Page 186 of Whisper
Dan’s words kept circling and circling, trying to reach his heart.
I wish you would let me love you. I wish we could really do this.
I want to be the man who makes you happy again.
Couldhe be happy again?
There were moments he was. Mike, as infuriating as he was at times, made him smile. How had a masc meathead marshal like Mike and he become friends?
Because Mike reminds you of David.Parts of him, at least. Would Mike and David have been friends, if David were alive?
Why hadn’t Kris said yes when Mike pursued him? Why had he pushed him away, kept it friends-only between them? Would Mike have ended up being a hollow echo of David, sentenced to always be compared in Kris’s mind? Would he have lined up Mike versus David for the rest of their lives, had he pursued Mike?
There were other moments when he was happy, though. Moments with Dan. Dancing with him that night. The way their kiss had raced through every nerve in his body, lighting him up from the inside in a way no one else had, no one but David. Moments since, when he tumbled into bed with Dan. When they met for dinner, and he saw the curve of Dan’s grin over candlelight, or they shared a bottle of wine and laughed on Dan’s patio, watching the stars. Dan’s touch ghosting over his skin, over his lips, as he stared down at Kris in his bed. How their fingers laced together, held, as Dan made love to him. He’d always held back, but...
Maybe… maybe he could be happy again.
He panicked in the shower, then tore through his closet for the perfect outfit, putting on his makeup and eyeliner like he was going on the hunt. He was going out, forget the rest of his squad, Mike and Billy and Jon and Carlos and Aaron. He was going to find a man to bring home, fuck this panic, this heartache away.
But he didn’t make it past the bathtub. A hollow emptiness in the center of his chest had opened and opened, a zipper inside him ripping apart until he thought he was going to trip and fall backward into himself.
He was tired of it all. He was tired of being alone.
When he knew exactly what not being alone felt like.
When he knew how wonderful, how beautiful, how fantastical it was to be loved. To be in love.
Two hours later, and there he was, in Dan’s office with Dan’s favorite Chinese food. He finally looked up, into Dan’s gaze.
Dan’s face was hard, his expression locked down. Eyes tight. “Kris, you don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?”
“You don’t have to try and make everything fine. Pretend nothing happened. In fact, I’d rather you didn’t—”
“I’m not— That’s not what I’m doing.”
“No? What’s this?” Dan nodded to the food. “Look, you know how I feel now. I figured if I ever told you, you’d run away, and…” He sighed. “I just don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to pretend.”
“I’m not pretending. And I obviously didn’t run away.”
“Kris…” Dan looked away.
“I’m trying, Dan. I’mtrying. This.” He waved between them. His hand landed on a container of fried rice. “I’m trying, I am.” His eyes flicked up. Met Dan’s. “Us.”
Dan’s entire existence formed a question. He didn’t move, not a muscle, not a hair. Buteverythingchanged.
“I’m trying,” Kris repeated, softer. “So just sit your ass down and eat your damn food. Before it gets cold.”
Finally, Dan sat, pulling out his chair and collapsing like his bones had turned to jelly. Kris saw it hit him, that Kris had picked up his favorite food, from his favorite place. Kris looked down, picking through his lemon chicken as Dan tried to reset back to neutral. Dan had always been a case study in measured calm, an oasis of it, even. He’d been the center of Kris’s hurricane, ever since Kris had stepped off the LearjetwithoutDavid.
Maybe even before.
“Ryan giving you shit?” Kris steered the conversation back to safer waters. Shitting on Ryan was practically an Olympic sport for him.
Dan, diplomatically, demurred. “He’s ripping his hair out over this new threat.”
“You’re not?”
