Rushed: Christopher (The Four 4.50)

Rush paused. “No, no you’re not. You just can’t see the truth even when it’s right in front of you.”

Frustration consumed me along with a hefty dose of doubt as Rush reached for the doorknob.

“I don’t understand!” I practically shouted. “You said you were falling in love. I saw the way you smiled right before you said it. Why won’t you just admit it?”

“Admit what?” Rush shouted back as he turned around but this time, he didn’t move toward me. “That I’m the stupid one for falling for someone who will never trust me because some fucker from his past hurt him too badly? That I’m the idiot for losing my heart to someone who will never accept what’s standing right in front of him?” Rush paused and ran his fingers through his hair. “I was talking about you, Christopher! In that fucking car yesterday… I was talking about you.”

I shook my head in disbelief, but there wasn’t a chance of me speaking because my throat had closed up tight.

Rush let out a sigh and then took in a few deep breaths, apparently trying to calm himself. When he did speak, his voice was quieter but no less passionate.

“As much as I want to hide and lick my wounds, I’m not going to. Not if there’s even a scintilla of a chance of getting everything I’ve ever wanted. The only way you’re getting me out of your life is if you can honestly look me in the eye and tell me you don’t feel even a fraction of what I feel for you. I won’t take anything less than that, Christopher.”

With that, Rush threw open the door and left the room. He didn’t even slam the door behind him. He just closed it, and that was it.

I was alone again. Even the ugly voice that had been stripping away pieces of my soul for the past six months was gone.

There was just… nothing.

CHAPTER NINE

RUSH

Admittedly, it wasn’t my finest hour. Or thirty minutes, rather, since that was how long it took before I heard footsteps on the stairs. In the time since I’d left the bedroom until I’d heard that first step, I’d been trying to keep myself busy so I wouldn’t return the room and demand that Christopher admit that what had happened between us was real and that he’d felt it too. A former boyfriend had once told me our breakup had left him gutted, but I hadn’t truly understood what he’d meant until this moment. I felt like someone had carved my insides out with a spoon, leaving behind my painfully pounding heart and a whole lot of nothing else.

How had I let this happen? Two days ago, I’d literally been standing in this same kitchen (minus the cooling cum in my shorts) living what I’d thought was a fulfilled life. Aside from the loss of my parents, I’d been enjoying what I’d been given. I loved my job, I’d been excited to move to a new city where I’d be closer to my friend and hopefully become a part of his large, extended family. My biggest worry had been trying to find a house with a big enough yard for my floppy-eared brood to roam when not snuggled up in the spacious rabbit mansion I was planning on building them.

Now life seemed like it was on hold and I had no control over anything. I’d wanted what my parents had had, but it had never occurred to me that I could lose my heart to someone who either didn’t feel the same thing or who bore too many emotional scars that couldn’t be overcome.

Once I’d realized that it wasn’t just attraction I was feeling for the troubled young man from four years earlier, my plan had been to take things slowly.

Turtle speed at most.

Crazily enough, twenty-four hours ago, my biggest concerns hadn’t had anything to do with getting past Christopher’s obvious walls. I’d been more worried about King’s reaction to my interest in his nephew.

Now, a mere day later, I’d learned Christopher’s biggest secret, given him his first kiss, and shared an explosive orgasm with him all before exposing my emotional jugular. I’d never told anyone I was with in the past that I’d loved them because I hadn’t. It was something I’d known I would need to be one hundred percent certain of before I said the words. Yet half an hour ago, I’d pretty much said them to a young man who, for all intents and purposes, had only just met me and who wasn’t in any position to deal with the admission.

“Fuck,” I muttered to myself as I got the burner going again. Once I heard the floor creak slightly near the kitchen entryway, I said, “I didn’t know what kind of eggs you liked, but the bacon’s done, so it will just take a few minutes depending on how you want them. Even if you’re not hungry, you need to eat. Those meds aren’t—”