was everything he can’t give me but wants to.
It was my goodbye.
With a sob, I lean over and press the most tender of kisses to Grady’s lips. “Goodbye, Grady Malone. I love you.”