Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 87284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87284 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 436(@200wpm)___ 349(@250wpm)___ 291(@300wpm)
Yeah, my grin was gone. That was too sobering—and painful. And true.
“My point is, I’m not here to take you away from anything,” he murmured. “Or anyone.”
Unease spread within me, and I sat up straighter.
“The truth is, I’m not strong enough at the moment to take us on twenty-four seven,” he admitted. “We’ve hurt each other for so many years, Macklin. If we want to stand a chance at building something lasting, we need to go slowly. We need to start over. We need to hash out every fight, every mistake—and we have to get to know each other as the men we’ve become.”
That should bring me a lot of comfort. Everything he said made perfect sense. And yet, I was the insecure jerk who ran all over the board. I wanted him closer, I wanted distance, I wanted to play with others, I wanted Lane, I wanted to close myself in with Walker and shut out the rest of the world forever. Preferably on his boat.
Resting my forehead on my knees, I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing. Somehow, we had to work this out. I wanted nothing more. I missed him so much that I hurt everywhere, but I didn’t know where to begin when I couldn’t even stand still. And Walker was the one who’d centered me. Our lifestyle as Master and sub had been the unwavering rock I could lean against, and now, that was gone. So I floundered. I’d been floundering…for four years.
Exhausted didn’t come close to describing my state.
I sniffled as emotions welled up, and I couldn’t fight the intense wave of sorrow that washed over me. What if we were too late? What if we’d ruined too much and there was no recovery?
“Talk to me.” He shifted closer and placed an arm around me, and then I felt his lips on my shoulder.
“I don’t know what to say,” I croaked. Goddammit, now I was crying too. Could I never keep it together? “I just miss you. I’m so fucking angry and sad and tired all the time, and I never know if I wanna punch you in the face or beg you to hold me.”
He breathed deeply, still pressing his lips to my skin, and rubbed my back absently. “I suppose that puts us on the exact same page for once. Come here.”
I whimpered as he finally gathered me in his arms, and I was quick to crawl between his legs and fuse myself to him.
“I miss you every single day we’re not together, love.” The thickness in his low voice told me he was raw from our emotional roller coaster too. “I even miss your monarchy rants and how you forced me to watch Downton Abbey with you.”
Oh God, that crap just made me weepier. Those were some of my favorite moments—and he was a lying dick. He’d been hooked on that show. Totally invested. We’d watched the whole thing together more than once, often as a Friday night marathon with good food and wine and laughter. Because I was a hardcore shipper of Lady Edith and Sir Anthony Strallan, and Walker was the tool who’d been all pragmatic and “He’s too old for her.”
Fucker.
“I have Archie on my side,” I said, a sniveling mess. “He gets me. The day he messaged me the link to an Edith/Anthony fanfic, I almost sent him flowers.”
Walker rumbled a chuckle and squeezed me to him. “He’s Greer’s new partner, isn’t he?”
I nodded. “He’s amazing. You’ll like him.” Feeling a little bit better, I wiped at my cheeks and sat up more so I could face him. Ugh, sand fucking everywhere. Before we returned to the others, I was throwing my ass into the ocean.
Walker took over and brushed away my tears, so I dropped my hands to my lap.
“We’re worth saving, pet.”
I swallowed and nodded. We were. We had to be. “Don’t be mad at Dean, though. I know we’ll fight about it, but—”
“He was a willing participant, but that’s beside the point.” He cut me off gently but firmly. “I have to figure out why I’m mad about it first. It’s not jealousy or the fact that he’s my brother. I’m not jealous about you and Lane either, for that matter. I think…” He trailed off with a sigh and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “You were always different, Macklin. The rules I’d played by with previous partners just didn’t cut it once I was with you.”
I knew that. It’d been the exact same for me.
“It’s a hierarchy thing for me,” I admitted. “I’m not equipped to love equally. I need to be the primary of the one who’s my number one, and I think it’s because my heart is absurdly monogamous when the rest of me isn’t.”
That earned me a smile, and it was all sorts of sincere and full of relief. As if he hadn’t believed he was my number one or something. At this point, had we not proven that with four years of pining?