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“It’s you.” Lucien’s voice drops, so quiet that I have to strain to hear it.

The world stops spinning.

“You were my secret.” His eyes are locked on mine, shadowy and intense. “My love.” His voice cracks on the last word, breaking like something inside him has finally given way after holding on for too long.

The realization sweeps away everything I thought I knew. He’s been in love with me for years. The tattoo is about me, a permanent mark on his body, a declaration he’s been carrying in silence. The aggressive pursuit at school that I interpreted as hatred was the only safe way he could touch me. All those years at St. Silas when I thought he despised me, when every interaction felt charged with animosity, he was in love with me. He was hiding it, carrying it alone, and I never knew. I never even suspected.

I wrap my arms around Lucien and pull him to me, desperately, fiercely, like if I don’t hold him right now, I’ll drown. My hands find his back, feeling him through the soft fabric of his Henley, the muscles beneath flexing as his arms come up to surround me. He’s so warm, so real, and when the scent of him fills my senses, I already feel saved.

Lucien breathes in my hair, his face buried against the top of my head, and I feel the press of his lips there, a kiss so tender it makes my heart stutter. His arms surround me, and I cry, sobs wrenched from the wound that only he can heal. My whole body shakes with the force of it, but I can’t stop. I can’t control the way grief and love and understanding come together for absolution, begging him to forgive my years of ignorance. Tears soak into his shirt as I press my face against his chest, feeling the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath my cheek.

Lucien holds me against his heart. He doesn’t shush me or tell me it’s okay. He doesn’t pull away or ask me to stop. He uses no words at all, just his presence, solid and unwavering. His arms surround me, one hand coming up to cradle the back of my head, fingers gliding gently through my hair.

And for the first time in days, I can breathe.

34

LUCIEN

I slip a hand behind Cameron’s head, cradling him, weaving my fingers through his soft hair. My other arm folds around his back, holding him tightly.

He’s crying for both of us. For the empty years behind us and the pain we inflicted on one another. It’s a painful truth that can finally breathe out in the open.

My own tears fall then, silent and burning, against his head. I don’t try to fight them. I stop trying to be strong, or controlled, or any of the lies I’ve spent my whole life maintaining.

I just hold him.

And let myself feel.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur against his hair. “Cam, I’m so fucking sorry.”

He doesn’t answer, but he tightens his hold on me, his fingers gripping the fabric of my shirt.

We stand there for what feels like hours. The frat house is silent around us. The world outside fades away until it’s just us in this moment, this truth, this overwhelming relief of finally being honest.

Eventually, his sobs quiet to shaky breaths, but he doesn’t pull away. Neither do I. Because this is everything. To hold him like this. To have him know the truth and not run from it. I need his body against mine, knowing that he chose to be here, chose to stay, chose me.

“I love you,” I whisper into his hair. “I’ve loved you for so fucking long, Cam. Since before I even knew what it meant.”

His breathing slows.

“I know I fucked up,” I continue, the words spilling out now that I’ve started. “I know I hurt you. I know I should have told you the truth from the beginning instead of hiding behind Gwen, instead of pushing you away when things got hard. But I was scared.”

“Lucien,” he starts, but I cut him off.

“Let me finish, baby.” My voice is rough, raw with emotion. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. The only good thing. And I kept telling myself I was poison, that I’d ruin you, that you deserved better. But the truth is I was just too scared to admit how much I need you.”

I pull back just enough to look at him. His face is blotchy and wet with tears, his eyes red and swollen. But he’s still beautiful.

“I need you, Cam,” I say, and my voice breaks on his name. “I can’t do this without you. I don’t want to.”

He stares up at me for a long moment, his chest heaving with the effort of breathing. Then he reaches up and cups my face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away the tears on my cheeks.

“Then don’t,” he whispers.

And he pulls me down into a kiss.

His lips are hot and slightly chapped from the winter air, and I can taste the salt of his tears mixed with mine. My hands find his waist, and I pull him closer until there’s no space between us. I kiss him with a sudden, incessant hunger for the familiar flavor of Cameron. I crowd into him, devouring the slow, heavy glide of his tongue and the exact, perfect slope of his lips. When I catch his bottom lip, a sharp gasp escapes his throat. I swallow the sound whole, trying to drag every piece of him straight into my lungs.