Page 28 of Collin: Episodes 10-12
“Was I?”
Collin’s phone dinged, signaling the car was almost ready. He pushed the button on the elevator. “Have you ever gone to war before, sir? Because this feels like you’re going to war. Like we’re going to war.”
Mr. Reevesworth laughed darkly. “I don’t start wars, Collin. But I do end them.”
Episode 11
Security followed Collin and Mr. Reevesworth from the car to the atrium of their building. Cameras flashed, and loud voices tossed questions through the air. Collin kept his hat pulled down over his face and stayed between the security guards and Mr. Reevesworth. It was uncomfortably reminiscent of less than a week ago when he’d ended up in the hospital.
One of the women from the gym waved at them. “Richard, you’re making it lively around here.”
Mr. Reevesworth nodded. “My apologies, Lila.”
“Don’t! We all have your back!” She gave them a thumbs-up and hurried toward the door.
As they neared the elevator, Mr. Reevesworth’s hand moved toward Collin and then stopped. They were still in line of sight of the street with all the glass windows. Even so, Collin found himself moving closer, summoned without even a word. He doesn’t need to speak; I just know without him saying anything.
Collin forced himself to not move in close. Instead, he said, “Behind you, sir.”
Mr. Reevesworth gave a clipped nod and entered the elevator as the security guard motioned him forward.
The security guard behind Collin joined them in the elevator and closed the door. He punched a button on his headset. “On our way up.”
“Roger,” a male voice crackled through the headset mic. If Collin hadn’t been so close, he wouldn’t have heard it through the man’s earpiece.
The doors opened on their floor, and yet another guard in black was waiting at The Residency entrance. Mr. Reevesworth nodded to him. “We have it from here. Thank you.”
“Just doing our job, sir. Are you going out again tonight?”
“Only if something unexpected comes up.”
“We’ll have teams on standby. You can reach us at any time.” The leader nodded sharply and stepped back to the elevator with half the team.
Mr. Reevesworth punched his code into The Residency door and led Collin inside.
The entranceway smelled of fresh basil and pasta. Out of habit, Collin held out his hands for Mr. Reevesworth’s coat and hat, hanging them up while his master took off his own shoes. Only when Mr. Reevesworth was finished did Collin start to take off his own hat and coat. Collin leaned over to take off his shoes. Footsteps approached from the direction of the kitchen.
“Richard. Collin.”
“Émeric.”
Collin straightened up, shoes still on. Mr. Moreau was right there, linen pants low on his waist, one of his soft loose shirts with its low-cut slit in the front half held open by the black apron tied at his waist. He had a towel in one hand as if he hadn’t even stopped to set it down before coming to the door. He reached Mr. Reevesworth first and wrapped one strong arm around his husband, his hand sliding past the opening of the man’s suit jacket and wrapping around his lower back, bringing the two husbands together in a tight embrace.
“Sir.” The honorific almost caught in Collin’s throat, but he forced it out. “You’re home.”
Still holding his Mr. Reevesworth, Mr. Moreau held out his other arm, towel still clutched in his fingers. “Mon chaton, you look tired.”
Collin toed off his shoes and left them, throwing himself forward into his sir’s arm. Mr. Moreau gripped him tight, pulling him in so that he had both Mr. Reevesworth and Collin held against him.
“Damian texted that he’ll be here in thirty minutes. Dinner will be ready in fifteen.”
Collin let his forehead drop to his French dom’s shoulders and let the feeling of having both men pressed against him flow through his nerves. He wiggled his stocking feet against the rug, relieved to finally have his shoes off. Relieved to finally be home.
Relieved to have his sir back.
Mr. Moreau said something in French, the syllables half crushed between him and Mr. Reevesworth. Mr. Reevesworth answered in the same language. Tender, yearning, full. He asked a question, and Mr. Moreau replied in a reassuring cadence. Everything must be all right, then.
“Collin.”
