Chapter Twenty-Five
Twenty-Five
Cyrus
I was lying next to an angel.
In sleep, Reece’s normally stern expression was calm and serene. There was no wrinkle in his brow, no tic in his jaw. His red hair was a wild mess, catching the morning sun as it streamed through the window.
He was breathtaking.
“Do you want to keep staring at me or do you want to get up?” Reece grumbled with his eyes still closed. His already deep voice had more of a gravelly base first thing in the morning, one that made my tentacles curl.
“I was just enjoying the view.”
His deep green eyes popped open, and before I knew what was happening, he rolled on top of me and straddled my waist. He braced himself on one hand and reached down with the other to cup my face, gently stroking his thumb over my cheek.
What I would give to wake up to him like this every day.
“Morning, Cy,” he said, leaning closer, until his face hovered over mine.
I ran my hands up his chest, feeling the prickle of his hair regrowth under my fingers. “Good morning, darling. Did you sleep well?”
I knew the answer was yes. He was out the moment his head touched the pillow, and I didn’t feel him move at all through the night. For the longest time, I’d just lain there next to him, watching the moonlight cast shadows on his handsome face.
“I slept great.” He gave me a little peck on the lips before he rolled off me, and I frowned at the loss.
“Where are you going?” I asked, sitting up in bed.
With his back turned to me, he stretched toward the ceiling, making his muscles flex. He was so stunning, I had to remind myself to breathe.
“To make coffee,” he said matter-of-factly, and sauntered to the tiny kitchen.
While Reece started the coffeepot, I shuffled into the bathroom to do my business. When I came out, he was standing at the stove—still shirtless—with a spatula in his hand. The familiar scent of bacon filled the air, the grease cracking and popping in the pan.
“Are you cooking bacon without a shirt on?” I mean, I did it all the time, but it was one of those “do as I say, not as I do” sorts of things.
He shrugged. “I didn’t want to start with the eggs because I wasn’t sure how you liked them.”
I came up behind him, wrapped my arms around his waist, and kissed his neck, feeling his fresh stubble grate against my face.
A soft hum worked its way out of his throat, and he tipped his head to the side, melting into me. “There’s coffee in the pot for you.”
“Thank you,” I said, pecking him on the cheek before making my way over to pour a cup.
A mug was next to the machine as well as hazelnut coffee creamer.
My favorite flavor. He must have been paying attention when we ordered at the Busy Bean.
The machine was still brewing, but there was just enough in the carafe for a cup.
For a caffeine fiend like Reece to offer me the first cup of coffee was almost like an admission of his feelings for me.
“You didn’t have to do all this,” I whispered. Once again, I was feeling touched to the point of overwhelm by all of my mate’s kind gestures.
“How many times do I have to tell you? I know I don’t have to. I do it because I want to.”
I made my coffee and sat down at the tiny kitchen table.
Reece peered over his shoulder at me. “You never did tell me how you’d like your eggs.”
“Oh, over easy, please.”
He scrunched up his nose.
“What’s that look for?” I asked with a laugh.
“Over easy grosses me out. Why would I want my eggs all wet and drippy?”
“Have you ever tried it?” I didn’t know everything about Reece, but he could be quite—particular.
“Nope, and I don’t plan to.” He cracked two eggs in the pan and quietly stared at them for a moment before he finally said, “Over easy was how my old man liked his eggs.”
Well, that explained part of his aversion to them.
“How do you like your eggs?” I asked.
“Scrambled or in an omelet.” So, very much the opposite of wet and drippy.
“What kind of omelet?”
“Western.” He popped two pieces of bread into the toaster, then leaned against the counter to look at me. “I, uh, I liked sleeping in bed with you,” he said, rubbing one hand over his bed head.
I grinned, feeling like my hearts were going to explode over how adorable he was being. “I liked it, too.”
“I—I wish it was something we could do more often,” he admitted. The slightest hint of pink rushed up his neck to his cheeks.
“Me, too, but we don’t have to rush things.”
He crossed his arms over his chest, his fingers gently drumming against his biceps. “After the triathlon, I want to tell Tegan.”
