Page 155 of Shades of Grey & Gold

He dips his head, pulling my hands up to his forehead, leaning gently against my stomach.

I look down at him, my hands clasped in his, his head against them in a prayer, his knees on the soft rug of the bedroom we laughed in, loved in.

My Cal.

“Please,” a whisper and a small guttural sob. “Please, forgive me.”

Never will you find a Renzetti on their knees for anyone. I will sooner die than put myself on my knees for you or anyone else.

The last words I heard out of his mouth that night echo in my mind.

He took a step towards the men who took me, dropping his gun to twist around his finger, and forcing the barrel of the gun pointed at him against his own forehead in a dare.

And then he told me to run.

And I did.

And he died.

But he didn’t.

Because he is right here.

He’s real.

I take stock of every place our bodies are touching.

His hands.

His forehead, warm.

His hair lightly brushing the tips of my fingers.

The press of his hands wrapped around mine into my stomach.

“You said you would sooner die than get on your knees for anyone,” I repeat his words back to him, still unable to process this reality as one that is truly real.

“I’m already dead.” His eyes lift to mine. “And you are not just anyone. I’ll get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness every day if you let me, Max.”

“Time, Cal, I need…” I’m gently pulling against his hands, and he reluctantly lets mine free, nodding at the floor.

But my hands are in his hair before I can stop them, pulling his head against the spot right below my chest.

His arms wrap around me and his entire body sags against mine.

I rock back, dizzy, but he holds me up, holds me steady.

The room spins, my fingers still wrapped in his hair, the warmth of him real against my fingertips.

I feel the tears drop from my cheeks onto my hands and mix with the dark curls my fingers have already found their previous home in.

After a minute, my body slides down and his hands rise to cup my face. My hands are caught between us and the golden-green of his eyes shines bright, glimmering with unfallen emotion.

I’ve spent the last ten weeks reaching for my own dreams because of this man.

I’ve spent every day forcing myself out of bed to make him proud of me, to fight the grief. The grief that, tonight, was lifted, replaced with some sickening combination of confusion and anger and relief.

But everything before right now was dark; the darkest it’s ever been.