Page 110 of My Unfinished Heart

In my defense, I didn’t grow up the way some boys did. With the pressure to be a man. Be a man meaning don’t cry. Don’t be a pussy. Suck it up. Be strong. Grow a pair. Man up.

While I was aware of those particular rules for little boys and influenced accordingly as I grew up in all boys’ schools, they never really applied to me.

The rules laid down for me had been different. Shut your mouth. Don’t ever speak. Don’t you dare touch anything. Don’t you dare touch me. Eyes down. Look sick.

Even if I could convince him to stay, Tristan doesn’t need this shit.

“I’m sorry,” I say, but the truth is I’m humiliated.

He slides his hand underneath my arm and presses it against my chest, over my racing heart. He turns me around to face him. “I’ll tell you how to keep me, Archer. Are you listening?”

I nod, but I’m having trouble looking him in the eyes.

“Buy me my own toothbrush. That’s it.” His other hand lifts to stroke my cheek. His thumb rubs along my jawline. Soothing. Apologizing.

I grab his head and bring it close to mine, brushing my nose alongside his, holding his forehead to mine. Breathing his breath is so much easier than breathing my own. Maybe that’s why I’ve missed him so much.

“I’d actually like an electric one. The sonic kind? I used to have one, but I left in it Houston the last time I was there.”

“Anything you want,” I promise him.

“So, what I think I’m hearing you say is, you feel a lot for me, too.”

I nod, gulping down some more of my overactive emotions.

“Okay,” he whispers. “That’s okay. We’ll do this, then. We’ll figure it out together.”

“Are you sure?” I ask him.

“Oh, I’ve always been sure. You don’t ever have to worry about that.”

“Thank you,” I whisper.

He responds with his own whisper. “I’m not wearing any clothes.”

He’s not. I allow myself to appreciate this fact now that I know he’s not going anywhere. I run my hand down his back, settling on the curve of his ass.

“There you go,” he says. “Good boy.”

Fuck. My dick thickens as he steps closer to me.

I whisper, “You’re all I want, Tristan. It’s always been you. I didn’t understand… I get so fucking lost.”

“I know. I know you do. But then I just keep finding you.”

I hug him so tight, damn near falling apart again from his forgiveness.

“I don’t want to lose you again, either,” he says. “Not ever.”

“You won’t.” It’s a promise. “We’re stuck together now. Only one way out of this fishbowl.”

He huffs a laugh and presses himself against me. I feel his cock, hard against mine. “So, this is it then? We’re a thing? We’re like—Tristan plus Archer minus whoever’s toothbrush that is?”

“Will you please forget that fucking toothbrush?”

“I will if you will.”

“Obviously I already did, or I would have thrown it out before you got here.”