“He’s not my Sir, Ma’am. He’s stopped all of that with me and told me you’re my Ma’am, and that’s it. And that’s not my home.Thisis the legal address on my license and voter’s registration and everything else. So if thisisn’tmy home, and you’renotmy Ma’am anymore, then please tell me and I’ll go get a hotel room for the night until I can start looking for a new place to live tomorrow.”
The tears in his eyes shatter my heart. “Justtalkto me,” he implores. “Please? If you don’t want me anymore then please quit dragging this out, because it’s killing me.” He sinks to his knees. “We’ve been together fortwelveyears, Ma’am. And right now, it feels like I’ve been abandoned bybothof you. I don’t know what else to do or say.”
Well, fuck.
Well-fucking-played, George.
I walk over to him and before I can lean in and hug him, he drops into a full greeting bow, cupping his hands around my heels and kissing the tops of my feet as his body begins shaking with the force of his sobs.
I sit on the floor in front of him and pull him into my lap, folding my body over his. “Of course you’re still my boy,” I say. “And of course this is your home.” I gently rock him as he cries and I remember that fragile, broken boy sobbing in my arms on his couch that bitterly cold day.
I remember how, as I sat there with him, how two words softly slithered through my mind.
He’s mine.
I lay my head against his and close my eyes. “You’realwaysgoing to be mine, boy,” I gently say. “Always.”
“Then wh-why are you a-acting like y-you don’t w-want me?”
I haven’t seen him this upset since his mom died.
I kiss his temples, his forehead, his cheeks and tighten my grip on him. I feel lower than shit, if that’s possible.
“I’m sorry, sweetie. Idowant you. I was trying to do what I thought was right for George.”
“Wh-what about what’s r-right for y-you? And m-me?”
“Shh.” I gently rock him. “I’ll get my head on straight. I promise. We’ll get this figured out.”
I have to. Without Declan, George is a ticking time bomb, and I damn well know it.
That’s even more guilt I wouldn’t be able to deal with, if he kills himself.
Fuck.
I get Declan upstairs and into bed, and maybe it’s grief sex or angry sex or upset sex or…I don’t know what. But we start to make love, and there’s not a damn mark on him. I feel guilty even more that I’ve put Declan through this.
This is all on me.
He really would be better off with George. I’m so fucked up I’m toxic at this point, and I know it.
Once we’ve both come and he’s sound asleep in my bed, I pull on sweats and grab my phone and keys. As I head downstairs, I check George’s alarm on the app—
The motherfucker’s activated the lock-out feature on his gate.
Well, shit.
I mean, this isn’t really an obstacle, because I have the master code for the system, and I can override it.
It’s nearly midnight. I pull up his motion detectors on the alarm system. It’s not armed, of fucking course.
Dumbass.
There was movement in the upstairs hallway and living room five minutes ago, meaning he’s awake.
I felt pretty pissed off at him when he showed up at my place unannounced.
And yet…
