Dreaming in Color by Cameron Dane (autobiographies to read .TXT) 📕

Colin turned to get back to work, and his attention caught on his e-mail home page. His mouse hovered over the icon for the unnamed folder where he had been storing the unopened e-mails from Marek, the little pointing finger just waiting for Colin to click. He understood Jordan's read-them-and-get-them-out-of-your-system taunt was a total ploy, but one she knew would work on him. Damn it.

The dreams continued to haunt Colin too, and the ongoing tie binding him to Marek wouldn't let him delete the e-mails, no matter how much in his waking hours he tried to convince himself he should. Colin could still feel grief in Marek when they came together in frantic sex during those hours of unconsciousness at night. He clung to the man with equal desperation, punishing his body with violent mating in an effort to connect in place of words that no longer existed between them, even in the dreams. At the same time, Colin's original fear for the faceless man's safety no longer existed in these newer dreams; there was an underlying strength and peace in Marek he could not deny.

Maybe he has moved on, and I need to look at these e-mails so I can too.

His hand trembling, his heart screaming with denial, Colin went back to the first e-mail and opened it.

Colin—Even though I can't feel it myself, I've decided you were right. This house is sad due to some serious neglect. I've played a part in that, and I plan to rectify it as best I can. I've contacted an architect to look at the place and help me make choices that will bring the house back to its original character. I know a pair of brothers on the main island who will be happy to have the contractor work and will be open to me being an integral part of the repairs. With only three of us, it won't go fast, but that's okay. I want my hands on all of it, and I want it right more than I want it quick. I'll keep you apprised on how we progress.

I'm sorry for not being open with you about everything that happened when we were teenagers, right from the start.

Love,

Marek

Opening the next, Colin held his breath, so uncertain about what to expect.

Colin—The architect came today. Her name is Hattie; she's Australian, and she called our house unique and charming. I think I like her already, and I feel good about the advisory role she will play. The wood slat siding will need to be replaced. It cannot be cleaned and painted over enough to hide the damage done over the years. That will likely be the first task. I have to say I think my body is looking forward to the challenging work.

I wish you could have been here to take part in the conversation, but I understand why you can't right now.

I miss you.

Love,

Marek

Colin steeled himself not to react to the plural possessive of ownership and read on. After reading a dozen or so more notes—about two months into the repair work on the house—Colin got something a little different.

Colin—It rained pretty hard last night, and we weren't able to safely do any work on the house today. That's okay. The guys and I probably needed a break. I hiked up the mountain to the waterfall instead, and it was nearly as beautiful as the day we went up there together. I jumped off the shelf, but it didn't feel right without you there, holding my hand, so I got dressed and hiked back to the house.

Jesus Christ. I know I shouldn't say this, and I'm probably risking Jordan even forwarding this to you, but I miss you so fucking much, sweetness. I wish I could feel the house and sink into those dreams of us like you used to do. At least I would have you in some way. This island isn't my home without you.

I've written more here than I promised Jordan I would. I'm sorry. I have to go.

Love,

Marek

Wiping the blur of wetness from his eyes, Colin moved to the next e-mail, dated a week later.

Colin—We're starting on the porch today. I can't believe I left it in such a bad way on that right side for so long. Now that I've been looking so closely at the house these last few months, I'm shocked the whole thing didn't collapse around me long ago. Christ, what you must have thought of me when you saw it in such disrepair the first time.

Anyway, when it's finished, I want to buy rocking chairs to put on one side of the porch, and a hammock for the other. I can't believe I've lived in Fiji for nearly two and a half years and I've never put my ass in a hammock in all that time. I think there's a science to them, and I'm kind of nervous I'll flip right out the second I sit down. One of the rocking chairs will have your name on it, waiting for you.

I didn't know it was possible to miss you this much, and I don't know how the hell I'm staying away from the airport. Everywhere I turn, I feel you around me, but when I reach out my hand, you're not there. I'm not sure if that's some form of madness or just… Never mind.

Love,

Marek

Colin's heart squeezed so tightly he could barely breathe. But there was no way he could stop reading, even for a second, and regain control.

Colin—I was thinking about Stewart and Beatrice today; I'm not sure why. Maybe it's just working on the house and thinking about Stewart building it with pride, knowing he would live in it with his bride. I hope they're pleased with what is happening to their home recently. Hattie says what we've done so far is a nearly flawless refurbishment of the original specs of the house, and she can't believe the change. The blue tiles to replace