“Yeah, I did want it. I do. But Q, right there at that moment when I heard you, I found out I could walk out that door—and never come back—if I was walking towards you,” he whispered, cupping Quinn’s cheekbones until their foreheads touched and all Rafe could see was Quinn’s face. “And it scares the shit out of me, Q. I’m not going to lie to you. You scare the shit out of me.
“You are everything to me, Quinn. Today I figured that out, and I’m sorry it took me so fucking long about it, but… when it’s all said and done, you’re kind of who I’ve been running from my entire damned life, because not having you—not loving you—made me hurt so much inside. All this time I’ve been trying to fill this hole inside of me, fucking around, drugs and shit, when what I should have done was just come home—and find you,” Rafe whispered into the tight space between their faces, the slice of air and shared breath that’d become their world. “I’m shit. I know that. I’m fucking nothing… especially compared to you. I kissed you because I need you. Because I finally fucking figured out—today of all shitty days for you—that I need you, and I don’t want to let you go.”
Quinn’s lashes flew up, fluttering black sweeps over his glittering green eyes. His breathing was shallow, held tight in his chest as he studied Rafe, his lips parted and glistening. When he finally spoke, the mists of an Irish forest followed, his thickening accent blurring the edges of his words. “You are not nothing, Rafe Andrade. Don’t you be saying that to me—to yourself, even—not to anyone. You’ve—”
“I was handed a fucking gift of a life, Q, and I screwed it up,” Rafe whispered over Quinn’s melodic rumbling. “Not good at school, hated the world, and the one thing I could do, I fucked it sideways and threw it away.”
“You have a chance again. With Damie and Miki—”
“I’d rather have a chance with you,” Rafe murmured, chuckling at Quinn’s sharp intake of breath. “Sure, I’d love to be a part of whatever the fuck Damie’s putting together, but if I’ve got to choose between you and them—even if you aren’t a sure thing and you want to walk away from me—I’m going to choose you. Just like I did today. Because apparently that’s what’s got to happen. I just need you to know that. I want you to understand the last thing in the world I’d do is hurt you—tease you or lead you on.”
“You never looked at me before,” Quinn whispered back, a soft reproach riddled with doubt. “Why now?”
“Jesus, Quinn. You think I didn’t look? I couldn’t help but look.” Rafe grimaced ruefully, recalling the sharp glances he’d gotten from Connor and Kane. “You were a kid. I wasn’t much more of one and a selfish asshole. Don’t look at me like that. It’s the truth. And let’s face it, your brothers would have kicked my fucking ass if I touched you when we were younger. You forget you were sixteen when I went on the road the first time? Looking was my best bet. Then leaving was the only thing I could do to keep sane.”
“Don’t think it worked,” Quinn teased, and Rafe smiled, seeing a lightness touching the edges of the dark lingering in Quinn’s mood.
“Today I was driving to get you, and it felt like I was choking down razor blades. I was that balls-out scared.” Rafe shifted on the bed, evening his weight out on his knees. His thighs ached a bit, muscles stretched out while he straddled Quinn’s thighs, but for the first time in his life, Rafe had Quinn Morgan where he wanted him, under him—mostly. “Not because I didn’t think you weren’t strong enough to handle what was going on. It was because I didn’t want you to be alone… and I wanted to be the one who was there for you. Like I should have been before.”
“We wouldn’t have worked before,” Quinn replied, his lips ghosting a kiss on Rafe’s thumb as it moved across his chin. “You needed to get lost, and I needed to get found. But now….”
“Now’s different, babe.” Rafe cocked his head. “I wandered off way too far before. I had to come back to you to find myself. Man enough to admit it. Man enough to know I’m shit without you. All of the noise and screaming inside of me just goes away when you’re near me. I forget about the crap that doesn’t really matter.”
He could have said more. Hell, Rafe knew he could have strung words together like a pearl necklace, but they wouldn’t matter much to Quinn. His magpie would be more interested in the glisten or a single drop slightly off color than the rest. He’d pick it apart to examine the knots, then laugh when it scattered, broken into a confetti splash of noise and sheen. The whole never mattered. Not to Quinn. Not to the man who saw into Rafe’s soul and knew who was there.
“No one else understands how much I need to play,” Rafe whispered. “Do you know that?”
“Pretty sure Miki and Damie do.” Quinn’s hands were light, gentle touches on Rafe’s bare chest, curving over the planes of his stomach with a delicate, feathery skim.