Page 121 of Stealing Home

“She gave birth to Lucia, but she means nothing to her. Or me.” He blinked against the sting in his eyes. “You’re the man I love. You’re the one I wanted here. Still want here.” He sighed and shook his head. “But I’ve got to tell you, between you and Talia, I’m getting really tired of people deciding what I need to know, when I need to know it, and then telling me what I’m thinking.”

“I’m sorry,” Gavin whispered.

“I know you are.” Dom meant it. He could see it in Gavin’s face and hear it in the way he struggled to get the words out. “Coming back doesn’t magically make everything okay.”

“No,” Gavin said immediately. “It doesn’t.”

“And I can’t just forget that this happened.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Gavin’s fingers curled against his thighs before relaxing. “I want another chance, Dom. I want one badly enough that I spent most of the drive trying to find something I could say that would make you give me one.”

Dom raised an eyebrow.

“There’s nothing,” Gavin continued. “I can apologize. I can tell you I love you, and I can mean every word of it. But you still got hurt. You get to decide whether you want to try again.” His voice broke on the last few words.

He stopped, swallowed, and made himself continue, “I hope you do. God, I hope you give me another chance. But I’m sorry whether you take me back or not.”

Dom rubbed a hand over his mouth and looked at Gavin.

“What happens if Talia calls again?” Dom finally asked. “Because she might, in the future, if Lucia wants to meet her or talk to her. I need to know I can tell you hard things without wondering if you’re going to leave.”

“I need to let you tell me, and I need to tell you when something bothers me.” Gavin straightened and crossed his arms, and Dom could see the determination on his face. “I have things I need to work through, and I never should have thought our relationship would be enough to fix my shit. I decided before I got here that I’m going to find someone to talk to.”

Dom studied him. “You can be scared,” he said. “You can tell me when you’re jealous or don’t know where you fit. I’d rather have a hard conversation than spend another night wondering if we’re even together.”

“We’re together if you still want to be.”

Dom’s throat tightened at how carefully Gavin said it. Always giving him the choice. “I do.”

Gavin shut his eyes briefly.

“But I need some time with this,” Dom added. “I don’t know if I’m going to wake up tomorrow and be angry all over again.”

“Then you can tell me again tomorrow.”

“And you’ll listen?” Dom narrowed his eyes.

“Yes.”

He looked at the hand resting on the counter next to his. There was a small nick near Gavin’s thumb, already healing. Dom traced the edge of it before he could talk himself out of touching him. Gavin held his breath and didn’t move.

“I missed you,” Dom said, so quietly he barely heard himself.

Gavin turned his hand beneath Dom’s and let their palms meet. “I missed you too.”

Dom stared at their joined hands. The relief in feeling his touch again was almost embarrassing, but he tightened his fingers. “Can you hold me for a minute?”

Gavin’s chair scraped as he stood. “Always.”

Dom got to his feet, and Gavin waited until he stepped close before wrapping his arms around him. He settled one calloused hand on the nape of Dom’s neck and pressed the other firmly between his shoulder blades. Dom pressed his face into Gavin’s neck and inhaled deeply. He hadn’t intended to hold on so hard, but Gavin drew him closer instead of loosening his grip, and Dom’s breath caught as he exhaled.

“I’m still mad at you,” he muttered.

“I know.” Gavin’s mouth brushed his hair. “I’m still mad at me too.”

Dom’s fingers curled into the back of Gavin’s shirt. “Just don’t let go yet.”

“I won’t.”