Page 118 of Sweet Shots

Mikah pulls back, resting his forehead against mine.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes out.

“I missed you too, baby,” I tell him, running my hands up his back.

I can’t believe this is real. I’m so glad it’s real, but fuck, it’s hard to believe he’s back here.

I kiss him again, softly on his lips, the side of his mouth, his jaw, then his neck. I wrap my arms around him, just needing to hold him.

“Are you really moving in?” I ask.

“I’ve got all my stuff,” he says, pulling back and looking down at the one suitcase. “Important stuff anyway.”

“Where’s the cat?”

“I wasn’t sure about him, so I, uh, left him there.”

I chuckle. “You going to sell him with the house?”

“Well, no, but… I couldn’t just—”

I press my finger to his lips, and he snaps his mouth shut, smiling.

“I missed you,” I tell him again. This time slower, firmer, with more meaning. “I’m glad you’re here. I want you here, always. You and whatever comes with you.”

He nods, still seeming a little unsure of this.

“The only way we are going to get this to work, Mikah, is if you talk to me, you know that, right? You have to be honest and open with me about everything.”

“I know. I’m working on it.”

I pull him in for another hug. “I’ll hold us together the best I can. I’ll even try to be your voice when you don’t have one.”

“Thank you,” he whispers, his voice cracking.

“I love who I am when I’m with you, who you allow me to be. I love us together.” I pull back again, looking into his eyes. “I love you and everything that you are.”

He smiles but ducks his head. “I’m working on believing that.”

“That’s all I ask for.”

Chewing on his lip, he looks back at me, searching my face. “I love you too, you know?”

I grin so wide it hurts. “I know,” I say.

“You know?” he asks.

“Of course I know, baby.”

And I have known. But despite what people think, love is not all you need. There are so many things that come into play when trying to make a life with someone, and too many people stick around just because they love someone. It’s not enough.

I never questioned Mikah’s feelings for me, I knew they were there. What I needed to know was that they were important enough to be put first. Am I worth more than his trauma? Maybe that’s not a great way to think about it, but in thissituation, I think it is. Am I worth all the work he has to do on himself? I don’t want him to do it for me. He needs to do it for himself, but yeah, maybe I want him to do it because of me. Because I’m enough. Because he wants to be with me badly enough that he’ll deal with all the shit from his childhood. That a life together is worth going through all the hard stuff to get there.

All I ever wanted from him was his pain. I wanted to take it away, destroy it, and see him come out of his shell. There were cracks along the way, small pinpricks and even chunks on some days. But now? I’m pretty sure there are more holes than not, and that’s fucking progress.

I guide him toward the stairs, fully intent on bringing him to bed and showing him how much I missed him with my cock. But he stops me.

“Is that a new couch?” he gasps, eyes glued to it.

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