Page 17 of Collin: Episodes 4-6
“What if he’s not willing to lose me? Am I not selfish, knowing that years will take me before they take him?”
“Do you think Franklin was selfish loving you?”
“No. He gave us so much. He was a gift our peers could not have given us.”
“Then let Collin make the choice himself.”
Collin lifted his head, his hand gripping the flesh of Mr. Reevesworth’s chest. Mr. Reevesworth’s surprised eyes met his.
“I might be young, sir. But I’d rather be here, for however long we both have, than to walk away to avoid parting in the future.”
“You can’t know the future.”
Collin pushed himself up on his elbow, eyes fixed on Mr. Reevesworth’s face. “Twelve years, sir. That’s all the time I had with my father. Fourteen years—that’s nearly all I had with my mother. Seven years is all I had with my grandfather. And for all that it haunts me, the memory of my father walking away on the final day, I’m grateful for the fact that I had a father worth grieving. I’m grateful that I’ve never questioned whether or not he loved me. I’m grateful that, even though he knew from the day that I was born he might be taken from me, he gave me days that would leave behind pain because the love was so strong that it would be missed.”
Tears trailed down Collin’s face. Even as he spoke, he could see his father’s back, the way the fabric of the man’s light jacket stretched and shifted over his shoulders as he walked away, he could smell the rain of that day, and he could hear the sounds of the traffic just out of sight.
He hadn’t known it would be his last memory.
But it had crystalized with time, with shock, and with slow acceptance of a loss that would never stop throbbing in his soul.
Mr. Reevesworth’s hand came down and covered Collin’s, pressing Collin’s palm even tighter into his chest.
Collin held his gaze for a long moment. Mr. Reevesworth gave a sharp, determined nod.
Collin laid his head back down again, facing into the room where he could see Mr. Moreau. The other man was sitting right beside them, utilizing the coffee table like a bench.
“You should drink more.” The Frenchman opened one of the bottles of water. Condensation stood out on its surface. He wiped it with a cloth napkin before handing it over.
Questions floated through Collin’s mind as he drank. Where was Damian? What time was it? Why was he still naked?
But he didn’t ask. He drank until his stomach said enough; he put the bottle back on the coffee table. Then he laid his head down again. Mr. Reevesworth placed his hand on his head.
Collin’s bladder really wanted to be emptied, but this moment was important. It could wait just for a little while.
Mr. Reevesworth’s phone buzzed. Mr. Moreau picked it up off the table and read the caller ID. He pressed the call button and passed it to his husband.
“Damian.”
With one ear pressed against Mr. Reevesworth’s stomach, Collin couldn’t hear the other end of the phone call.
“Don’t feel the need to stay if you feel you’ve done what you can.”
There were more sounds but still no clear words from the other end.
Mr. Reevesworth sighed. “No, I understand. Just come home.”
More waiting for someone else to talk.
Mr. Reevesworth huffed, but it sounded like a pleased huff. “Of course. Take your time.”
He hung up and handed the phone back to his husband. “Damian says that Ascott was a no-show at the gala.”
“That’s unfortunate.” Mr. Moreau’s mouth pressed into a line. “There are others.”
“I think someone else got to his group first.”
“Then we’ll deal.” Mr. Moreau stood up. “How long till Damian is home?”
