Chapter Twenty-Five
Scarlett
I can’t get home fast enough. I’d love nothing more than to keep kissing Wade. Bad idea, Scarlett . He might think he wants to be with me, but eventually, he’ll realize I’m the boring one. That I don’t have anything that could enrich his life. I’ll probably still be buying dusty history books at ninety—and maybe some romance too.
I have to hurry home before he gets off his shift.
But I’m clean out of luck because by the time I get to the edge of downtown, I glance over my shoulder and see a very familiar 4Runner following after me.
That would be ironic: wiped out by a reckless driver.
A reckless Wade . That’s an oxymoron. That man would never do anything to put me in danger.
I can’t believe he’s following me home from the fire station.
I don’t know what he’s thinking. This can go nowhere. This attraction? We can’t keep going like this. It’s going to end in mutually assured destruction.
His relationships all last a span of a few months. I guess it’s something we have in common—short-lived relationships .
How can he think we should be a thing? I don’t want to lose the relationship I have with Wade. I grew up with him. He’s special to me. And unfortunately, I know for a fact that if I were to end up in a relationship with him, he would have the power to break my heart.
A truck zooms past me, the rush of air blowing my hair in my face. Wade honks his horn at the other driver and I turn the final corner to home.
I pedal a little faster, barely dodging Lincoln and his dog where they’re walking in front of The Serendipity.
“Hey!”
“Sorry!” I call back to him.
I keep pedaling and go all the way to the side exit in the pocket park. I have to get in and lock the door before he parks his car.
I jump off my bike and carry it down the stairs. I grab my key out of my purse, hurrying to unlock the door and get inside. It’s wet, it’s raining, and it’s muddy. It’s like the weather decided to match my mood. I know carrying my bike through my building is going to leave a disgusting mess, but I can lock my bike in the storage space in the basement. It’ll stay dry, and I’ll be safe inside before Wade can get to me.
I shrink when I hear footsteps and glance at the top of the stairs to see Wade hurrying down. I fling the door open, trying to get inside with my bike, but he’s right behind me. He catches the door before I can close it and follows me inside.
“What do you think you’re doing? You almost got hit by that truck!” It’s not only the weather that’s gone dark. Wade’s expression is positively thunderous.
“Oh, you’re a fine one to talk, Mr. Racing-Toward-Me-In-Your-SUV!”
“You can’t just hide from this conversation, Scarlett.”
“And you can’t just barrel your way through everything! ”
“It’s because you’re being juvenile and not letting us talk this out!”
“You’re tracking mud all over my house!” I blame him for the dirt and road grime that’s dripping off the bike in my kitchen.
I clean the bike, the counter, and go to grab the mop out of the closet. Maybe if I start cleaning—no eye contact with Wade—I can just go about my day and avoid this conversation altogether.
I don’t even know what to say. I don’t even know what I really want.
Wade kicks off his shoes and launches them toward the front door, somehow not leaving a spot of dirt anywhere else as they land on the rug there.
“Scarlett, I can’t keep this up.”
“Oh, good, then don’t. Feel free to leave anytime.”
I pull out my bucket and fill it with a little soapy water for the mop.
“Scarlett, I know this makes you uncomfortable. But ignoring it isn’t going to make this go away.”
I turn around and wave the mop at him. “I don’t know what I want.”
He shakes his head twice. “I think you do know what you want, and I think you’re too scared to say it.”
He reaches for the mop. Soon, we both have a hold on it, tugging back and forth. He has an unfair advantage with those ridiculous muscles.
“You can’t make me say what I’m thinking!”
He gives the mop a little tug. “Then you are thinking something, aren’t you?” he asks, a smirk on his face.
I tug extra hard on the mop, and he slides forward a step on the floor.
“You got my socks!” he complains and gives a hard yank on the mop. “I want you to tell me exactly what you want! ”
I glare at him. We’re at a standoff, each of us holding an end of the mop, him standing there in his wet socks.
I shouldn’t say it. I should not say it.
But I can’t help it. My mouth seems to open of its own accord, and I blurt out, “I want you ! And that scares me!”
His expression softens, and he looks at me with the warmest expression I’ve ever seen on Wade’s face.
“Do you mean that?”
I’d like to deny it, but for some reason, I can’t. “Yes. But I want you to say what you want.”
He shakes his head. “I want you. I want to be with you. I don’t want a fling. I don’t want this to just be physical. I want an actual relationship with you, Scarlett. Serious, full-on, get to know each other as boyfriend- and girlfriend…with the intent to get married. I want to court you, Scarlett.”
He lets go of his end of the mop, and it flops to the ground with a splat. I lean the mop against the counter and run both hands through my hair.
“Wade, I’ve never seen you in a long relationship. I didn’t know you even were interested in that.”
“Well, I could say the same for you.”
I shake my head. “That’s not really my fault.”
“Isn’t it? Or is it that you’ve never found someone you’ve cared enough about to actually have a relationship with them?”
His words hit. Because there’s an element of truth to them. Sure, my brother and parents have disapproved of many of the men I’ve chosen to date, but I’ve never found one I was willing to go against their opinions for. There’s never been anyone worth the effort.
“Scarlett, you’re everything I’ve ever wanted. And me telling you this is selfish. Because I want you all to myself. I can’t watch you go on dates with other men. It’s killing me. So I’m being honest with you right now. I want a relationship with you. And if you do not want the same, then I will walk out that door, and I will leave you alone. I will never bother you again. I will stop. I won’t ruin your dates. I will stop following you.”
The thought of him leaving now and never annoying me again is a lot worse than how it felt to break up with my boyfriend of five weeks.
