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“Nope,” I reach out, gripping him around the back of his neck, pulling him forward until his forehead rests against mine. “We’re not going to do that. We’re not going to play that game. I love you Zeke Adams. I love you so fucking much, and I will never, ever leave you. Just the thought of having to live my life without you… I’d rather die.”
Zeke doesn’t utter a single word in response. Instead he leans into me, wrapping one hand around the back of my head, and smashes his lips into mine. It’s been so long, I had almost forgotten what he tastes like, but when his mouth opens and his tongue slides between my lips, I remember. He tastes the way he’s always tasted. Like chaos, thunderstorms, and control. More importantly, he tastes like home.
This time though, there’s something different in his kiss. I always thought I was the one who was starving, but when our lips lock together, he devours the very air that I breathe, and it’s almost like he’s the one who’s been starving all along.
Our lips part as we finally come up for air, but he doesn’t move away, he simply hovers his open mouth above mine.
“I fucking love you baby boy, and I’ll tell you that every day for the rest of my goddamn life, so you never have to question it again. I love you.”
Chapter forty-four
Cole
It’s been a week since the abduction. A few days at the weird mansion in the valley that I can’t even remember, and a few days back here at Riot’s. Every day I wake up and I’m afraid to move. Afraid to get up and go look in the mirror. Afraid to see the remnants of who I used to be. The time I spent in that cell irreparably changed something inside of me on a fundamental level.
I feel like damaged goods now. If I can’t look at myself without feeling disgusted, how can I expect anyone else to look at me? Especially Riot. Who would want me after all of that? Zeke is the only one who understands. He quite literally held me while I shattered, and then carried all of my pieces away from the wreckage. So I cling to him day in and day out. When I’m not sleeping, I’m just holding onto him, terrified to let go.
I woke up this morning and he was talking with Riot in the corner of the room. Not sure if I’m ready yet to face Riot, I shut my eyelids and pretended I was still asleep. Now Zeke is in the shower, Riot has left the room entirely, and I’m lying here alone with my thoughts. It’s a dangerous place for me to be, really. Because my mind takes me to the worst places possible, and without Zeke next to me to pull me in, I feel like I’m drifting away.
It’s not that I don’t want to see Riot. That’s not what it is at all. I want nothing more than to throw myself into Riot’s arms and feel the warmth of his skin on mine. I want to inhale him and bury myself inside of him so I never have to be without him again, because that time without him was hell.
But I can’t handle the rejection. I can’t handle throwing myself in his arms only for him to get one look at the broken man inside of me and push me away. I’m already damaged beyond repair, but that would be my utter destruction.
That’s not who Riot is though, right?
Riot is love and light. He’s the calm after the storm, the only structure left standing after the hurricane. So would he really do that to me? Or do the demons from that cell just have their claws dug so deep into me that I can’t see the light through the fog?
The questions and doubts swirl around me, choking the life from me, and it makes me realize that not knowing is just as bad as knowing. Because if he doesn’t want me, I’m just delaying the inevitable. But if he does, then I’m only hurting myself. Pushing the blankets to the side, I sit up and swing my legs over the edge of the mattress.
My wounds are still tender and my body still aches, but physically, I’m healing so much better than I ever expected. Still, I stand up and walk slowly through the room, pausing when my hand lands on the door knob.
Am I ready for this? Can I handle whatever is coming my way?
Whether I can handle it or not, I need to know, so I grasp the smooth metal knob and turn, pulling the door open and slowly making my way out of the room. Riot’s sitting on the couch with his feet tucked under him, his head resting on his propped up fist, and the television remote in one hand. I’m moving so quietly, I don’t think he even notices I’ve come out, but when the floor creaks beneath my feet, he jumps a mile out of his skin.
His baby blues meet my gaze, and I pause, sucking in a breath, mentally convincing myself not to turn and run. Reminding myself that I need to see this through. Exhaling slowly, I urge my feet to keep moving forward. Riot sits frozen in place. He doesn’t move, he doesn’t speak, I’m not even sure if he’s breathing.
Shuffling one foot in front of the other, I don’t stop until I reach the edge of the couch. For a moment we just stare at each other, neither one of us speaking a single word. A thousand unspoken words swirl around my brain, and I’m not even sure where to begin, so I slowly sit down on the couch beside him, and open my mouth, allowing the words to simply fall out.
“I… I don’t know how to talk to you right now.”
Hurt flashes behind his eyes, and his brow furrows. He looks upset and confused, but his demeanor remains calm when he responds, “What do you mean?”
“I’m not… I can’t…” my heart begins to race and all the words I want to say stick in my throat, so thick I can’t force them out no matter how hard I try. My eyes well up with tears and my chest rises and falls faster and faster along with the increasingly erratic pattern of my breathing.
“Cole… breathe for me,” he whispers as he gently places one hand on my chest. I flinch at first beneath his touch, but quickly soften when my body catches up with my brain and it registers that it’s just Riot.
“In… Out… In… Out…”
The sound of his voice soothes me, and I find myself regulating along with the evenly paced tone of his instructions. When I’ve finally regained control of myself, I pinch my eyes closed as I draw in a lungful of air, and exhale forcefully before I try again.
“There are things I need to tell you, but… I don’t know how.”
There we go Cole, one step at a time.
“Okay,” he responds softly, sliding his hand from my chest to my arm, lovingly squeezing my bicep. A tear rolls down my cheek as I prepare to show him all of my ugly pieces, and hope with everything inside of me that he doesn’t turn away.
“Most of the time when I was there… Down in that cell… They didn’t bother me. I was just left in darkness. But when they did come for me, Riot… it only got worse with every visit.”
