“Hi,” Dawson murmured. Even with the distance between us, and the not-so-great connection, his voice rolled over me like honey, sweet and familiar. “Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas indeed,” I said, trying not to grin too big into the phone. “God, it’s good to hear your voice.”
“I missed yours, too,” Dawson said. “I miss you.”
He’d never said something so blatantly open and vulnerable before—and right off the bat. Not even talking around it, like he usually did. I bit my lower lip, and on the other end of the line, Dawson’s breath caught like he just realized what he’d said.
“I miss you, too,” I said. “How’s the last week going?”
“It’s all gone by so fast,” Dawson said. “But it’s good—I’m ready to come back, I think.”
“Yeah?” I asked. “You feel ready?”
“I’ve learned a hell of a lot,” he said. “Talk about a crash course.”
“I know,” I said with a laugh. “I remember it.”
“Not a lot going on today, though,” he said. “They’ve got a movie marathon going on in the common room. Lots of hot chocolate and cookies.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad. Not too different than what we’re doing here.”
We caught up briefly—Dawson gave me updates on the rest of his plans for the day, the silly decorations and the movie marathon lineup. I gave him the abbreviated version of Priest’s cabin reveal, and Dawson sighed, a blend of regret and happiness at the narrative.
“It sounds really great,” he said. “I wish I could be there.”
“I wish you were, too,” I said. “But you’re right where you need to be.”
“I know,” Dawson said.
“And I’m proud of you,” I said.
Dawson huffed a laugh. “Thanks,” he said. “I’m—I’m proud of me, too. And being away from you, and Brennan, and the club… it made me realize how much of a source of support and stability you all are for me. I’ve never really had that, before. Not to this extent, at least. But I couldn’t see it before, wasn’t able to let myself have it. And now that I’m away… I miss it. I miss all of you.”
“I miss you, too,” I said again. It was so easy to say it now, and I wanted to say it over and over again. “But we’re not going anywhere. Keep doing the work, and we’ll be waiting for you when you’re back. I’ll be waiting.”
“Knowing that has helped me more than you know,” Dawson said softly. “And—it has been a lot of work. A lot of work. But I really think once I’m back—I’m ready to be more than I was. Ready to be a partner. A good one. An equal one. If—if you’ll still have me.”
“Dawson,” I said into the phone with a smile. “You already are those things.”
Another disbelieving laugh, warm and soft in my ear. “You really think that?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I do.”
“Well, I guess I have to live up to it then.”
“I guess you do.” I smiled into the phone, and I had the sense that he was smiling, too.
22
Dawson
I stepped outside of the glass doors of the rehab facility, took a long, deep inhale of the crisp winter air, and swung my duffel over my shoulder.
It was January first.
A new year, and—all cliches aside—a new me.
The work I’d done over this month hadn’t changed me, not really. It’d just help me sweep aside the bullshit, the pain, the misery. It’d helped me address the real cause of my hurt, and actually do something to address it, instead of simply trying to numb myself into nonexistence. I felt clear-headed and ready to face my future head-on. Maybe a little intimidated about what it’d be like to restructure my life without the crutch of booze—and how to explain and manage my sobriety around the club—but I was ready to handle it.
Then, the sound of a door shutting caught my attention.
Sparks danced over my skin, drawing out goosebumps. It was the sensation of being watched, the same sensation I’d felt at the clubhouse, lingering on the jobsite after I’d finished working for the day so I’d run into Nix and get to feel his eyes travel hungrily over me.
For a moment I delayed looking up. Part of me was still worried about seeing him again—we’d been talking a lot, but so much had changed. And our relationship was inevitably going to be different, too.
But that was the old me that was scared of change, wasn’t it? I didn’t need to hide anymore. I could handle a little change. I could even embrace it.
Nix stepped around the front his truck, parked just off the awning by the glass doors. I looked up and met his eyes, smiling.
God, he looked gorgeous, dressed in that familiar leather jacket, a beanie, and jeans clinging to his muscular thighs. He crossed the distance between us like a shot, and before I could even take a real breath, he was wrapping his arms around me and hauling me in for a hug.
Something inside me released—something I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding onto. I slumped against him, leaning all my weight against his body, and he held me up with ease, with both arms around me and his fingers scratching gently through the hair on my nape.
“Hey,” he said, his voice low in my ear.
He even smelled good, woodsy and rich, and I tucked my face into the crook of his neck to inhale that intoxicating, familiar scent. “Hi,” I said. “God, I missed you.”
“I missed you, too,” Nix said. He carded his hands through my hair a few times. The touch soothed my nerves.
Finally, I was home. This was home.
He gently guided my head up, met my eyes, and kissed me. It was a sweet, nearly chaste kiss, just his lips capturing mine, lingering but not deepening.
Then he pulled away and smiled at me. With both hands on my shoulders, he gave me a discerning once-over. I grinned, flushing under his gaze, still reeling a little from the kiss. From how unexpectedly deeply it’d affected me.
“Wow,” he said. “You really look great.”
“I put on some weight, that’s for sure,” I said, a little embarrassed. I’d filled out a little at the facility, adding muscle to my arms in the weight room, and some fat over my abs from a month off work.
“Looks like you needed it,” Nix said with a grin. “Not that you weren’t good-looking before, but, wow.” He whistled low.
I shook my head, disbelieving, and then hauled him in for another kiss by the lapels of his leather jacket. This kiss was deeper, a little more heated. His tongue swept across my lower lip, then into my mouth, as he wound his arms around my neck. God, I’d missed him so much. Texting him daily didn’t compare at all to actually having him in my arms.
And now, with his body against mine, the month apart felt suddenly more real. Like I couldn’t get enough of him. Like I hadn’t realized how much I’d needed him until I’d felt his lips on mine.
“You ready to go home?” he asked as he tipped his forehead against mine.
“I think I already am,” I said.