29.

TWENTY-NINE

Dominic

“Good,” Noah says into his phone as I disable the security system and somehow get my numb hand to open the front door. “Thank god. Yeah, they’re both okay.”

I’m not so sure about that. When I hit the switch and the chandelier floods the entryway with light, I see Rafael’s pale skin and soaked clothes and how he’s shivering. I see his haunted eyes.

I’m furious with him. I want to scream at him. I want to shake him and hit him and throw him on the floor. But mostly, I want to get him warm.

Rafael asks, “The others? Are they …”

“Dante and Rocco are fine,” Noah replies when Rafael seems to lose his train of thought. “And they got him.” To me, he says, “You need help?”

“No.”

I only need Rafael. I lead him up the sweeping staircase and down the over-decorated hallway to my very impersonal bedroom. I turn on a lamp.

I hate this room like I hate the whole house, but at least I have clean clothes in here.

Rafael angles toward the bathroom. When I snag his wet sleeve, he says, teeth chattering, “Sh-shower.”

I shake my head. We’re too cold. Warming up that fast is dangerous.

“Bed,” I say. “Take all that wet shit off.”

While he starts getting undressed, I snag some towels from the bathroom. As I start drying his hair roughly, he leaves off undressing himself to work on my clothes.

We’re sloppy and uncoordinated, but we eventually get undressed and kind of dry. I pull back the covers on the obnoxiously grand four-poster bed. As Rafael gets in, I turn on the heated blanket and crawl in after him.

Our bodies entwine automatically and we cling together, shivering. I don’t know how long we’re there before Noah comes in. He stuffs hot water bottles under the blankets. Without a word, he leaves.

Slowly, we stop shivering.

I’m still freezing, so I’m sure Rafael is too, but I can think now, and feeling is prickling back into my limbs.

“I’m angry with you,” he says, his face still pressed against my neck.

“I’m angry with you too.”

“You left without telling me,” he accuses.

“I did it because I didn’t want you around him. Not until I had him secure, under my control. I didn’t want—fuck, I didn’t want him back in your head.”

His head whips up. His gray eyes bore into mine. “Is that what I get for being honest with you earlier? For letting you see me fucked up? Now you think I’m weak and can’t handle—”

I clamp a hand over his mouth. His eyes flash, but I can’t let him say that shit. And I need him to know the truth.

“I did it because I fucking love you, Rafael, and I wasn’t thinking beyond wanting to protect you.”

Fear flits through his eyes. They track me, question me. He wants to believe me, but he’s afraid. Love has been so twisted for him. He doesn’t trust it.

I don’t really either, or at least I didn’t for a long time. My mother said she loved me, but she left. She told me that my father could give me a better life than she could, that that was why she was leaving me with him. Because she loved me. It was a lie. It was her excuse to herself.

And my father … The only thing I can say for him is that at least he never lied—because he never claimed to love me at all.

I wanted him to, though. As much as I hated him, I still wanted him to love me. So I understand craving something that you distrust. I’m not sure I even believed love really existed until I felt it for Rafael.

Now I know it’s real.

I wish I could say all of that to him, but I can’t. I’m not ready. I can only give him the simple truth and hope it’s enough.

“I love you,” I tell him again. This time, I see it reach him. His eyes soften and swim with tears. I take my hand away from his mouth.

“Fuck, Dominic,” he gasps, “I love you too.”

My throat tightens. Fuck, I’m going to cry. I pull him into me again. His arms tighten around me in return, and we both start shaking even harder than when we got out of the pool.

It’s too much to hear, for both of us, and I don’t think I could handle this moment with anyone but him. I don’t think I could let anyone but him see me this vulnerable.

It’s strange how it feels like freedom and safety at the same time.

It feels, I guess, like love.