I was taking a sip of my coffee, and I almost spit it out all over the seashell-patterned tablecloth. “Oh?” I choked out.
He glanced down at the floor for a second before giving me this sweet, shy, hopeful look. “I mean, if that’s okay with you.”
“Of course it’s okay with me,” I rushed to say. I didn’t want him to feel pressured, but it was hard to temper my excitement.
“I appreciate you being so patient with me. I know I’m asking a lot of you.”
Little did he know, he could ask me for anything, and I’d happily comply. I’d follow him to the ends of the earth. I’d wait forever if he asked me to.
“It’s no problem at all.”
The toast sprang out of the toaster and Reece whipped around to plate my food.
“Here you go,” he said, setting it in front of me.
He made himself a cup of coffee and joined me at the table.
I stared at my plate and then at the empty space in front of him. “Aren’t you going to eat?”
He shook his head. “I’m going to go for a run on the beach this morning, so I’ll eat when I’m done.”
“I hate that you went through all this trouble just to make me breakfast.”
“Cyrus, I wanted to do this for you. This is what—” He stopped mid-sentence, pursing his mustache over his lower lip. I was on the edge of my seat, waiting for some type of admission. A label. Clarification on exactly what this was.
But I wasn’t getting it. At least not today.
“I just wanted to, okay?” he huffed.
“Well, I appreciate it.” I cut up my food and started to eat. It was your usual breakfast fare, but everything had been cooked well.
Reece stared at me intently, letting me have a taste of my own medicine. It was sweet that he was sitting there waiting for my approval.
“Good?” he asked.
“Even better because you made it for me.”
—
After I’d finished my breakfast and coated Reece with enough sunscreen to protect an entire family, we made our way down to the beach.
“Are you going to be gone awhile?” I asked.
“Nah. I’m going to do a quick jog to get my heart rate up, and then we can swim.”
“Okay.”
He stepped closer and grabbed my waist with one hand and cupped the back of my head with the other, then pressed his lips to mine in a passionate kiss.
I was reveling in these moments. The ones where we could be out in the open without a care in the world.
“I’ll see ya in a bit,” he said breathlessly. His chest was already heaving, and he hadn’t even started his run yet.
“See ya in a bit.”
Reece walked toward the water, down to the soft, shell-free sand where the waves met the shore. He gave me a little wave, then jogged off down the beach. With each of his footfalls, his muscles bulged and flexed, propelling him across the sand like it was nothing.
I imagine this was how he felt when he watched me swim.
I settled into the sand and pulled my pencils and sketchbook out of my bag.
What started out as a warm-up sketch of my muse quickly evolved into a series of vignettes that covered entire pages.
Reece’s sleeping face with each delicate eyelash fanning out over his cheeks.
The broad expanse of his back as he stretched.
His head tipped back with a genuine laugh, and another with his grumpy walrus scowl.
The crash of the waves and the seagull squawks off in the distance were the perfect ambient soundtrack while I lost myself in the task at hand.
“What’re you working on?”
I jumped and clutched the sketchpad against my chest. Definitely not obvious at all. “Uh, just some ocean scenes. Sandpipers. Seashells.” I was just listing off shit I’d noticed at the Airbnb.
Reece was staring down at me with his hands on his hips, his wide frame blocking the sun and casting me in a shadow. He was slightly out of breath from his run, and a slick sheen of sweat coated his flushed skin. “Well, are you going to let me see?”
It was a brand-new sketchbook, so there wasn’t anything else I could show him.
“You don’t want to see this. It’s just a messy warm-up.”
Reece reached for the sketchbook, but I lunged to the side, making him topple to the ground. He scrambled across the sand toward me on all fours.
“Let me see.”
“No,” I hissed, holding him off with my tentacles.
When I felt him relax, I let my tentacles slither away—only for the little shit to catch me off guard and launch himself at me again.
This time it was a full-on wrestling match in the sand.
Obviously, I was stronger, but Reece was giving it his all, bucking and thrashing against my tentacles.
