Chapter Twenty-Seven
Eoin
Dáithí’s words hang between us. My eyes are locked on his face—is that fear?
Determination?—while I try to process them.
Is this… good? Bad? Does he want to call it off because he’s made his decision or because he’s realized it’s pointless for me to try to prove something he doesn’t want me to prove?
I was done worrying about the latter, but the fact that he actually called it the “Summit of Love,” a name he’s refused to use up until now, has shifted my worldview. Maybe I don’t have as good a grip on this situation as I thought.
As the silence lengthens, his expression morphs more strongly into fear, and I pull myself together.
“You want to call it off?”
He nods, then clears his throat. “Yes.”
“That’s your call to make, if you want it.” I choose my words carefully so I don’t break down and beg—at least, not until I know for certain that this means the end of us. “Why? That is… why now? I thought I was doing well.” I try not to hold my breath. It’s counterproductive to thinking fast.
To my dismay, that seems to make him more unhappy.
“It’s not that. You’re… amazing, frankly. You’ve been excelling at every task, but the thing is, you shouldn’t have to.” His voice cracks on the last words, and he stops to suck in air.
I don’t know what to say. He’s right; I shouldn’t have to. I don’t have to. This was my idea. I offered—insisted, in fact. There’s no obligation for me to be here, completing tasks, and we both know it. But that’s not what he means.
It’s incredibly clear to me now that when Ari said he thought Dáithí had been hurt, I should have acted.
I’d never force Dáithí to tell me something he didn’t want to, but I could have let him know what I suspected and that I was ready to support him however he needed.
Sometimes all people need is to know who’s safe to talk to.
He’s still staring at the floor, his jaw clenched, so I gather up the bunnies and stand slowly, then cross the room to settle them in the hutch, giving him a moment to settle his emotions. When I turn back, he’s watching me with unmistakable longing… and regret.
My stomach sinks.
“Eoin,” he whispers, but I seize my chance, returning to sit beside him. If distance makes it easier for him to end us, I’m not leaving his side the whole time he’s speaking.
“You haven’t forced me to do anything,” I remind him gently, and he grimaces.
“That only makes it worse. Healthy relationships don’t start like this, Eoin.
We’re both old enough to understand that—to know better.
I never should have agreed to a challenge.
You don’t deserve to be tested when you haven’t done anything to make me doubt you.
” He shakes his head. “You don’t deserve to be tested at all.
This was… wrong, and I’m sorry I put you through it. ”
I take a moment to consider what he’s said and what he hasn’t. I don’t think he wants to break up, but guilt is clouding his judgment. “Why did you agree? If you’d stuck to your guns, we would have been over weeks ago.”
“Yeah.” He smiles sadly. “That’s why I agreed. I didn’t… I don’t want us to be over, Eoin. I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone in my life. More than I will ever love anyone else. If I think about waking up to a day where you’re not in my life, it makes me not want to wake up that day.”
Fear clutches me, but I ignore it. He’s not in danger. “I’m here for all the days you want me to be.”
Finally, he lifts his attention to me. “I’m so afraid.”
“Of me?”
“No. Never. But yes.” He pulls a face. “I’m doing this badly.”
“You’re fine. This has been worrying you.”
“Yes. I tried to keep it from you, but that didn’t work. So in the end, we both worried when I should have just…” He trails off with a restless gesture. “Some things aren’t easy to talk about. Especially when telling you might hurt you. Especially when they’re stupid and unjustified.”
Now we’re getting to the heart of things. “You’re mad at yourself. I never thought the day would come where you said emotions were stupid,” I tease, and miracle of miracles, I win a tiny smile.
“Neither did I,” he admits. “But right now, it’s so hard not to feel that way.
I-I’ve said some unforgiveable things to you recently.
You’re an adult and you know your own mind and feelings.
You know what you want from life. Questioning that and forcing you to prove something you should never have to prove when I should have just trusted you…
that’s unforgiveable, and I’m so sorry.”
I wait a beat to make sure he’s finished.
“Don’t you think I’m the one who gets to decide what I can forgive?
Just like I’m the one who wanted the chance to prove myself.
I appreciate the apology—deeply and sincerely, I do—and I’m glad you agree that you should have trusted me, but I could have walked away then, and I didn’t.
I wanted to fight for us in the only way left to me, and I’m not sorry I did. ”
His eyes get wet, but before he can look away, I catch hold of his chin.
“I love you, too, you know. So much that it’s bursting from me.
So much that I would happily do anything you needed of me.
I’ll say it again, Dáithí—I’m in your life for as long as you want me.
If that means we face some hurdles while you work through your fears, I’m here for it. ”
A sob bursts from him, but the tears don’t fall. “I’m afraid,” he whispers. “I shouldn’t be, but I am.”
