“What’shis?” I growl. “That’s not how you should be treated. Not unless it’s what you truly want. If you are really his, Colin, he should protect you and listen you.”
“If I’m going to do it with anyone, I want it to be with you,” he argues, opening his eyes and staring into mine.
Fuck.
My thumb runs along his cheek as I let those words dismantle me one by one. A piece of my chest warms as if it’s overflowing with heat and love. My sweet, beautiful, perfect Colin.
“It’s nice to be someone’s,” he whispers.
“Does he truly appreciate you, Colin? Does he know what he has?”
I’m saying too much. Letting too much out.
“What does he have?” Colin whispers.
My mouth hangs open as all the words I wish I could utter hang on my lips unspoken. Instead, I draw him closer, pressing my forehead to his. I feel his breath on my face, the familiar scent of him. It’s almost too much to resist.
I’d like to remind him that he was once mine.
Or that he still is.
He’s clinging to my arms as if I’m holding him up.
“Colin,” I mumble in a low rasp, but he cuts me off before I can continue.
“Don’t call me that,” he says. His gaze is pleading and hopeful as he stares at me.
“Shakespeare,” I say and notice the way his mouth twitches with a hint of a smile.
We’re standing too close, and this is far too intimate. Warning signs are going off in my head, but I don’t pull away or stop myself.
“Say it, Declan,” he whispers, staring into my eyes. “Please.”
Like always, the words are tied up on my tongue. I know what he wants to hear, but do I have it in me to say it?
Instead, I tug him closer and hover my lips over his. “You don’t need me to tell you that you deserve better. No one deserves you,” I add.
His gaze flashes to my lips briefly and then back up to my eyes, and I think he’s waiting for me to kiss him. And I want to. More than anything, I want to, but then what?
Then frustration flashes over his face as he shoves me away. “Nothing has changed. What is wrong with me?”
“What are you talking about?” I ask, grabbing his arm before he can leave.
“This!” he shouts, waving his arms. “You! It all feels a little familiar, Declan. You always want me within reach, available toyou.”
“What do you want?” I ask frantically.
“God, I can’t believe we’re having this fight again,” he says with a laugh.
“We never had the fight, remember? You just left.”
“What was the point, Declan? It was too late then, and it’s way too late now.”
“Don’t say that,” I mumble in defeat. “It’s not too late.”
He lets out an acrimonious huff. “It’s not too late? So suddenly, after seven years, you’ve decided that you love me? That you’re willing to give me more than eight days in the summer? That you’ll be faithful and committed to me? Now, after all this time?”
He steps toward me, the morning sun catching hints of goldin his warm blue eyes. And in this moment, right now, I realize that I will fight for him. I have to. I was a fool to ever think I could let him go after this week.
