Page 55 of Dravin

“How can everything inside of one person just know when it comes to someone else? Is this even real? We’re living a life with fake names and a fake situation,” she says.

“That doesn’t have any bearing on what this is.” Great. It would be wonderful if I could give my brain a chance to catch up with my mouth.

“So you do admit there’s something.”

“I admit it, I just don’t know that it can be what you want it to be. I don’t know if I can.”

Her eyes bore through me, straight to the back of my skull, like she can see what’s in my head more clearly than I can. Some days, it’s a fucking mess in there. If she could pick it apart and decode it for herself and share the secrets of it with me, I’d probably thank her.

Maybe.

“I need you to tell me something and don’t bullshit me.”

I can’t agree to that until I know what it is. There is information that I can never, ever give her because it would endanger her. I’ve made promises that I can’t break, even for her.

“When you said you find people who don’t want to be found, you’re not looking for good people. You’re looking for people who need to be brought to justice. You’re doing jobs for the law, or as close to it as you could call it when it comes to a job like that.”

We’ve touched on this before. She already has the answer. I can give her just the barest hint of a nod.

Her palm flattens out against my bare chest, the heat of her scorching me hotter than my back, even though it’s basically been flayed wide open. “Why did you let me think that you were something that you weren’t?”

“I didn’t know you’d gone there until you did.”

“You let me be mad at you, think the worst of you, say horrible things. You deserved none of it, but you took it all.”

“I was there to protect you. You didn’t have to like me for me to do that.”

“Why do you think distance is safer for me?”

The one thing I don’t want to be in this life is a liar. I’ll allow misunderstandings, but only if they serve a greater good. She’s asking me straight up for the truth and I can’t deny her. “I’m going to need some time to sort out what I think now. I don’t want to offer you anything less than all of me, but how can I do that?” It’s never been on the table before. I’ve never been in a position where someone’s asked me to give it.

She inhales sharply and I barely stop myself from making the same sound. There’s honesty and then there’stoo much. She finds my hand and interlaces her fingers. I try with my whole being not to hold onto her as desperately as I want to. If I did, I’d never be able to let go.

My throat hurts. My back hurts. My stomach hurts. My chest is beyond hurting. It’s going to implode, and my head? It’s such a jumbled mess that I can feel a white hot headache moving in behind my eyes. But the real pain has nothing to do with the tattoo, it’s the fact that for the first time in my life I feel like I’ve been cracked open.

Kael squeezes my hand. “I’ll give you time, but only if you’re thinking about the positives and the real legit negatives, not stuff that doesn’t matter. If you promise you’ll be fair in your assessment, I can leave you to decide what’s best for you. But you have to decide foryou. If I’m going to ask you for anything, it’s to trust that I’ve already made that decision forme. Choose living. Choosehappiness, even if you never believed it was possible. I guess that’s all I’ll say, because you need to sleep.”

Breathing is nearly impossible. It feels a lot like breaking. Maybe the roaring in my ears is the sound of my ribs cracking around my heart. My swallows are audible.

True to her word, she shifts, only taking her hand away when she turns, giving me her back. She tucks my arm around her, sliding it over her hip.

I might be in a ton of pain and a fuckload of emotional turmoil, but my cock seems to like this just fine.

She tucks up against me and I know that she can feel my erection pressing against her ass, even with all the layers of blankets.

“Is a platonic spooning okay? Two people who just want to be close to each other?”

“As long as it doesn’t turn out like the platonic painting session.”

She giggles. “I like that you can still be funny, even if you have to pretend that you’re ninety-nine percent serious.”

She snuggles even closer. It’s not helping the fact that I’m very well aware that I have zero clothes on under here.

“Just rub my arm a little. I like that. It’ll help me fall asleep. Maybe it’ll help you too.”

I don’t want to do it and give her false hope, but then I figure that’s an asshole thing to even think, so I follow her instructions, tracing the shape of her slowly. Memorizing. Wanting. Fighting myself.

“I might need more time than you figure is okay, but please give me space. I swear to you that even if you can’t see me, I’ll be there, keeping watch through the cameras and I’ll drive by several times a night to check on your house.”

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