Owen took a deep breath. “I love you.”
Matt went utterly still.
Owen felt as though the words had been waiting for him to stop being afraid enough to say them.
“I love you,” he said again, quieter this time. “I think I’ve loved you for longer than I knew what to call it.”
Matt’s eyes glistened again. “You really mean that?”
Owen gave him an almost disbelieving smile. “I’m kneeling in a hotel room in Edinburgh after travelling for over seven hours across the country because I couldn’t bear another night without telling you.” A tear slid down Matt’s cheek, and Owen brushed it away with his thumb. “So, yes. I really mean it.”
Matt let out a shaky breath, then laughed through the tears, and the sound broke something open inside Owen that had been clenched for two weeks.
“I love you too.”
Owen closed his eyes. Hearing those words didn’t feel frightening at all.
They felt like the simplest thing in the world.
He held his arms wide, and Matt leaned into them. Owen pulled Matt tight against him.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered.
“You nearly did.” Matt pulled back enough to look at him. “I meant it. Don’t do this again.”
“I won’t.”
“And if you start thinking you know what’s best for me?”
Owen smiled. “I’ll ask you.”
“Good.”
“And if you tell me I’m being an idiot?”
Matt grinned. “I probably will.”
Owen stroked Matt’s hair. “I’ve missed you.”
Then he closed the gap and kissed him. Not the careful little kiss Owen had allowed himself to give him during those awful two weeks. This one held everything he’d been denying, everything he’d been afraid to say, and filled with the certainty he should have trusted from the beginning.
When they finally parted, Matt rested his forehead against Owen’s. “So what happens now?”
Owen smiled. “Now I stop deciding for you.”
“And?”
“And you tell me what you want.”
Matt pulled back and studied him for a moment.
“You.”
Owen closed his eyes. “That’s a good start.”
Then Matt made it perfect by kissing him again.
“Are you hungry? Have you eaten?” he murmured between kisses.