Collaring Chaz (Dante's Infernal #2) - Joel Abernathy Page 0,79

me, and I held my breath, because I wanted him to. Instead, he pulled his hand back and stared at me in that same way I’d come to look at him, like something he had no idea what to do with.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he finally said, his voice a little rough. “It was like that night at your apartment all over again. I can deal with you not being in the band. I hate it, but if it makes you happy, I can deal with it. I can deal with you hating me, and not wanting me in your life, even if it’s torture--but I can’t deal with living in a world you’re not in.”

His words caught me off-guard. I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but...not that.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I murmured. Now my voice felt a little rough, too. “And FYI, I don’t hate you. I gave it a valiant effort that would make Atlas look like a total slacker, but I don’t.”

“I see you haven’t given up the mythology either,” he said in a flat tone.

I smiled, still having a hard time keeping my eyes open. The fact that it was him made it possible, because I’d missed too much of him to waste time blinking unnecessarily, let alone sleeping. “Turns out, I didn’t have all that many angst songs in me, so I had to get inspiration somewhere.”

He blew a puff of air through his lips, and this time, he did reach out. When his hand pressed to my face, warm and real, I knew I hadn’t braced myself at all. After the kiss I’d stupidly fallen into backstage, it shouldn’t have felt like anything, but it did. It made my traitorous skin flush, and the heart monitor ratted me out by picking up tempo, but I couldn’t care about any of it more than I cared about the fact that he was here.

After everything, he was still here.

“What the hell do I have to do to get rid of you?” I asked, bringing my hand up to cover his.

His lips quirked at the corners. “Sorry, but you can’t. That’s not how selling your soul to the devil works.”

“I thought you said Drake let me out of my contract.”

“He did,” Raf answered, sitting on the edge of the bed, his thumb sweeping away a few strands of hair tickling my face. “But I’m not so forgiving.”

It took me a second to realize what he was talking about. When I did, I scoffed a laugh. “I don’t think that one’s gonna hold up in court, Raf.”

“Probably not,” he agreed. “But I’m holding you to it all the same. Letting you go was the biggest mistake of my life, and I’m going to spend the rest of it kicking myself for being such a fucking dumbass, but I realized something these past few months while I was ‘giving you space.’”

“And what’s that?” I asked, telling myself I was just too tired to argue when the truth was, I didn’t want to. My heart ached the same way it had that day, when I’d given him the final ultimatum I’d been regretting plenty myself. I thought it was for the best. I thought it would be easier, for both of us.

I was a fucking idiot. But I’d never claimed otherwise. It might have been the primo drugs, or just wishful thinking, but for the first time, I was able to see him without the love goggles--and while there was plenty of idolatry left in my heart that belonged solely to him, I realized that he was just as bad.

We were both fuck-ups.

So fucked up that maybe, just maybe the idea of us belonging together wasn’t as far-fetched as it had always seemed.

“I’m not a good person,” he said quietly, caressing my face. “Not good enough to let you go, even if it’s probably better for you.”

My chest kept tightening, making a full breath seem like a pipe dream. “You always were kind of a dick. That’s the main thing I realized these last few months. That and apparently I’m mental. Maybe we’re a decent match, after all.”

He leaned in and kissed me before I could stop him, or muster up the denial to pretend I wanted to. Instead, I just kissed him back, ignoring the quickening drumbeat of the heart monitor. My fingers slipped into his hair like they belonged there, and even though I couldn’t breathe, the kiss felt far more essential to life