Chapter 30 #2
“You do.” He reaches over, grasping my hand. “You have no idea how much you do, baby.”
I thread my fingers through his. “So, what are you gonna do now?” I ask. “I mean, after you drop out?”
“I don’t know yet,” he confesses. “I’ll try to stay with this construction thing, but there’s not always steady work, and the money is shit compared to …”
His other option hangs in the air.
He drops his eyes like he’s guilty of something. “Marcus has been calling.”
I already know he has; this is just the first time Jameson has actually acknowledged it.
A wave of anxiety rushes through me as I ask, “And?”
“And a lot of options are open.” He pulls his eyes back up to meet mine, gauging my reaction.
“Am I the reason you haven’t said yes to them?”
“Yeah,” he answers before shaking his head. “No. I mean … I don’t know.”
“I can’t …” I swallow, the memories of that night flashing through my mind. “I can’t lose you, too.”
He squeezes my hand. “You won’t.”
“That’s what he said.” I pull my hand from his, dropping my eyes to the floor. “He promised.” My voice cracks. “So, don’t try to tell me ‘you won’t’ because you don’t know.”
How can he even think about going back after …
“I’m not gonna do anything like that,” he tries to reason. “I’m not messing with cars.”
“That whole life is dangerous!” I shout, turning back to him.
“I know,” he says, his gentle tone turning sharp, defensive. “You think I don’t know that? That’s why I told you to stay away from me, but you didn’t, did you?”
I pull my head back as his words hit me. “That was before.”
“This is who I am,” he says, not sounding like himself. Not how he is with me. “I told you from the very beginning.”
“It’s not who you have to be, not anymore.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffs. “I’m just as trapped as I was when my old man was alive. This is all I know. All I’m good for.” He says it with such certainty. Like he’s heard it before. Like he’s been told it before.
And I realize why he doesn’t sound like himself—because his words aren’t his own. They’re his father’s.
“That’s not true. You could be—”
“What?” He lets out a hollow laugh. “More? Better?”
“Yes!” I shoot back. “Why not?”
“This is the hand I’ve been dealt. This is my life. Take it or leave it.”
Take it or leave it?
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He looks right at me, his face blank, devoid of any emotion. “Just what I said.”
This isn’t him. He’s put up the barrier his father taught him how to build.
“You’re doing it again.”
“What?” he barks. “I’m doing what?”
“Pushing me away,” I answer. “You’re trying to push me away.”
“Well, maybe you should listen this time,” he says, doubling down.
And that does it. His words tip me over the edge.
“Fuck you,” I spit.
“Yeah, sure,” he mutters. “Fuck me, ’cause this is all my fault, isn’t it?”
“You think it’s mine?”
“I warned you. I told you exactly what you’d get with me.”
My heart sinks. “I know, but …”
“But nothing,” he tells me, his voice flat. “You said if it got to be too much, you’d leave.” He shifts forward, his eyes locked on mine. “So leave.”
“I can’t!” I yell, the words slipping out on their own. “Don’t you get it? I can’t!”
“Why not?”
“Because I fucking love you,” I confess. “I love you so much it hurts, and the idea of losing you—”
He grabs my face so fast I don’t even know what’s happening. Then he crashes his lips to mine.
My hands are already fisting his shirt, my movements frantic, trying to hold on to him, to get even closer.
He grips my hips, shifting me so I’m straddling his waist, our kiss never breaking. His hand moves to my hair, pulling my head back lightly. “You love me?” he questions, his eyes disbelieving as they search mine.
“Don’t you?” I ask. “Don’t you love me, too?”
“Yeah,” he breathes, answering without thought. “Yeah, more than anyone.”
Relief courses through me at his response, at how easily the words came. How much he sounds like he meant them. How much he sounds like himself.
“I can’t leave,” I tell him. “So, please don’t make me.”
“I don’t want you to.” He lets go of my hair and slides his hands down the back of my shirt, resting them on my hips. “But I don’t know if I can be who you need me to be. I can’t promise you that …” His hands flex against me. “I’m doing the best I can with what I have.”
“I know you are,” I whisper.
“I’m probably gonna go back to it, dealing at least.” When I lean away from him, he rambles on, “That’s as far as it’ll go, though. I’m not gonna get into anything more than that.”
“Just dealing?” I ask slowly, playing it out in my head.
He nods. “You gonna be okay with that?”
I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, and he watches me think it through. “You promise?” I ask. “That’s all. Just dealing?”
He dips his chin. “I promise.”
“And you’ll tell me if it becomes anything more? You can’t lie to me.”
“I trust you,” he says simply, easily. “I’ll tell you if anything changes. But baby?”
“Yeah?” I murmur, trying to process his words.
“You have to trust me, too.”
“I do,” I answer instantly.
He shakes his head. “With this. You have to trust me with this.”
“I—”
“Can you do that?”
“No cars?”
“No cars,” he confirms. “I promise. Never that.”
“Okay.” I let go of a breath. “Okay, yeah, I trust you.”
He brushes his thumb against my hip, leaning in and bringing his lips to mine, as if sealing the promise.
Our vow to each other.
I deepen the kiss, silently telling him that I’m all in, that I trust him.
He pulls back, drawing his gaze up my body until he finds my eyes. “You really love me,” he says, like he’s trying to make himself believe the words.
I lean into him, pressing my lips against his in response. “More than anyone.”