Love Him Breathless

by E M Lindsey

  He was home.

  His body jolted as the plane’s wheels met tarmac, and he squeezed his eyes shut.

  He was home. Except, he wasn’t.

  The plane started to taxi toward the gate, so he pulled out his phone and turned it on. For a moment, as it booted and connected, he held his breath thinking maybe—just maybe, Parker was wrong. Maybe, Antoine left but Fitz wasn’t ready to let him go.

  His screen lit up with two messages, but they were both from his brother.

  Marcel: Hey, Colton got his schedule situated so call me when you have time.

  Marcel: See if there are rooms available at the Lodge.

  Antoine closed his eyes and banged his forehead against the window. “Fuck. Fuck,” he whispered. And maybe it was a mark of his own selfishness that he’d forgotten about the brother he had missed like a limb. Maybe Marcel was always right about him.

  He waited until he was at baggage claim before he hit Marcel’s contact, knowing his brother was likely awake. “Hey,” Antoine said when Marcel picked up. “Sorry it’s so early.”

  “I was just making coffee. You okay?”

  Antoine glanced at the baggage carousel which hadn’t started moving yet. “Um. So, I had to go home. To San Francisco.”

  There was silence for a long moment. “Okay. Was it because I didn’t want you to come here?”

  “Shit,” Antoine said, feeling like he’d been punched. “God, no. I deserved that from you. I just…things happened. I met someone, and everything fell apart. I had to get home to sort shit out.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?” Marcel asked.

  Antoine hated how genuine his brother sounded, mostly because he knew he hadn’t earned that sympathy from him, even as he appreciated it. “Not really. Only…maybe?”

  “Where are you right now?” Marcel asked.

  Antoine backed up toward a set of benches and sat down, hanging his head low. “SFO, waiting for my bags.”

  “And then what?”

  He laughed, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Then I have to go home, sleep off jet-lag, and finish the town’s website.”

  “And then?” Marcel pressed.

  “What are you getting at?”

  Marcel laughed quietly. “I know the tone in your voice, Antoine. I know what comes next, I just want to hear you say it.”

  He bit the inside of his cheek so hard, he tasted copper. “I’m leaving. I’m quitting my goddam job and selling the fucking condo and I’m going back.”

  “Yeah,” Marcel said from behind a sigh. “I’d call you an idiot, but we both know pot and kettle.”

  “Everyone I’ve talked to says it’s worth it,” he said, sounding a little desperate now. He jolted when the carousel began to move, but he stayed back while the rest of his small flight crowded in to find their bags. “Everyone says they didn’t regret their choice to give up everything for a maybe. I know you don’t.”

  “No. No, I don’t,” Marcel breathed out.

  “So, why is it so fucking terrifying?”

  “Because love has the ability to hurt you—to wreck you—worse than anything else in the world. And it’s hard to imagine that the risk of having your heart ripped to pieces is worth it.”

  “But he is,” Antoine answered, gutted by the absolute truth in his statement.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to finish the website for Rene because he’s a good person and he’s worked really hard to get this town back on track. I’m going to call this realtor I somehow became friends with and I’m going to ask her to find me a place to rent in Cherry Creek.”

  “Are you going to call him?”

  “His name is Fitz, and I don’t know. Because he wanted me to walk away.”

  Marcel was quiet another moment. “It sounds like he’s worth the fight.”

  “I wouldn’t burn my life down for just anyone,” Antoine told him.

  Marcel laughed. “I know. Be safe. I’ll come see you when you get back.”

  When, not if, and the fact that Marcel had that much faith in him was enough. “Talk to you soon.”

  They didn’t say “I love you”—they rarely ever said it. They didn’t need to. They were still pieces of each other, even if they’d become two wholly different people in the end. And that was okay. Antoine needed it that way. It finally, and for the first time ever, left him open to the sort of love that always terrified him to his core.

  But Marcel was right about that one, very important thing. Fitz was worth it.

