Page 72 of Brought By the Storm

I felt a bit of anger rise. “Mean what, Carrington? That I want to jump on your lap? No, that’s not what it means.”

It was the second time it appeared Carrington had just been given a wallop upside the head. “I wasn’t suggesting…”

“I trusted you. You told me I could. You told me you trusted me! It was all bullshit, Carrington. As soon as something got a little rough for you, you turned on me. You wouldn’t even listen to me!”

He shook his head. “Yes, true…”

“I should have realized when you lied to me right from the beginning about who you are, that you lie about who you are!”

He nodded, then looked down at his hands. “Yes, all very fair. Mateo told me I don’t deserve you. He was correct, of course.” He looked back up, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I’m very sorry, Eric. I am sorry for myself, but even more sorry I hurt you.”

Carrington rose from the bed, grabbed his overnight bag then started for the door. I heard him sniff, accompanied by a soft whimper. He paused, maybe hoping something else would pop into his head to say, or maybe trying to regain his composure before exiting. Then he opened the door and left.

It was then that it hit me. I had seen the tear, and what I had heard was him crying…the man who had told me he did not cry. Nobody had ever cared that much about losing me. I recognized that if I didn’t act quickly, Carrington would be out of my life for good. Deep down, I knew that wasn’t the outcome I wanted. Before I could overthink it, I jumped out of the bed, ignoring the hungover queasiness that came with the action, then I bolted to the door. When I opened it, Carrington was just about to enter the elevator. I shouted his name, running down the hall.

His expression was hard to read because his face was red and puffy. But he didn’t enter the elevator. I ran up to him and hugged him. “Don’t go.”

Carrington’s cries became louder, and he pulled me into a tighter embrace, getting the side of my face and shoulder wet. “I made such a miserable mess of things,” he croaked, pulling away and moving his hands in the air like he didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m ruining my life. Your life. Stefan’s life. You’re better off without me, and that kills me because I want you so much.”

I pulled him back to me. “Shh. I’m sorry I was being a prick. It’s just, I was hurt.”

He nodded. “Of course. You had a right to be angry with me.”

I reached up to wipe his tears with my hands. He was getting the sobs under control. “Don’t cry. I don’t want to be the reason you’re sad.”

He barked out a laugh, though his face still showed pain. “Always wanting to please.”

I touched his chin. “I guess I’ll always want to please you.”

“Eric, you were right to reject me…” he started.

I moved my fingers up to his lips to silence him. “No, I wasn’t. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Carrington, I’m not going to lie and say that I can go right back to trusting you again. I’m not there yet.” He nodded with regret. “But my heart wants you anyway.”

At this point, the elevator doors opened and two women walked out, both eyeing the unusual scene. When they had walked a little distance away from us, I heard one say to the other, “Only in New York.”

Carrington sniffled, wiped his eyes then chuckled. “Um, you’re not dressed.”

I grinned. “To think that just a couple of days ago, I was nervous about you seeing me in my underwear. Now, I’m showing all of New York.”

He smiled back. “Come. Let’s finish talking in the hotel room.”

We walked back down the hall to our door. I looked at him. “Well, I’m not carrying the card key in my boxer briefs. Use yours.”

He stared back at me with alarm, but a bit of amusement as well. “I don’t have one.”

“Oh,” I gulped. “Well, that’s…embarrassing.”

Carrington shrugged. “No problem, I’ll text Stefan now to tell him of our predicament. He can use his key to let us back in.”

“Give me your shirt,” I demanded.

“What? I’m not removing my shirt. I don’t have an undershirt on,” he protested.

I rolled my eyes. “So what? You’re all over the internet shirtless. At least you’d have pants on, which is still more than I’m wearing.”

He chuckled again. “I think it would look worse if we were both half-dressed, don’t you?”

“Said the man who’s dressed.”