Dreaming in Color Cameron Dane (ebook reader library TXT) 📖

raced around the side of the house, his heart beating triple the pace of his churning legs. “Colin!” Please say you forgive me. Speeding up the path to the beach, Marek nearly tripped in the sand in his effort to get to the dock, where a boat came to a stop. “Colin!” He put his hand to his forehead to block the glare of sunlight.

A shorter, stockier man emerged from the side of the taxi-boat, and Marek stalled to a stop, his heart plummeting into his stomach.

“I'm sorry.” Tag appeared, hoisting himself to the dock. “It's just me.” The taxi-boat pulled away, and only Tag remained. “I'm here to get Colin's things, and to take the speedboat back for him. I understand you have the keys?”

“Oh.” Stabbing disappointment lanced Marek in the chest, and he dropped his gaze as shame filled him to the brim. He knows everything. I can see it in his eyes. Even if he couldn't, Tag could surely see the bruise forming on Marek's cheek. “Of course. Come with me.”

Marek led the way, and Tag fell in beside him. The men walked up the stairs to the porch; Marek let them inside, and started up the steps. “His bag and things are in the bedroom.” Finally, Marek could speak of intimate things about a male partner, to another person. Only, he no longer had the man he wanted to be with at his side. Too little, too late. He walked into the bedroom and couldn't stop the image of Colin sleeping in his bed from filling his mind. Christ. Marek's throat scratched with the loss. I miss him so fucking much already.

“Marek? Dude?” Tag's voice yanked Marek out of the welcoming picture in his head. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry.” Marek forced his feet to move and slipped Colin's duffel bag out from under the bed. “I tossed the boat keys somewhere in here too.” While making his way to the wardrobe, Marek glanced at Tag where he stood at the door. “Check that dresser right near you there, will you?”

Nodding, Tag moved to the chest of drawers and did as asked. A few seconds later, he said, “Found them.”

“All right. I'll try not to keep you longer than necessary.” Removing a handful of Colin's T-shirts and shorts from the wardrobe, Marek barely resisted the urge to put them to his face and see if any traces of Colin's scent remained. The bed last night had been so full of Colin's spring-fresh smell Marek had gone down to the TV room to sleep on the couch. Once there, the talk they shared in the dark replayed in front of him repeatedly, and eventually he gave up any pretense of sleep.

A throat cleared across the room, and Marek looked up to find Tag watching him. “For what it's worth,” Tag said, “I really am sorry things are ending this way.”

Clothes clutched in his hands, Marek gave up any facade of detachment or cool. “How is he?” Marek grasped for anything, feeling like he could achieve some sense of closeness with Colin if he could just hear something about him. “Are you allowed to at least tell me that?”

“He's hurt, and he's angry.” Tag assessed Marek openly. Marek tried to stand up straight and not flinch through it, knowing he deserved much worse than what this man was showing him right now. “He's equally exhausted. He slept the better part of the morning away. He's with Jordan at the hotel right now.”

“Right.” Still feeling so raw inside, Marek busied himself with packing Colin's clothes. He didn't have anyone to talk to though, and Tag's sympathetic tone pulled him to speak. “I know it's not going to make any difference, but can you please tell him again that I am so sorry for everything. I know I should have told him everything from the beginning, but the thought of his reaction scared me, and I didn't know how to force myself to do it.” He went into the bathroom to gather Colin's toiletries. Returning, he slipped them in the duffel, zipped everything up, and handed it to Tag.

“Thanks.” Tag transferred the bag to his shoulder, and offered a small smile. “I guess I should get going.”

“Wait!” Marek strode across the bedroom to the wardrobe again. He opened one of the bottom drawers and withdrew the leather satchel. Closing his eyes for a moment, breathing through the fresh wave of loss, Marek walked back to Tag and adjusted the strap over the man's shoulder. “They're Beatrice's journals,” he explained. “Colin should have them. I want him to keep them.”

“I'll make sure he knows.”

“Thank you.” Marek lifted his arm in the direction of the door. “I'll show you out.”

The men reversed their steps through the house. At the front door, Tag stopped and looked at Marek. He held quiet for a heartbeat, then said, “Can I say something about all this?”

“Please.” Marek was surprised he didn't leap on Tag and beg for his wisdom.

“Colin is a lot like my wife. He might not say so if asked, but believe me when I say he is. Trust is a must with Jordan, but making sure she feels safe with me was the hugest obstacle I had to hurdle with her. And I'm not talking physically safe; fact is, that woman knows many forms of self-defense and can kick my ass.” Pride filled Tag's voice at that confession; earnest passion animated his face and had his hands gesturing as he spoke. “I'm talking about, does she feel safe enough with me to say whatever she thinks the second it pops in her head, without worrying how I'll react or if I'll mock or leave. I'm talking about, does she feel safe sharing her secrets or expressing her fears without worrying I'll use them against her. I'm talking about, when she's afraid, does she automatically turn to me before anyone else, because she knows I will do anything and everything to protect her and make it