At some point during our scuffle, the sketchbook slipped out of my hand.
When I reached for it with my tentacles, Reece took the opportunity to wriggle out of my grip.
Before I could catch him, he snatched the sketchbook and shot to his feet.
“Please just let me see,” he panted, holding the closed book in his hands.
He could have looked immediately, but instead he was asking for my consent.
“Fine,” I relented.
He flipped the sketchbook open, and from where I was on the ground, I couldn’t see his face to gauge his reaction.
“Cyrus, these are…” I held my breath, waiting for him to tell me how much of a creep I was. After a few tense moments, he said, “They’re beautiful.” He lowered the sketchpad and showed me the drawing of him smiling. “Can I keep it?”
“You want to keep it?” I asked, my voice pitching up.
“Yeah.”
“Of course you can.”
“You’ll have to come over and we can find a place to hang it. It’s not weird to have a portrait of yourself hanging in your—” He paused, the weight of reality crashing into us like a tidal wave.
I forced a smile. “Yeah…”
Reece sat on the sand next to me, so close that our bodies were pressed shoulder to shoulder. “Let’s not talk about it right now. I want to keep living like this. Pretending like this is normal.”
“Me, too.” And hopefully one day it would be.
He grabbed my hand and gave it a soft squeeze. “Do you want to go for a swim?”
I knew he was suggesting it to cheer me up. It was sweet.
“I’d love to.”
Reece held my hand as we waded through the shallows, down to where the sand dropped off and the water got deep.
“Don’t feel like you need to entertain me,” Reece said. He was bobbing up and down, riding the waves as they rolled past us onto the shore. “I want you to enjoy yourself.”
He didn’t have to tell me twice.
I dove underwater, jetting around him a few times until I created a tiny whirlpool of bubbles. I could just barely make out his muffled laughter.
The salt water was invigorating and made me feel more alive than I had in years. I let my body drift and allowed the soothing motion of the ocean rock me back and forth along the seabed.
This was pure bliss, and it was all because of Reece. One offhand comment I’d made that stuck with him enough to go out of his way to do this for me.
I shot out of the water and wrapped my arms around Reece, then hoisted him into the air.
“Cyrus,” he screeched, wriggling in my grip. Gods, I adored him.
I spun in a circle, watching the water slosh against his body and his face break out in a smile. Very much a contradiction to his reaction moments ago.
“I love seeing you like this,” he said, circling his arms around my neck.
My hearts swelled. He didn’t say he loved me, but he might as well have.
I swallowed hard, quietly forcing out, “Like what?”
His thumb gently stroked the back of my neck, and he stared into my eyes. “Happy. In your element.”
“This wouldn’t have been possible without you.” I don’t know why I’d avoided the sea for so long, but it almost felt like it was meant to be, like I was waiting for this exact moment with this exact person.
With my mate.
“You’re right. It wouldn’t have.” He said it matter-of-factly, puffing his chest out.
“Oh, fuck you.” I tightened my grip on him and yanked him down, like I was going to pull him underwater with me, but I stopped just before his chin touched the surface.
He laughed before dipping his mouth in the water, blowing a spray of salt water in my face.
“Thanks for that,” I said, wiping my hand over my face.
“You’re welcome.”
I held on to him and we bobbed in the water, riding the ebb and flow of the waves, simply enjoying each other’s company.
“So, what’s on the agenda for this evening?” I asked. I knew Reece had taken care to plan this trip, and I didn’t want to steamroll anything he had in mind.
“I was thinking we could go down to the boardwalk. Do a little sightseeing. Some people watching.”
“Oh, that sounds lovely.”
“Maybe grab a funnel cake and a lemonade,” he added.
“Next you’re going to tell me you want to get matching airbrushed T-shirts.”
He hummed. “I was thinking more along the lines of a hair wrap, but that doesn’t really work for you.”
“I was thinking we could get each other’s names on a grain of rice.”
“We can do whatever you want, Cy. This weekend is for you.”
“Well, the first thing I want to do is make you breakfast. You have to be starving.”
“I won’t say no to that.”