  “…and all of the photos have been officially approved,” Antoine said, staring at Joseph who looked, if anything, bored out of his mind.

  “Well, they gave us a fat check, so your commission is decent.” He clicked his pen before setting it down and shoving the laptop away from him. “I have a couple more assignments if you…”

  “No,” Antoine said. His mouth felt dry, but it didn’t matter. “No…um…I have something I need to tell you.”

  Joseph blinked, then threw his head back and laughed. “Right. Okay.”

  “I’m serious.” Antoine ran his hand through his hair, dislodging his carefully styled locks. “Things have just been a lot lately and I need a change.”

  “You’re dying?”

  Antoine narrowed his eyes. “No. I’m not fucking dying.”

  “Did Grant’s daughter give you something? What’s her name, Jade? I fucking warned you about sticking your dick there, Tremblay.”

  “What the hell is wrong with you?” Antoine swore he saw red for a moment, and he forced himself to breathe. “No, I’m…it’s not about that, okay? I just need something new.”

  “You vacation for a living,” Joseph said, and he rose from behind his deck, placing his palms on the polished wood as he leaned forward. “What the fuck more do you want? You want an assignment on Kuai? I have like four.”

  Antoine clenched his teeth. “No, you shithead.”

  “Then what are you trying to say?”

  Antoine blinked at him. It might have been the first time in his life he’d ever pushed back against the man, and maybe that’s why Joseph looked like he wanted to burn Antoine alive with his glare. But it didn’t matter. None of it fucking mattered. He was done.

  “I quit.”

  Joseph started to laugh, but when he saw the way Antoine had set his jaw, he stopped. “You’re shitting me. You quit? You can’t just…I will destroy you. I will destroy your shot at ever working anywhere.”

  It was Antoine’s turn to laugh. “You do that. You do whatever you want. I’m leaving.”

  He knew what would be next, if he didn’t make his move carefully, so he bypassed his office and took the elevator down to the lobby. His jacket was still in his office, and his laptop. He had a few files he’d like to get, but none of that was more important than getting the hell out of there and never looking back.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “I could drive. I mean, it wouldn’t take me that long. And Rocco drove here, and Simon went in his car when he left.”

  Ronan gave him a flat look. “You’re not driving.”

  Fitz swallowed thickly and looked at the doors to the massive, imposing building, his stomach twisting into knots. “I could.”

  “Get out of my fucking car, Edmund,” Parker told him, reaching over to give him a shove.

  Fitz gripped the door and didn’t move. He didn’t fly. He’d flown like three times in his entire life, all of which happened before he was old enough to drive. At the time, it had been fun, but now…

  “Are you telling me you’ll literally climb ninety feet up a ladder into a burning building, but you can’t get on this plane?” Parker demanded.

  Fitz clenched his jaw. “I didn’t say it was rational.”

  Before he could open his mouth and tell them he was canceling his flight, Parker twisted in his seat and used his prosthetic hand to grip Fitz by the chin. His robotic fingers were always oddly more gentle than his flesh ones, and Fit
z found himself leaning into the touch.

  “Tell me what you love about him.”

  Fitz blinked at his friend. “What…”

  “Tell him,” Ronan ordered.

  Fitz swallowed thickly and pulled away from Parker. “He’s not afraid to be mean to me.”

  “Yes,” Parker said.

  “He’s beautiful. He makes me smile without even trying. He also makes me want to scream and put my fist through the wall and I shouldn’t love it, but I do.”

  Ronan chuckled. “What else?”

  “I hate waking up without him. I barely had him in my arms but he’s all I can fucking think about.”

  Parker laid his hand on Fitz’s knee and held tight. “It’s going to be fine. You have his address, you have his number. The worst he can do is tell you no.”

  Licking his lips, Fitz glanced back out the window. They’d gotten there hours early, because Fitz needed those hours to talk himself into getting on the damn plane. “What if he won’t come back? What if he doesn’t want me?”

