Page 49 of Beacon

“Itiswho you?—”

I can’t finish a sentence because he keeps interrupting me. “No, it’s not. I keep… I keep freezing. When it matters. I keepfreezing. Instead of acting. A few weeks ago when Maria’s crew was under attack, I froze. When we saw Elizabeth yesterday on the motorcycle, I froze. Even this morning, when we found that asshole with his pants down, I froze yet again. I knew he was a kidnapper and that he was a danger to Elizabeth and to you. But instead of acting when I should have, I froze. You had to kill him instead. That never—never—would have happened last year.”

I want to burst out with another denial, but I make myself think about his words, what he’s expressing. I have to process it so I can give his naked confession the response he deserves.

Still massaging his lower back, I finally say slowly, “I understand what you’re saying, and I understand why you think it means something is wrong with you. But I honestly don’t believe the reaction time of your trigger finger defines whether you’re a good or bad man. There’s so much more to you than being a protector, Mack.”

He’s shaking again, more urgently this time. His eyes are still squeezed shut. “What else is there?”

“What else? Are you serious? You’ve got the biggest heart of anyone I’ve ever known. You encourage people. Make them laugh. Make them happy. Make them want to be brave, want to do the right thing. You’ve been like… like a beacon fire, lighting the way for us. And keeping all of us warm. You’ve always taken care of people in so many ways that have nothing to do with handling weapons. Even if you never get back to the reaction time you used to have, you can do so much good in the world. And you can have a really good life. You don’t have to be the same man you were to be good or be happy. Youdon’t. And maybe you should offer the same grace to yourself that you’ve always offered everyone else.”

Maybe it’s what I say or maybe it’s simply too much rising emotion inside him, but he’s frozen for a moment, and then he completely falls apart.

He shakes and gasps and chokes on suppressed sobs. I’ve never once seen Mack so broken.

With helpless whimpers, I slide my hands higher up his body so I’m stroking his head. I bend over far enough to nuzzle the crook of his neck. Press a few kisses on his cheek.

He falls quiet as quickly as he fell apart. He’s still breathing loud and thick, but his body relaxes.

I kiss the side of his head, letting my lips linger on the smooth curve for longer than I should. “Whether you ever get back to the fighter you used to be, you’re still the sameman at heart, and that’s the man that all of us know and love.”

He doesn’t respond in words, but he seems to have heard me. His eyes are still closed but not as tightly now. I gently wipe away the trail of a tear from his cheek and ask, “Can I keep going with the massage?”

“Yes,” he breathes out in almost a hiss. “Please.”

I feel better as I smooth more lotion over the middle of his back and start working on his muscles again. There’s not as much angst shuddering inside him now, and although he’s still full of knots, his body is more relaxed.

I take my time, going back over his shoulders and down to his waist again. Then I ease the sheet off his lower body, working on his trim ass briefly before moving lower to massage his legs.

When I’m down to his feet, I think Mack is actually asleep because he’s relaxed so fully. I give his toes a final squeeze and start getting up.

“I’m awake,” he says.

I giggle because he surprises me so much. “Oh, I thought you’d fallen asleep.”

“No. Just feeling good.” He pauses and adds gruffly, “Better.”

The last word evokes shivers of pleasure and affection, but I keep my response light intentionally. “Good. If you want to turn over, I can do your front too.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He finds the energy to lift up and turn over onto his back, sighing as he stretches out his arms and legs. He watches me silently for a minute as I start rubbing his feet again.

When I smile at him, oddly tender, he gives me a small, tired smile in return before he closes his eyes again.

I take my time as I move back up his legs. By the time I reach his upper thighs, he’s fully erect. He’s not wearing any clothes, so it’s clearly evident.

I glance at his face, but his eyes are still closed and his expression soft and exhausted.

Wrapping one hand around his shaft, I squeeze and pull in a way I know he likes as I massage one of his thighs with my other hand.

He groans and arches his back slightly. “Yes. Just like that. I need it just like that.”

Thrilled and emotional both, I shift my other hand to his sac and gently massage it as I work his cock.

He doesn’t have much control tonight. He comes in less than a minute, releasing loud, wordless moans as he works up toward climax and then gasping out how good I am and how much he needs me as I squeeze him through the last of his spasms.

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