Page 121 of Combust (Everyday Heroes 2)
My heart melts. There is so much swimming in his eyes. So many unspoken words. So many unnamed emotions.
He leans forward, kisses me, and then rests his forehead against mine as his thumbs brush over my cheeks.
“What are you doing here?” I laugh and whisper and press another kiss to his lips.
“I told you when I was done with the fire we needed to have a talk.”
“A talk? Is that what we’re going to do? Talk?”
His dick is hard and tempting where it presses between my thighs, and every part of my body aches for it as much as every part of my heart needs to hear what he has to say.
“Yes.” His voice is strained, and he kisses me again so that when our lips part he has to hold my head in place to prevent me from taking more. “We need to talk. We’ve gone on too long without talking.” Another brusque kiss. “And then we’ll communicate in other ways.” I can feel his mouth spread into a smile against mine.
“Are you okay, Grady?” I’m not sure why I ask the question in this moment, but it feels so very important that it just comes out. I lean back from where I sit astride his hips and study him, needing to see his eyes when he answers.
“I am now.” It’s a struggle to fight the tears that threaten because those three words are almost as meaningful to me as another set of three. It means he finds solace in me. Comfort.
“Good. I’m glad.”
“I was finally able to listen to the song you sent me in my voicemail. It was incredible, Dylan. You are incredible. I’m so proud of you.”
“It’s because of you I could do it.”
“No. It’s because of you.”
“I—”
“You’re going to be a star.” His smile is shy and warms every part of me. “And I’m going to tell you ‘I told you so’ every single day.”
“Every single day?”
“I have a few things I need to say—”
“Grady—”
“My turn, Dylan.” He presses a lingering kiss on my lips. “There were some things I should have said before. A lot of things. And I need to say them now.”
“It doesn’t m
atter what you say, it only matters that you’re here.”
“It does matter. Words always matter.” He shakes his head and looks down for a minute before meeting my eyes again. “Just because I let you go doesn’t mean I wanted to. In fact it was quite the opposite . . . but how could I ask you to stay and put you through this life I live when you have your own?”
“Isn’t that my choice to decide?”
“The protector in me was trying to prevent you from being hurt.”
“The protector in you is appreciated, but I can make my own decisions, which is why you’re not fully to blame. I have a voice, and I chose not to use it. I figured you were so set in your opinions that nothing was going to change them, so why try?”
“Sometimes it takes something—or someone—to make you see the error of your ways. A man can only call himself a man when he’s willing to admit he was wrong.” Grady angles his head and stares at me. “I was wrong, Dylan.”
“I was wrong too.”
He laces his fingers with mine, offers me a shy smile, and then explains everything about what happened to him and his crew from the wind shift to the firestorm they had to endure under their space blankets to their long, arduous hike out.
“You see, when I was under that fire blanket, all I could think about was you. How I wanted to come home to you. How I want you waiting for me, missing me. I know that’s selfish, but what is all this for if there isn’t someone willing to take the risk with me? What does all of this mean if I can’t go home and share the ups and downs and sideways days with someone?”
My pulse races, and every part of my body surges with an immeasurable pride in him. “I don’t know what you want out of life, Dylan. We never talked about shit like that. Kids? Dogs? More pigs? I don’t have a clue. But I’d love to. I want to know what you want, what you need, what you dream of. And I’d love to be the one to help you get it.”
