Chapter Forty-Five
“I will not lie to you. You are not an easy man to care for—to love—but that does not mean you aren’t worth it. I have not known peace since we were teenagers . . . I have never known peace, at least not while loving you, Jensen. But that doesn’t stop me from loving you.” Her words strike like a physical blow. Forcing me to lean back before the irony of them truly takes root.
This is the one fucking human on this planet who can bring me to my knees. She allows me to feel peace. Or whatever resemblance of peace a man like me is allowed to know. My peace is the woman who I have—and always will—love with every fiber of my being. Yet, she has not known peace since the day she fell in love with me.
If that doesn’t explain how fucked up I am, I don’t know what does.
I have no doubt loving me—or attempting to love the parts of me I allow her to see—is exhausting. She has loved me even when I made it impossible. She loves me even when I give her every excuse not to, which is why her words only corroborate what I have always known. Her words verify what I sensed the moment I shot off that damned midnight text barely over a week ago when I begged her to fly out here.
“Jensen.”
Just hearing her saying my name breaks my heart, hearing the tremble and hurt I caused her in her voice. Not once, but twice now.
“Mhm?” It’s a coward’s response, but the only response I can muster. Explaining myself or making excuses won’t change what I have done or how I have repeatedly hurt her.
Blue rimmed hazel eyes barrel into my own, demanding to be seen, pleading to be heard as tears threaten to fall down her cheeks.
“You were never what was expected.” Serena states before running her hands through her mess of wavy hair. “You are a constant contradiction to yourself: kind to a fault one moment, then incredibly selfish the next. Stunning to look at—a modern-day work of art in my opinion—so fucking beautiful, but with tragically broken smile.” She offers me a small smile. “You are my hero and villain all wrapped neatly into one person. You’re always making yourself your own worst enemy, fighting invisible demons you thought only you could see. You never realized—or perhaps just blissfully ignored—the fact I was ready to walk through hell, ready to slay whatever dared to try and harm you. I’d fight alongside you if you only allowed me. Slaying your demons is what I was made for Jensen, fighting for you and your peace. Because it is in you that I find my own peace. I lied. It isn’t that I haven’t ever known peace while loving you, it is that I have only ever felt peace when you’re at peace. Which we both know is a rarity . . . ”
The tear that finally slips from her lower lash is enough to send me spiraling. Enough to cause me to lose all composure. The words start tumbling out of my mouth before I can fathom what the consequences might be, but she has to know. At least once, she needs to hear how I truly feel. She needs these words from my sober lips, not drunken bitter words, broken promises, and lies meant to shove her further away, to save her from me. From the reality of who I am in the end, what I have become and the harm I cause those I love so dearly. I can’t offer her a sober man’s words tonight, but I can offer her a drunk’s true thoughts.
“If I died tonight, the only regret I would have is you. If these were my last moments on this earth—I would use them to try and make you understand how fucking devastatingly beautiful you are.” I fall to my knees in front of her. Dropping all disguises, I allow her to see the truth I hope is shining through my eyes. “You are all that has ever mattered, Serenity. The only place I find an ounce of peace is with you.” Her hands slide into my hair, as if she also just needs to be closer, needs to feel me under her fingertips. Her nails start raking through my damp hair as a silent reassurance she’s here and that she is listening to my pleas for forgiveness.
“Why didn’t you just tell me? What did I ever do to make you feel so alone? To make you think you couldn’t trust me? That I would leave you or abandon you? Don’t you know how I feel? Or how I felt back then? I know—I know we were so young but . . . but it was real. This . . . this right here is real. So please, please just tell me what happened. Please tell me why you decided, after everything we had been through, to keep all this from me? To run away and join the fucking military of all things! You fucking left me, Jensen.” Serena’s voice cracks, causing my heart to break for what I put her through all over again.
“It was never you, baby. It’s all me. All my foolish choices . . . my pride . . . my guilt. I may not be a good man, but I want to be a good man for you. I repeatedly failed at being the man you deserve. I can make you no promises. I cannot offer you the grand gestures you deserve. I’m barely fucking surviving day-to-day. You have always been the light at the end of my tunnel, the small bit of sun shining through in the darkest of nights.” My voice cracks, quickly turning into a sob.
She stays quiet, her fingers still running through my hair.
“Please don’t hate me. Don’t remember me this way. You,” I choke on my words, “you were the last one to still see me for who I was—to still see me and who I am at my core. Before the alcohol, before the war stole what little goodness I had left in me. I have held on to the fact that version of me was still alive, even if it was in someone else’s memories—within you, Serenity.” My hands grip her waist firmly.
“I could never hate you,” she whispers while gently wiping tears from my face. Helping me from my knees to stand. I pull her to me, partially from my own selfish desire to touch her. I wrap her in my arms, leaving no room for escape before I kiss her. I kiss her until neither of us know where one stops and the other begins. Hands tangle within one another and our breaths intermingle. Our souls are still broken but broken as a whole.
I kiss her until she is a puddle in my arms, melting at my every touch. Knowing I can bring her some resemblance of pleasure allows me to breathe better, if only for a moment. Knowing I can erase some of the pain from my words and actions with my touch for even a moment—even if I may never be able to tell her everything—takes a bit of weight off my shoulders. I can’t force her to understand the entirety of my life, including my actions, has been for her and her wellbeing. For the briefest of moments, I thought that her wellbeing could have been mine—that she could have been mine.
I thought I could handle it. The nightmares were better, they all but vanished once she was in my bed and within my grasp. I had forced myself to go to meetings, I had been sober for months before she arrived. My drinking had been under control and the outbursts following my drunken spiral of guilt and shame were manageable.
Until it wasn’t, again.
Bringing her here—back into my life—was the most selfish thing I could have done. I hinted at promises I knew I would never be able to fulfill. The life I now know for certain will never be ours. I have to let her go, I can’t allow her to fight my demons. They are not hers to slay.
Maybe for tonight, just tonight, I can be greedy one last time if she allows it.