A Guy's Thanksgiving by Skylar M. Cates

Author:Skylar M. Cates [Cates, Skylar M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Gay Romance
ISBN: 9781627985031
Publisher: Dreamspinner Press
Published: 2015-11-04T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

MAC STEPPED back, and Conor’s heart broke. He had told himself to expect rejection, yet he’d still hoped. He sagged against the wall in defeat.

“Don’t,” Conor pleaded. “That kiss—”

But Mac’s face contorted with such anguished feeling, Conor stopped speaking.

Confronting him had been a shite thing to do. He should have attended his art show and stayed hiding in the back of the room. Who did he think he was to go after Mac like a steamroller? Conor winced. He’d thought he’d matured over the years, but Mac made him as strong willed and arrogant as a teenager. Conor should’ve e-mailed him, asked to see him. Oh no, not him! Conor had only thought with his heart, and his heart wanted today.

He’d wished for a second chance for too long to wait one more moment. When he’d seen Mac, anticipation tingled all over him. He was deflated by Mac’s reaction but not done. Perhaps Mac would think poorly of him for it, think him some crazy stalker or needy slob, but Conor refused to be done.

He still loved Mac, the way one did with their first love, especially if it ended because of lousy circumstances and not because of anyone’s fault, so when he saw him, everything in Conor gave way. Yes, he was more mature now, and he could act like an adult if Mac refused him. His life would go on. But if Mac would give him a chance, Conor would worship him.

As much as Conor longed to make love to Mac again, a different part of him wanted to simply hold him. To stroke his forehead and hair. To tell him everything was good. Not to worry. None of it was his fault.

He gazed into Mac’s eyes. From the moment they met, something in Mac’s face had compelled him to understand what lurked in those quiet dark eyes. Conor had wanted to sculpt him and capture Mac’s graciousness, for Mac had a quality that could not be imitated or faked: kindness.

Did he have it still? God, his heart was pounding. What was Mac going to do?

“That kiss went too far,” Mac said. His gaze flicked away.

“Not far enough,” Conor mumbled.

He shook and told himself to breathe.

“What do you want?” Mac asked.

Conor stiffened. “I don’t know….”

Liar.

He forced another answer out. “A chance?”

“A chance,” Mac repeated, his expression grim. But it communicated something beyond that, something struggling to the surface. Mac had tears in his eyes. “I’m glad you told me about your mother and why you left for Ireland so fast. I wondered a long time if I wasn’t enough, or if I’d done something….”

“Mac, no—”

“I’m happy you told me, and I really do forgive you. But as for the rest—” He motioned jerkily at himself and then Conor. “—as for the rest, it’s too late to matter.”

“No, it’s not. I screwed up.” He started to bow his head and then thought better of it. He kept his gaze on Mac. “I want to fix things.”

“Some molds, when they break, can’t be fixed.

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