Page 83 of Our Radiant Embers

“Hey.” I laid down my cutlery and reached into my pocket. “I got you something.”

“You did?” His lips curved up. “You shouldn’t have.”

I smiled back. “If you really meant it, you wouldn’t be looking at me like that.”

Tilting his head, he raised one eyebrow. “Like what?”

“Like…” I hesitated, my fingers tracing the bracelet’s leather texture. Around us, there was the clatter of dishes and the murmur of other diners, but Adam was watching me like none of it mattered. I drew a breath. “Like I’m daylight.”

“Daylight.” It was slow and thoughtful, at odds with the softness caught in Adam’s eyes.

I wasn’t the poetic type—just like I wasn’t the type to buy a bracelet for a guy, leather or otherwise. My throat hurt a little. “You look at me like I’m the brightest thing in the room. But I could be projecting.”

For a second, Adam didn’t react. He didn’t even blink, still as a statue as he stared at me.

I drew another breath, my lungs too tight. “So maybe I am projecting.” The words twisted sharply in my chest.

“You’re not. Jesus, Liam.” Adam dropped his cutlery and leaned forward. Then he seemed to remember we were in public and glanced around. No one paid us any mind. “You’re not,” he repeated, much more quietly. “Not even a little.”

Oh.

I swallowed, the band around my ribs loosening. “Good.”

Adam’s chest rose on an intake of air. With our table set further back from the windows, the fading light emphasised the cut of his jaw, brought out darker hues in his autumn eyes. “But,” he said softly, “nothing’s changed. I’m still…I’m still me.”

“Yeah.” I nodded. “But I’ve changed. Or rather, I’ve changed my mind.”

Something moved behind Adam’s eyes—sadness or frustration, I wasn’t sure. He pushed his plate away, voice quiet but firm. “No. I can’t let you do that.”

I leaned back. “It’s not your choice,” I told him just as quietly. “You can’t tell me not to change my mind when I already have. You can only choose not to take me up on it.”

Low Italian music and the gentle buzz of conversations at other tables emphasised the silence that hung between us. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and exhaled, lashes swooping down to hide his eyes. “I don’t want to be something you’ll regret.”

Fuck.

It felt a little like drowning—a radiant swell of affection trying to pull me under. I dug my fingers into my thigh. “I’d regret it more if I never got to have you.”

He looked up, something like gentle desperation tugging at the corners of his mouth. A beat passed in utter stillness. Then his features softened for a tentative smile. “Have me? Please specify.”

Going under.

I held his eyes. “Any way I can.”

“Whatever I’m free to give, it’s yours.” It was no more than a murmur, blending into the shadows between us. Then a sudden frown washed over Adam’s face. “This isn’t just because you feel bad for me, right? Like, you said you got me something. This isn’t what you meant, is it? It’s not just because it’s my birthday and you feel sorry.”

“God, Adam—no.” I leaned forward only to remember we were in public, my fingers just shy of brushing his. “It’s not a favour, for fuck’s sake. This is what I got you.” I dug the bracelet out of my pocket and pushed it across the table.

He didn’t say anything for a second, focus flicking from the bracelet back to me. It was like something in him broke apart, a glimpse of raw vulnerability that stained his voice in pastel shades. “Let’s get the bill.”

Yes, please.

“I’ve got it,” I said quickly, and Adam shook his head even as his fingers closed around the bracelet.

“No, this one’s on me.”

“Says who?”

“Me.”

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