Page 23 of Eight of Swords, Part Two

That makes Lachlan smile. ‘You said that once.’

‘Said what?’

‘Doesn’t matter. The point is that it’s hard being around you.’

‘Why is it hard?’

Quietly, he says, ‘You know why.’

‘I don’t. You’ve never said it.’

‘You and Mimi were my life.’

‘Don’t use her to dilute it,’ Kade says, following his instincts. ‘You never fucking said it, Lachlan. It’s hard being around me because…?’ he trails off, inviting an answer, needing one.

‘Kade.’

‘Last night, you told me I had no idea how many lives were ended because of how much you love me, but you never answered my question. Your boy had a crush,’ he whispers, ‘but what about you?’

Lachlan gradually softens all over, surprisingly vulnerable when asked directly. Kade wonders if he’s trying to make up for shutting down so hard last night or if skirting it has genuinely become exhausting.

Maybe both.

‘Of course I love you,’ Lachlan confesses.

Oh God.

A bright burst of thrill spirals in Kade’s chest.

Four words create light and fear, fizzy dread and sparkling joy.

‘You love me?’

‘I’ve always loved you, but the difference,’ Lachlan adds swiftly when Kade is poised to demand further clarification in a very specific direction, ‘is that you don’t love me. That’s why it feels wrong.’

‘I think,’ Kade says slowly, ‘my body remembers loving you.’

It’s a monumental thing to admit, but once said, it settles instantly where Kade can accept it. Lachlan’s strange, heedless intensity makes it easier to admit crazy-sounding things. When he looks at Lachlan, he gets a second hit of that bubbly feeling because, holy shit, no one has ever looked at him like that. Dark grey eyes convey feelings that words never could, flaring bright with delicate hope, and the tiny dent in his brow speaks of something pained, something desperate.

Roughly, Lachlan asks, ‘How does that feel?’

‘It’s confusing, but not in a bad way. Mostly, it creates conflict.’ Kade rubs his eyes. ‘I really wish you hadn’t come in here the way you did.’

‘I thought these were the people who killed you.’

‘I know that, but still. It’s complicated now.’

Riley returns with a tray holding three plates, two of which he sets down in front of Lachlan. He doesn’t toss or drop them and adds clean cutlery too.

‘Here you go.’

Atop the big plate sit four searing-hot sirloin steaks. The second, smaller one holds a stack of French toast identical to the one he passes to Kade.

Lachlan seems grudgingly impressed. ‘Wow.’

‘You’re incredibly welcome,’ Riley quips, sitting beside Kade once more. ‘Anything else I can get you? Dessert, maybe?’

‘How about go fuck yourself?’