Page 16 of Bloom in Darkness

"Or," Caelan says behind me, "you could stop terrorizing Derrick."

I turn as Caelan pushes away from the wall, his attention moving over me once before settling on my face.

"I had asked you to help with one of the guys who thought he didn’t have to pay up on his bets, but I’ll get Lorcan on that.” He steps closer, his shoulders falling a little. “You smell like Astra. Is something wrong? You look like you’re about to rip someone’s head off.” I look back at Derrick, who is practically melting into his chair. Caelan follows my glance and jerks his chin toward the hall. "Give us a minute."

Derrick doesn't need to be told twice. Caelan waits until the desk area clears before turning toward the narrow concrete alcove beside the equipment lockers. "Come here," he says quietly.

I follow him, mostly because if I stay near the desk, I’m going to start demanding names from the card or put my fist through the drywall. The alcove barely fits both of us. Caelan leans against the cinderblock wall, folds his arms, and waits.

“What happened?” he asks.

“I want a fight.”

Caelan doesn’t move from the wall. “That’s what you want to do. I asked what happened.”

I crowd closer until my shoes nearly touch his and plant one hand against the wall beside his head. Caelan doesn’t move.

"Astra looks like hell," I say, the words grinding out of my throat. "He’s shaking. He almost fell over, and Sabine is riding him because he needed twelve minutes instead of five."

Caelan’s jaw tightens. “What did he say?”

“That he’s fine.”

He exhales through his nose, unsurprised. “Of course he did.”

I let out a frustrated growl. “What did he sound like when you talked to him the other night?” Caelan mentioned the call before, but I hadn’t thought much about it then.

“We spoke for almost an hour, I think.” Caelan’s mouth lifts. “Well, I did most of the talking. He was in the bath when he called. Then he got into bed and just kept listening until he fell asleep.”

A purr starts low in my chest before I can stop it. “You like him.”

Caelan unfolds his arms and puts his hands at my waist. “I do. But you’re not bringing a present home for us, Bryn. Whatever happens between you and Astra belongs to the two of you. I’m not assuming I get included just because you brought someone close.”

I lean into his hands, close enough that his breath touches my mouth. “But?”

Caelan’s gaze drops briefly to my mouth before he looks back up, his eyes dark and entirely too perceptive. “But I liked talking to him. I liked him at breakfast. And I like what he does to you.”

Caelan keeps his eyes on mine. “I need to know something, though. Is there actually an us? Do you want me, Bryn, or have we just been doing this so long neither of us bothered to ask?”

I look down at him. Caelan has been there for years. After fights, before fights, in my bed, and on nights when I couldn’t string two words together and he just sat in the dark with me until my hands stopped shaking. I’ve never given any of it a name.

I bring my hand up to cup the side of his neck. His pulse is beating fast against my thumb. “I’ve never told you how much I love you, have I?”

Caelan goes still beneath my hand, his fingers tightening at my waist while he stares at me like I’ve hit him instead of told him I love him.

“Bryn,” he whispers.

“I don’t do words.” My thumb moves along his jaw while I hold his gaze. “Fighting’s easier. Fucking’s easier. But I love you, Caelan. I want you. I have for years.”

Caelan swallows hard. His hand slides up my chest, his fingers curling into the fabric at my nape to pull me down. “You probably should have said that a long time ago,” he breathes, his voice rough.

I kiss him. Caelan grabs the back of my neck and opens for me immediately while his other hand slips beneath my shirt. I push him harder into the wall and grab his ass, hauling him against me.

Caelan breaks the kiss just long enough to breathe. “You waited until the fucking equipment hall to tell me that?”

I kiss him again instead of answering, swallowing his laugh.

A throat clears from the corridor. I turn with a growl. Derrick is standing about ten feet away with his tablet held against his chest and his eyes fixed firmly on the floor.