Unshackled

To Shannon, all I could say was that we were beginning to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Eric and Ghost were getting closer, even though it didn’t feel like it all the time.

“As long as you’re being safe,” was Shan’s usual response. He didn’t want any details, which was why he didn’t actually know we were holding two Italians prisoner. He didn’t know how we were getting our intel, and he didn’t want to.

“Did it ever occur to you that if you knew more—if you got more involved—you wouldn’t be so worried?” I asked.

He nodded slowly and drummed his fingers absently against the back of the couch. “I do tend to worry about worst-case scenarios these days, but getting more involved would stir up a bunch of things I’ve managed to put a lid on in my head. I can’t handle any chaos right now, Kellan. My mind is the only battlefield I can manage.”

That made sense.

“You’ve been feeling worse lately, though,” I pointed out. “Something’s not working.” I reached for my smokes and a Coke on the table.

He grimaced slightly and stretched out his legs, his feet slipping behind my back. “That’s not related to Patrick. Or worrying about you and Finn, for that matter.”

I waited him out and mirrored his position in the meantime, my back to the armrest, legs outstretched alongside his, and ankles crossed. Then I lit up a cigarette and moved the ashtray closer on the table.

“Actually, it has everything to do with you,” he said with a soft, humorless chuckle. And he shook his head, visibly frustrated with himself for some reason. “I fear I’ve formed an unhealthy attachment to you, Kellan.”

Say that again?

He cleared his throat and scrubbed a hand over his jaw. “Logic tells me I need to move back downstairs and create a daily structure around my own life, not sit on the sidelines of yours and obsess over when you’re coming home.”

He couldn’t move back downstairs. I got that he needed the structure and whatever, but he couldn’t leave. I wasn’t ready. I wanted him here, with me, so I could keep an eye on him and…just have him close to me.

“It’s more than that, too,” he admitted, virtually dragging out the words. Forcing himself to be open. “I find myself thinking about you often, wanting to get to know the man you’ve become—”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” I blurted out. Fuck, he couldn’t leave. I could already feel the anxiousness bursting within me, all the while he was saying things I’d never dared dream to hear from him. Get to know me, be with me, stay here. I was so fucking screwed, it wasn’t even funny. Yet again, I couldn’t make up my fucking mind. I didn’t wanna go to France with him because I needed distance, and when he offered distance, I freaked out? Come the fuck on.

“It is if my interest is misplaced,” he replied patiently. “And that didn’t come out right. What I mean to say is, I always want to get to know you better, son. It’s the fixation that bothers me. Clinging to you in a desperate attempt to avoid the dumpster fire that is my life isn’t good for either of us.”

I took a couple quick pulls from my smoke as my mind began racing.

I’d never been this close to him before. I couldn’t lose that now. If anything, I had to make a choice, and for the first time, one of my alternatives was to go full steam ahead. To actually make myself available for him, to show him I wanted more, that I wanted him.

That was terrifying as fuck.

But when had I ever let fear stop me? The words my grandmother had spoken to me burned along my arm.

“May the rebellion in your blood save you from their shackles.”

Shackles came in different forms, for a million different reasons. It all boiled down to being true to myself, being open, daring to take a leap that would make me or break me. If I chickened out, I was putting those shackles on myself, and they didn’t make sense like they used to. Before, it was obvious. Shan had been straight and happily married, and our family ties decided we should be father figure and sons’ best friend.

I’d been such an idiot too, believing I would find liberty in the darkness with him only because I was able to express myself physically. But freedom wasn’t found in the dark. It was fought for out in the open.

“Tell me what you’re thinking, Kellan.”

What I was thinking. I was thinking that he was worth it, no matter the outcome. I had to jump, even if it wrecked me. I was a wreck without him anyway.

I raked my teeth across my bottom lip and smoked restlessly from my cigarette.