Page 95 of The Saint

“These your friends too?”

I nodded at Tyrone’s question, then gestured back toward Lev, Jamal, and the guys. “Might be good for you to head on back.”

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

“Catch you later?”

“You better. You owe me a game.”

Tyrone headed back to his friends as I walked toward the approaching motorcycles. Hector was the first one off his bike, tearing his helmet off as he went.

“You called?”

I shook his hand. “Thanks for coming.”

He dipped his head. “That’s what friends are for.”

Lev, Dieter, and Abe came to my side, and I was just finishing introductions when Shaw’s voice filled my ear.

“You might want to turn around.”

Doing as she said, I glanced down the sidewalk that cut through the park behind me. Rolly was there, one foot in the grass, the other on the cement, his pale eyes narrowed as he looked our way. I was moving before I thought to. It wasn’t until his lips flattened into a straight line that I realized I wasn’t the only one.

Beside me were Lev and Alvarez. My heart rate quickened as I saw Rolly’s eyes darting to each of them in turn. He’d once been jealous of Alvarez, but I thought he’d put that behind him. But now he had that same look on his face.

“Rolly!” I yelled as the man I loved took a small step back. My walking turned to a run, slowing only when I was close to him.

“What’s going on, David?” Rolly’s narrowed eyes glanced over my head, lingering here or there before finally falling to me.

The distance between us felt fatal. I wanted nothing more than for him to gather me in his arms, to hold him close, to scream at him to never do this to me again.

“You’re a jerk.”

He lifted his chin, though not his gaze. I put my fingertips to his chest, giving him a tiny shove.

“I went to your apartment,” I told him, and suddenly my cheeks heated and my eyes burned. I wanted to hide, thinking of that painting, of how he saw me. I shook my head. “I didn’t know.”

“Know what?”

Forcing myself to look at him, I told him, “That you felt that way. That you saw me like that.”

“I always have.”

“You never said.” It came out just a whisper, but I couldn’t have said it louder if I wanted to. Because I realized how stupid I’d been my whole life.

Rolly was a quiet man. He hid his feelings and used his actions instead of his words. I should have known. I should have understood the enormity of his confession when we’d lost our virginity together.

You’re perfect, Jael David. I love you so much.

I should have listened. I shouldn’t have run away, left the country, cut him out of my life. Rolly grew up in a family where love and affection were everywhere, where his father greeted his mother by gripping her face and kissing her senseless every single day.

I was witness to this, yet when Rolly did the same thing to me, I couldn’t see the truth. As much as my life was about action, I’d been waiting for words.

Rolly eyed the crowd behind us, his lips pressed together. And I recognized it for what it was. He was processing what I’d said. Sifting through it and putting it in its rightful place inside his head. He needed time as much as he needed to believe the words.

Words.

Actions.