Out of the Ashes (The Game 5)

And yet…I’d let my fears kill that fire.

The smell of smoke reached my nose, and I looked up to find Lee standing in the doorway with a cigarette between his fingers.

Sorrow washed over me in forceful waves, and I felt myself break in a way I hadn’t before. “I am so sorry for everything I’ve done, Lee,” I croaked. “I’ve been obsessed with my own jealousy. I’ve let it rule.”

He shook his head, then exhaled some smoke skyward before he locked eyes with me again. “You’re out of your damn mind if you think I’m gonna let you take the fall for our relationship ending, Tate. You can point to your insecurities all you want, but they appeared for a reason, and you’re not the only one who’s struggled with fears.” He took another drag from his smoke, his brow furrowed, his mind always working on his next words. “All it takes sometimes is one thing. One signal—and you set the course toward disaster. We never start with a clean slate. It’s wishful thinking. In my head, I started something new with you. In your head, you started something new with a man who’s never been able to stay very long. What were you supposed to think? And with the cards stacked against us the way they were—with our kinks and our assumptions… You can’t build a home on quicksand.”

I wiped at my cheeks. He made me so fucking weepy. Only Kingsley Madden could crack my chest wide open and mend my broken heart at the same time. His words blanketed me with comfort and stripped me bare; they forced me to face reality and gave me hope. It was as reassuring as it was discombobulating.

After putting out his smoke, he joined me in the room and squatted down right in front of me, planting his hands on my legs.

He peered up at me, eyes full of gentle gravity. “When we first got together, I told you that whatever happened to us, I wanted to be the best Master I could be for you. I said that even if we probably had an expiration date, you meant a lot to me and our relationship was real.” He dipped down and kissed my knee. “I’m gonna say something different now.” He lifted his gaze to mine again. “I love you more than anything, Tate. I wanna spend the rest of my life with you. I want to marry you someday. I want to collar you again—permanently, this time.” When he cupped my cheek, I tilted my head and kissed his palm as I let his wishes lift me off the ground. “You’re my love, my home base, and my property.”

“Lee—” I choked up and threw my arms around his neck. Could he stop making me bawl like a fucking baby?

He hugged me and shushed me soothingly. “We’re gonna make it, love.”

I nodded and whimpered. “I love you so much. I wanna do better, I promise.”

“We will, both of us. And we’re done placing blame,” he murmured with a hint of finality in his voice. “It doesn’t matter who fucked up when and where. Reactions, consequences—we learn from them, we don’t keep score. Deal?”

I couldn’t swear I wouldn’t slip and fall into some self-hatred along the way, but I was going to do my best to stay level.

“I’ll try,” I promised.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Kingsley Madden

“Wait, so they did that on purpose?” I asked incredulously.

“Yeah—can you believe that?” Tate laughed and buckled his seat belt.

I shook my head and backed out of the carport. Those sneaky little brats. Ivy had made me fucking miserable the day before yesterday when she’d come over with Chinese food. Now I was discovering that Shay had done the same with Tate. They’d forced us to the edge by pulling forth our memories.

It was kind of difficult to summon any ill feelings toward them, though. We’d been heading in this direction already, but they’d sped up the process, and now I had my boy smiling next to me. We were on our way home.

Greer had done me a big favor this morning. He was gonna find someone else to cover for me as a dungeon monitor tonight because Tate and I needed time together. We had so much to talk about, and the ground underneath our feet was still too shaky. We’d have to catch the next Halloween party.

“Nope, too much distance.” Tate unbuckled his belt again, only to slide closer to the middle seat. The only thing he liked about my ancient truck, he’d joke sometimes. The bench seat. “This is better. Too bad you can’t hold me.” He eyed the gearshift behind the wheel with a sour look.

Some things never changed, and it was like coming home. He liked to bitch about my truck. Even though only ten years separated us, it was enough for our upbringings to have been different. I’d restored my own vehicles from the moment I’d gotten my license. He was a Metro kid who sometimes drove his pop’s run-of-the-mill sedan and freaked out at the idea of driving a stick.