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I couldn’t stand for that. I walked us both back until his shoulders hit the wall. The second floor of the playroom above us jutted out, casting a sharp line of shade that had us both shivering from the cold.
“I’ll talk to your sister,” I promised. “I’ll apologize and explain.”
He shook his head
“And I’ll apologize to you,” I said. “Again and again. Every day for the rest of my life, but I’m begging you not to do this.”
“I’m not trying to hurt you,” he whispered, screwing his eyes closed. “I’m just trying to do the right thing.”
I dropped our foreheads together, swallowing down the whimper that threatened to burst out of my chest. “Paying me back for leaving you then isn’t the right thing.”
He grunted, bumping me with his forehead until I opened my eyes.
“This doesn’t have anything to do with our past,” he muttered. “This weekend, this morning. It just put everything into perspective for me. This is your life, Arch. It’s a good life.”
“It’s empty.”
My ribs cracked, my sternum spider-webbed like he’d taken a sledgehammer to my chest. There was no way this was happening. No possible way that after three days of absolute and mindless perfection, I was losing the man I’d pined after my entire adult life. It had been careless to walk away from him when we were teenagers, and I’d be damned if I let him do the exact same thing to me but as adults.
“Owen.” I lifted my hand from his chest and flattened it back down, touching him over and over to make sure he was real and he was still in front of me. And then, so carefully, he took my face into his hands and dragged his stare over every crease and line and angle. He had to have seen my tears because I could feel the salty wetness covering my cheeks, my chin, and the hollow of my throat.
“I’m sorry,” he said softly, so low I barely heard him.
“Don’t make the same mistake that I made back then,” I begged. “Walking away from you was the worst decision of my life, Owen. I’m begging you to give me a real fucking chance to show you this can work.”
He exhaled and closed his eyes, pressing our lips together in a delicate kiss. I knew he’d done it to shut me up, but I took advantage. I licked the seam of his lips until his mouth opened, and then I dove in. Fully and wholeheartedly, because that was what he deserved from me, what he deserved from everyone. I moaned into his mouth, pushing him against the wall and stretching my tongue as deep as I could reach, like I was maybe, hopefully the only person to ever kiss him so deeply.
He held my face tight in his palms, kissing me back with as much frantic intensity as I gave him. And it wasn’t long until our bodies got the better of us, and when his hips bucked against me, I acted fast. Reaching into his pants, I fisted his cock, swallowing down any protest he could have offered. And I kissed him while I jacked him off, loving the way he sniffled and whimpered and moved because of how good it was with me.
It was so good with me.
He had to see.
He had to understand.
He came quickly with a garbled cry against the corner of my mouth, and I didn’t stop stroking him until his little moans turned into painful whimpers. His cum coated my fingers and my tears covered his, and I could tell by the tension that radiated out from him that it hadn’t been enough.
I’d failed him yet again.
“Please, Owen.” I licked the taste of him off my lips, leaning back enough to see his tear-streaked face. “Don’t do this.”
“I hate you for this, Archer.” My full name came out barely more than a strangled cry. “I hate you for reminding me just how fucking much I love you.”
CHAPTER26
OWEN
Things hadn’t gotten betterwith Archie.
After the argument at Rob’s pool, everything was tense and awkward, and when I asked him to push the flight to Sunday night instead of Monday morning, he obliged. He hated it—I could tell, from the tightness that spread across his shoulders and the jerky way he helped me carry my bags down to the car, but he didn’t fight me on it. I was under the impression there was too much going on in his head to protest, and I didn’t know if I liked that or not.
What outcome had I been after in the first place?
I hadn’t meant to pick a fight with him, but as our little pretend weekend drew toward its end, the crushing weight of reality had started to settle, and I didn’t see the point in dragging anything out for any longer than we already had. Archie and I had shared a few great days, but that was all it could ever be.
The flight home was miserable after I’d fought Archie on the tarmac about accompanying me back home. The way his cheeks burned dark and his eyes filled with frustrated tears was something that would haunt me as long as the rest of our cursed memories. He’d let me kiss him, though, or I’d let him kiss me, and it was sad, and bitter, and salty, and far from the kind of goodbye either of us deserved.
I didn’t eat or drink anything on the plane, choosing to instead keep the taste of him in my mouth for as long as I could. And I took a cab home from the airport, pads of my fingertips set softly against my lower lip until I was on my welcome mat, fishing my keys out of my pocket.
