Page 63 of Mine
“I’m being serious here; I don’t ever want to taint your success with who I am.”
“Don’t worry about that. Let me handle my business, all right?”
“Lan—”
“If anything, it will make me seem more romantic.”
“Crime is not romantic.”
“Did you see The Godfather? It is romantic.”
“Did you see Donnie Brasco? It’s not.”
He started laughing again.
“You need to listen to me. I—”
“Just,” he said with a sigh, squeezing me tight, “you’ll talk to Gabriel when you get back and you’ll tell him what you’re scared of and you’ll see what’s what. You don’t even know what he really wants until you get home.”
And he was right. “Yeah, I guess.”
“We’re not breaking up because you want to do the noble thing for me,” he said, his voice dropping low in warning, the edge there, dark and twisted. “You will never get away from me; you should resign yourself to that now.”
“Lan––”
“I’ll kill you and then myself, that’s a promise.”
The way he said it, so matter-of-fact, I really should have worried.
“Trevan?”
“Idiot,” I grunted, kissing the whorl of his ear. “Never want to leave you. I’m just worried.”
He exhaled out his worry.
“I’m concerned about what’s going on with Gabe.”
“We should go home, then.” He sounded so hopeful. “We could go tomorrow.”
“You need to talk to your folks, and then we can.”
“Tomorrow at brunch I’ll talk to them, and then we can leave tomorrow night.”
“Unless something changes, that’s a plan.” He yawned loudly, and I chuckled. “You’re really cute.”
“I am not,” he barely got out since he yawned again. “And thank you.”
“For what?”
“For explaining to José who I was.” He sighed happily, his lips brushing over my jaw. “You always tell people that I’m with you, and I love it.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Just take the damn compliment.”
“Yessir,” I said, moving my hands, sliding them into his hair, pushing it out of his eyes so I could see his face, however faintly, in the darkness. “Hey.”
The sound he made was almost a purr.