  “Then you come home,” Parker said.

  Fitz stared at Parker’s black mechanical knuckles curled over his knee. “What if he wants me…but he doesn’t want to come back to Cherry Creek?”

  “Then you stay with him,” Ronan said quietly.

  Fitz wanted to open his mouth and ask why he was so easy to let go, but he knew that wasn’t fair. He knew that’s not what it was. They were letting him go because he had a chance to be happy. For once, this was it. For once, the person was worth leaving his life behind if he had to. He didn’t want to give up Cherry Creek, or his home, or his job. He wanted to be near his sister, he wanted to lend a hand with Owen, with whatever he had going on.

  But Antoine was worth this. He was worth the compromise—the sacrifice.

  He’d come to that conclusion the morning he woke up on Parker’s couch, half-hanging off the cushions, an imprint of a prosthetic hand pressed into his cheek that lasted almost the entire day. He woke up with a promise on his lips, and one he meant to keep. So, he bought the ticket, then talked to Birdie, and then called his friends.

  And now they were here.

  “You’re not going to lose us. You’re not going to lose anything,” Ronan told him, reaching between the seats to take his shoulder. “You said yourself he deserves this chance.”

  “Yeah.” And he meant it still, even if he was shit-scared and ready to bolt.

  He didn’t. He made himself stand on shaky legs, and he grabbed his carry on, and then he left his friends behind because if they crossed that threshold with him, he might not be strong enough to let go if he needed to. If Antoine needed him to.

  He knew what Antoine wanted. He wanted someone who was willing to put him ahead of all the bullshit that kept everyone else back. Antoine needed to be important, and he was. To Fitz, he was. To Fitz, he was worth putting one foot in front of the other and entering the building.

  To him, Antoine was worth the twisted stomach and the shaking hands through take off, the long flight, and careening over a wall of sea and rocks until he was safely on the ground again.

  The landing was more terrifying than the take-off, though the whole flight had his stomach in so many knots, he wasn’t sure if he’d ever be able to untangle. But he made it in one piece, without the plane falling apart, without losing his mind. They flew over a vast bay with dark water, over an outcropping of rocks that met still water, and then they were on the ground.

  Fitz’s knees were almost knocking together as he scrambled off the plane, but once he was on solid ground, he calmed. He had one mission, and that was to convince the love of his life that the future was worth living with him in it. He didn’t have a lot of confidence in himself, and he was already second guessing his decision to just show up there, but it was a gesture.

  Parker and Ronan had a point.

  Antoine was worth a gesture.

  He had a single text thread on his phone he was using as his lifeline, and he checked it as he waited in the line for the rental cars.

  Fitz: Hey, can we talk? Or are you at work right now?

  Antoine: I’m actually at home today but I’m in the middle of something. Can I text you when I have time for a chat?

  Fitz: You can text me anytime.

  Antoine: Thanks.

  It wasn’t a declaration of love. It was proof of nothing more than Antoine hadn’t decided to kick Fitz out of his life in spite of three long weeks of silence. It was a small beacon of hope in his sea of despair, but it was enough. Fitz felt like he was losing his mind as the line barely moved, but soon enough he was handing over his card and jumping into a little car with GPS in the dash.

  He pulled up the address he’d managed to get out of Rene, with the help of his husband who apparently had a soft spot for tragic romance stories. Fitz vowed to never sell out the mayor for breaking codes of ethics and probably the actual law, and swore to be in his debt forever.

  That was also worth it.

  Fitz was wrecked with nerves as he started to navigate the busy, winding streets of San Francisco. Having never ventured far out of Cherry Creek, or even out of Colorado, the place felt foreign. The weather was nice, and the town was old-world, and he could see why Antoine appreciated it. Fitz had seen the ocean exactly once in his life, but it was on the Atlantic coast, and nothing like the sharp salt coming off the bay breeze.

