22
OAKLEY
I drovemy car to Wimberley, so I have to follow Silas home. He’s treating the speed limit like it’s a cute suggestion, so I can only hope he’s as desperate for my touch as I am to touch him.
By the time I park, he’s already made his way past the elevator vestibule to the hidden entrance to his condo. He leaves the door open, and I catch up with him and Cupcake in the living room.
He’s standing stock-still in the middle of the room, facing away from me. He sways when Cupcake nudges his calf.
“Silas…”
“You really trust me?” he asks, his voice small.
“Implicitly,” I say with as much feeling as I can muster, taking a step closer.
“And…” He turns his head slightly. “You really wanna be with me?”
Oh, Sy.
“I’m falling in love with you so fast…” I move a half step closer, needing to touch him again. “I can’t imaginenotbeing with you.”
He stops swaying. Gives me another barely there glance over his shoulder, still not making eye contact.
“You are?” He shakes his head like maybe he misheard me. “You’re falling in love with me?”
I take another step forward, so close I can smell the shampoo he used this morning. “I couldn’t stop it if I tried.”
He begins swaying again.
“Silas…please. May I touch you?”
He nods.
Letting out a relieved breath, I drag him back against my chest and wrap my arms around him. It’s been less than twenty-four hours since he had asked me to leave, but that is still far too long.
“Do you think your parents will really be able to accept me?” he asks, and God, that question breaks my fucking heart.
“I don’t know, but they promised to try. And they’ve never lied to me.”
“But what if they don’t come around?” Silas leans against my arms, as if testing whether or not I’ll hold him. “What if your dadcan’tcome around?”
I tighten my grip.
“That doesn’t change how I feel about you. I love my parents, and they will always be in my life, but so will you.”
He’s strung tight like a bow, his anxiety buffeting us in this dark living room. I realize, belatedly, that he’s afraid.
I place a soft kiss on the top of his head. “What scares you the most right now?” I whisper into his hair.
He presses back against my lips. Just enough that I know it’s intentional. Just enough to detect the delicate tremor running the length of his body.
“It’s a tie,” he finally admits. “I’m terrified I’ll hurt you, and I’m terrifiedyou’ll leave me.”
I hate how he’s internalized this notion that he is evil. Or even remotely leaveable.
“You will never hurt me. And you’ll just have to believe me when I say I have no intention of leaving you.” I pause and think through my words. “I can’t make promises yet about a romantic relationship, but you will always be family. And in that way, I will always love you. But I do want more. And I am prepared to work and fight for more.”
That much was true.
