When he was all tucked away, he turned back to look at me where I was watching him over my shoulder. He was pulling his shirt on over his head when he told me, “For the record when you need me gone, all you have to do is say so. My feelings aren’t going to get hurt.”
I stiffened and opened my mouth to argue, but the sharp glint in his eyes wouldn’t let me. “It’s not that I want you gone, Dom,” I motioned a hand between the two of us. “This is intense and happening really fast when I just convinced myself it shouldn’t happen at all. I’m just trying to catch up.”
He put his hands on the mattress and bent forward so that he could give me a hard kiss. “Then say that. Don’t make excuses.”
I scowled as he made his way over to the yellow IKEA chair where he had thrown his jacket. “It’s not an excuse. It really is a family thing.” Not my blood family but family nonetheless.
He fished his phone out of his pocket and took a minute to scan his notifications. When he looked up, he had his keys in his hands and a serious expression on his darkly handsome face.
“For the record, whatever we’re doing isn’t a race, so there is no need to keep up. We already decided we’re in the middle, and if you feel like we’re rushing, then that means eventually we’re gonna hit the finish line. Keep that in mind, Lando.”
Realizing he was dressed and ready to go I pulled myself up off the bed and told him to give me a minute. I took a quick shower and threw on a pair of jeans and fitted gray sweater. I was never much of a T-shirt guy. Probably because I spent the majority of my youth and adulthood in a gym. I wanted my clothes to look like actual clothes and not stuff I could just as easily work out in. I scrubbed my teeth and combed my hair down and even though it all only took around twenty minutes Dom had obviously gotten bored and wandered off to check out the rest of my house. It was a cute little Venerable cottage I had paid more for than I wanted to in the Highland area of Denver, but the craftsmanship and flat-out love for the older home that the seller had put into it couldn’t be ignored. I snapped the gem up the day it went on the market and hadn’t bothered to haggle.
My house had a lot less black than his did. I liked some color but I did have the requisite flat screen that covered the wall over the fireplace and a few signed jerseys that were matted and framed, that keep the space from looking anywhere close to overly styled.
Dom was standing in front of a wall that had a few pictures of my family on it and one of my favorite pictures of me and Remy from when we had first moved in together. We had our arms around each other, and Remy’s best friend, Shaw, in all her adorable blond glory, was hugging us both. For a long time Shaw had been the only person in Remy’s life that knew about me, that knew about us. The three of us looked happy, like nothing in the world would stop us from living the lives we were meant to live. How quickly that had all changed.
Dom tapped the picture and looked over his shoulder at me. “He’s the football player in your office, too. Who is he?” I shouldn’t be surprised by his keen perception. It was part of his job after all.
I found my own coat where I had abandoned it along with all my common sense in my rush to get him naked and to get myself inside of him last night.
“Someone that isn’t in my life anymore.” I hated talking about Remy, hated having to admit out loud that he was dead, that I would never see him again, that the world would never be touched by his beautiful and warm nature ever again.
Dom gave me a questioning look and followed me to the front door. “Not in your life but still on your wall and in your office? And if I had to guess I would say the reason you no longer like football.”
I bristled a little as we both slid into my car. The weather was steadily getting colder and I was going to have to swap out the sports car for my SUV in the next few months. I kept the big four-wheel drive stashed at my folks’ until the weather really called for it, but I loved my Jag.
“He was someone that once was my whole world. Not anymore.” It was so hard to say “because he died.” The words always seemed to get stuck in my throat.
“So it ended badly but you cared about him enough to keep a reminder of him in plain sight wherever you look?” Dom was trying to put the pieces together, but he couldn’t solve the puzzle when there were major pieces of it not even on the table.
I cut a look across the car that practically begged him to quit asking questions about this particular subject and about this particular man. “It ended as badly as anything can end and I thought I would never get over it.”
He was quiet for the rest of the ride across town to his apartment. When I pulled up in front of it next to his truck, I heard him suck in a breath and then let it out slowly. “So did you?”
“Did I what?”
“Did you ever get over it?” He asked the question carefully like my answer could very well break apart this fragile thing we were building between us.
I rubbed my thumb over my lower lip and contemplated the truth. When someone you loved died, was taken tragically with no room for resolution or good-bye, it wasn’t something you forgot or moved on from. The guilt stayed with you. The remorse covered you. The what-ifs buried you under mountains of possibilities but eventually you learned how to function with all of those anchors holding you down. Was I over Remy’s death? No, and I never would be, but I had come to terms with my role in it and in his life. That had been a battle hard fought and I wouldn’t ever take that progress or self-growth lightly.