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Another sharp head-shake. “You don’t want me here, Elliot certainly doesn’t want some stranger here, and I’m only taking up space and food.” He put his book down, slid off the bed, walked over to his bag, and pulled out his tablet. “I’ll just—”

I put the bowl on the dresser and crossed the room in two steps, putting my hand over the screen. “Stop.”

He didn’t look at me. Wouldn’t look at me. His hands were shaking.

So were mine.

“I want you here,” I said softly, firmly.

“You don’t.”

“Yes, I fucking do,” I snapped back, emotion and exhaustion fraying my temper to a lot shorter than usual. “It’s fucking selfish, but I want you here. I want to know that when I do manage to get back here, you’re here. I want to be able to crawl into bed with you and feel your arms around me.” I let out a heavy breath, trying to speak around the thickness in my throat. “Taavi, God-fucking-damnit, you are the one thing that keeps me from losing my shit, and there is nothing—nothingI want more than to have you here with me.” I swallowed, scrubbing at my eyes with the hand that wasn’t blocking his tablet screen. “It’s just not fair to you.”

He didn’t say anything, just leaned into me, and I pulled him into my arms, my heart breaking as I felt the hitch in his breath.

“Taav… I always,alwayswant you with me,” I whispered into his hair.

The problem, of course, was that I needed to be in two places. I needed to be with Elliot, who was going through absolute hell, and I needed to be with Taavi. And I couldn’t do both at the same time. So I had to pick.

How the fuck was I supposed to do that? My best friend, the closest thing I had to a brother, going through the absolute fucking nightmare that was his father’s murder… Or the man I wanted to spend the rest of my life with.

Elliot was my past, but I really, really wanted Taavi to be my future.

“I’m so, so sorry,” I whispered into his hair.

He didn’t say anything, just sighed, his breath warm against the fabric of my shirt.

I couldn’t ask him to forgive me, because tomorrow I was just going to fucking do it again. I was going to get up and go back to Elliot’s dad’s house, and I was going to sit on the floor or at the kitchen island or on the couch with my best friend, and we were going to sort through a dead man’s stuff while I tried to figure out how to catch the assholes who’d killed Gregory Crane.

And I was going to leave Taavi with my parents, again.

God-fucking-damnit.

“Taav?”

“Val.”

“I love you,” I rasped softly, “so much.”

Another sigh. “I love you, too,corazón.”

At least there was that.

I decided that the bowl would survive on my dresser until the morning, because I didn’t want to stop holding Taavi. Or, rather, I didn’t want him to stop holding me.

“Bed?” I asked him.

He nodded against my chest, and I moved with him over to the bed. He was already wearing a pair of sweats and—Oh.

One of my t-shirts.

It stopped me, and I stared down at him as he got into bed. He turned to look back up at me, his expression raw and vulnerable.

“You coming?” he asked softly.

I nodded. I didn’t have the right words. The words I was used to were harsh, rude, designed to build walls, not tear them down. I didn’t know how to soothe with them, didn’t know how to whisper sweet nothings, or sweet anything for that matter.

So I didn’t say anything at all, just stripped off my jeans and socks and crawled into bed. Fuck brushing my teeth, fuck putting on a pair of sweats or flannel pants, just… fuck everything.