  In the distance, Fitz could see a wall of fog rolling in, and he paused at the top of a hill to stare before a car behind him laid on the horn and he moved again. Antoine lived just outside of the main city, on a street where every house was pressed up against the other. They were like sardines in a tin with wide garages, pointed roofs, a single window looking over the street.

  He stayed a few houses down as he rolled to a stop, then he took in a shuddering breath and pulled his phone out of his pocket. His thumb hovered over Antoine’s number, then he closed his eyes and tapped the screen.

  It rang twice before Antoine picked up, and Fitz’s heart hammered wildly against his chest. “Hey, listen, I don’t mean to be a dick but…”

  “Not much chance of that, Hollywood.” He let the words roll off his tongue, hoping that the sharpness of them might be a balm to whatever wound was open between them.

  Antoine was silent a moment, then he laughed. “Fine. Whatever. Where’s the fire, Smokey?”

  Fitz grinned widely and laid his head back on the headrest. He took his foot off the gas and rolled another house closer, and then another. He could see Antoine’s address plate on his garage, the numbers engraved on a brass plaque. His car was in the driveway, a luxury SUV that he was willing to bet had all the bells and whistles.

  “Fitz?”

  He swallowed thickly. “I miss you.”

  Antoine’s laugh was softer, maybe a little sad. “Yeah? It’s only been a day.”

  “Three weeks and five days,” Fitz all but whispered. “I was such a fucking idiot.”

  “Yes.” Antoine was not going to pull punches, but Fitz needed it. “We both were.”

  “I was scared. I was…when I pulled you out of the water, it made me realized how fragile this all was. Not just you, but me. My heart. I’ve been pushing everyone away for so long.”

  “Like Chance?” Antoine asked.

  Fitz scoffed. “No, not like Chance. I thought I loved him until I set eyes on you.”

  “I,” Antoine said, then sighed. “Can we talk about this later? I’m kind of in the middle of…”

  “No.” Fitz closed the distance between himself and the house, then turned off the car and got out. He walked around to the front, then leaned against the hood and stared up at Antoine’s window. “Look outside.”

  “Oh my god,” Antoine breathed out, and then Fitz saw him, his face pressed to the glass. “You went full rom-com.” His voice sounded choked with emotion.

  “I did.” Fitz passed a hand down his face, then gave him a pathetic wave. “If you want me to leave…”

  “Sh
ut the fuck up,” Antoine snapped. He was gone from the window, and his breathing was heavy. “God just…shut the fuck up. Why are you always so…”

  The call went silent just a second before the door on the side of the house flew open. Fitz felt rooted to the spot just before Antoine was there, flinging his arms around Fitz, sending them sprawling into the rental car.

  He had only a moment to appreciate the warmth of Antoine, the presence of him, before a mouth was on his. Antoine’s fingers were almost cruel in their desperation as they wound into his hair, yanking the tie from his bun then twisting the strands around them.

  Fitz grunted, wanting it softer, but not willing to change a single second of it. He was in love. Shit, he was so, so in love. “We’re going to get arrested for public indecency.”

  Antoine laughed, pulling back, but just enough so he could speak right up against Fitz’s mouth. “My apartment is a mess, but you should come upstairs.”

  Fitz nodded, letting Antoine twist their fingers together, and he pulled him up from the car and toward the door. Fitz had never been in a building like it, but it looked like Antoine shared a main hall with his neighbor. Two sets of stairs veered off into opposite directions, and Antoine took the one on the right, hurrying up the steps to an open door.

  His place was everything like Fitz had imagined. For all the mess he claimed it was, it was neat as a pin. There was some décor, but mostly bookshelves and furniture arranged just so. But there were other things too—boxes, bags, a suitcase laid out on the sofa.

  Fitz swallowed thickly. “Are you going somewhere? Did you get a new assignment or…?”

  Antoine turned and bit his lower lip, his eyes narrow and full of hesitation. “I quit my job.”

  Fitz stared for far too long before speaking again. “You…”