“‘Should’ isn’t a word that applies to emotions,” I tell him. “You’re allowed to feel things, even if they’re not logical. What scares you? What do you need from me?”
He lets out a shaky breath. “It pisses me off that you’re being perfect right now and I’m… this.” He waves at himself. “An emotional mess.”
Startled, I cough to cover the laugh that wants to escape. “I’m not—actually, I’ll take that. I’m perfect.”
His elbow makes contact with my side, but not hard. “You’re supposed to say I’m not a mess. The perfect score just went down.”
This time I don’t bother to hide my chuckle. “Baby, you’re the most perfect person alive, including when you’re a mess. I love your mess and your emotions. They’re part of the whole package that’s you.”
The depth of love shining in his wet, wide eyes reassures me that we’re going to be okay.
“When I was young, I trusted the wrong person, and he broke my heart,” he blurts, then blows out a breath.
I resist the impulse to demand who so I can race out to find the bastard and deliver him to Dáithí in chains.
“It’s not… The story isn’t anything special.
That’s basically it. Logically, there’s no reason for it to still be affecting my life thousands of years later. ”
“Logically, there’s no reason for emotions at all,” I point out. “But I wouldn’t want to give mine up, even when they hurt. The dark moments make the sunshine ones so much sweeter.”
He peers at me suspiciously. “You’re thinking about that kids’ movie, aren’t you? The one where all the emotions are people living in human brains?”
“Maybe.” It’s lived rent-free in my head since I first watched it.
Caolan suggested it after I complained that understanding how kids’ brains work is too hard.
Raeulfr visits with children a lot in his role as our leader, which means I have a lot of contact with them, too, but that never made it any easier.
“The point is, I’m not judging you for still managing the aftereffects of something that hurt you deeply.
Do you want to tell me the whole story? You don’t have to. ”
“I know.” He gives a little sigh, then leans against me, voluntarily touching me for the first time since this conversation began. “I think I want to, though.”
A little more of the tension inside me eases. I put my arm around him and give him a little squeeze.
But as he speaks, the tension comes back.
He’s right that his story isn’t anything uncommon, but that doesn’t make what happened okay.
He may have been an adult at the time, he may have willingly consented to the relationship and all it entailed—except being cheated on—but it’s still clear to me that he was gaslighted by a predator.
Alan saw something he wanted, was denied it, and then made it his mission to get it anyway on his own terms, whether Dáithí knew about those terms or not.
Worse, though, is that when he didn’t want it anymore, he went out of his way to do as much harm as he could.
I wait until he’s finished. “May I hold you?”
The words are barely out of my mouth before he’s crawling halfway into my lap, my arms closing around him instinctively as he lays his head on my shoulder. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, but I just give him a squeeze.
“There’s nothing to be sorry about, baby. I’m… I ache for the pain and insecurity you’ve been carrying all this time, but I can’t say I’m not a little relieved too.”
He lifts his head, his face now so close to mine. “Relieved?”
“That your hesitation isn’t about me. It’s not that you don’t want to commit to me.”
“No, but also… I didn’t trust that you weren’t like him.” His lips tremble, but he firms them almost immediately.
“That’s true,” and it stings, I can’t lie.
“You acted based on past experience. That’s completely understandable—we all do it.
Even at work, it’s standard in most industries to base plans on past results.
It’s how you respond to live results that matters, and Dáithí, you’re apologizing to me right now and calling off the Summit of Love because you know you were wrong. That’s what’s most important.”
He puts his head back down. “I was wrong. I just wish I hadn’t had to put you through all this to admit it.”
Kissing his hair, I ask, “Are you still scared?”
His silence tells me what I need to know.
“It’s okay if you are, baby. I am too, a little.”
“You are?” It’s barely a whisper, and I lean my head against his.
“Yeah. There are a lot of ways either or both of us can fuck things up, or that life can. We’ve been through enough to know nothing comes with a guarantee, and it terrifies me that something might happen to you.”
Dáithí’s hand creeps up my body and cups my cheek. “But you want to do this—us—anyway?”
“More than anything.”
We sit for a moment, both breathing shakily.
“Me too.”
The weakness that overtakes me proves I wasn’t as sure of him as I thought I was, but that doesn’t matter now. I lift my head, and when he straightens to look at me, I study his face. It’s tear-streaked and flushed, but the determination and love in his eyes are balm to my soul.
“I can call you my boyfriend now?” I check.
He nods and leans forward to kiss me. “Boyfriend, partner, significant other… whatever will tell the world that we belong to each other.”
The grin that breaks out on my face is so wide, it hurts.