I stare at him, opening and closing my mouth, trying to decide what to say. “If we were together, don’t you think we would clash? We’re different. I like to be alone; you like to be social. You run to your problems and face them head-on. I tend to hold back.”
Wade steps toward me, ignoring the fact that he’s standing in a puddle of water, now directly in front of me. “But the thing is, I understand that you like to be alone. I know you need that time to recharge. I know you’re not going to go become a derby driver. And I don’t expect you to. But I do know you are strong, Scarlett. I’ve seen you rise to the occasion over and over again. You’re stronger than you think. I don’t want you to change for me. I don’t need you to change. I don’t want you to feel that pressure. And more than anything, I want you to be happy. So if you think that being with me would make you un happy, I want you to tell me to leave. I want you to put up that wall between us. Because I do not want to be the cause of your unhappiness.”
Dang it. That’s exactly the kind of stuff that makes me want to risk a relationship with him. He says these things, and even worse, he acts on them. He supports me. “When you say that, it makes me want to jump in head-first,” I mutter.
“Oh, I see how it is. I sound so terrible in this relationship. Just a horrible idea. It’s much better to find someone who won’t support you,” he says sarcastically.
“I am scared you’ll get bored of me. ”
He looks at me and shakes his head. “I’ve never been bored with you in all the time I’ve known you.”
“Yes, but that’s different.”
“Explain it to me. You think I’ll all of a sudden get bored because we’re in a relationship? You think I’ll stop liking you just because I can?”
I can’t help but chuckle at that one. “But maybe you’ll get tired of me and being with me…I might not be enough in that department.”
“I’ve kissed you multiple times now, Scarlett.” He’s fighting a smile as he tells me this. “And every time I’ve kissed you, I promise you, I haven’t felt even a hint of boredom. I’m not going to lose that attraction to you. It doesn’t just go away. And yeah, I think our relationship is going to be one that maybe requires more communication or a different style of communication that will work for both of us. And I think that for you to be loved and protected, you need someone who understands what you’re capable of and what makes you feel safe.”
He takes another step closer to me, and I have to press my hands to my sides to keep from grabbing him.
I can see myself, clear as day, being happy with Wade, and that’s also what scares me. Because sometimes my brain likes to make up happy little illusions of what could be, so maybe I’m just tricking myself and it’s wishful thinking.
“I need to know what you truly want,” Wade says.
“I want to try to be in a relationship with you,” I admit slowly. “I want to be the person you’re excited to see every day. I want to be the person you can relax around and feel safe with. I don’t want to be the person you have to perform for or be on top of your game with. I want to be there for you, no matter what.” I want to kiss him because I’m attracted to him, and unfortunately, I have been for quite a while .
His eyebrows shoot up at that. “Oh really? Tell me more,” he says.
I shake my head with a smile. “There’s a lot of reasons I want to be with you, Wade, and they’re also the same reasons I’m scared to be with you. Because I’m scared of having all those things. And I’m scared that someday you’ll walk away. And then I’ll be left without you.”
“Have I ever hurt you in the past?” Wade asks seriously.
“Yes. One time, you promised me dinner, and you never paid up.”
He smirks down at me. “I remember. You saved me from an awkward date, and I told you I owed you one. And you told me I owed you some tacos and horchata.”
I look at him in surprise. “You remember that day?”
He nods. “It’s imprinted in my memory. You were twenty-two years old and back home from college. I had someone hitting on me in the store, and you came up and slipped your hand into mine, pretending you were my girlfriend. It was the first time I realized I was attracted to?—”
I gasp.
“—you.” He smiles sheepishly at me.
“You were attracted to me then?”
“It was the first time I looked at you differently…” He clears his throat. “When did you look at me differently?”
I sigh as I step back and rest a hip on the counter. “Are you sure you want to know?”
He nods slowly. “I think so.”
“It was the day you barged in here with no warning. When I was changing the lightbulbs. I felt this weird jolt when you walked in.” I try to explain the strange feeling. The one where the air electrifies around the person you’re with. But it’s hard to get that across to someone. “I didn’t realize what it was at first. But I knew something had changed.”
Wade takes a step toward the mop, picks it up, and sets it in the bucket. “You’ve done an awful lot of rage cleaning lately. Did that pent up frustration have to do with me?”
I smirk. “You were always ruining my dates but never offering to be one. What do you think?”
He pivots, stepping forward directly into the wet spot on the floor, and pulls me to him. “I think I’m in this the whole nine yards,” he says hoarsely as he loops his arms around me.
I clutch the front of his shirt. This is it. This time, when I’m in his arms, it’s with clear expectations. It’s the expectation that we both want something out of this. We’re not here for a short time. This is serious, and we are committed to trying our darnedest to make something of this.
“Are you going to kiss me?” I ask quietly.
“You ask that a lot, you know,” Wade says.
I tip my head back and laugh. “And you thought I was the quiet one.”
He chuckles and leans closer to my face. “I’ll kiss you on one condition.”
“What’s that?” I whisper.
“That you go out on a date. With me.” He presses a slow kiss to my forehead.
“I think—I think I could manage that.” I gasp as he bends down and kisses my neck.
“I’ll bring you flowers.”
He kisses my jawline.
“We’ll go to Amor Serendipia, and we’ll tell each other all our hopes and dreams. And talk about that book you’ve been reading.”
I smile as he kisses me on the cheek. “You do know your way to my heart.”
“I told you I wanted to court you,” he says softly as he hovers above my lips. “Is that a yes?”
I sigh happily. “Yes. Completely and totally a yes.”
He presses his mouth against mine, and I lose myself into the feelings. I didn’t know it was possible to have this much of a response to kissing someone. I thought all kisses started out mediocre, that you just needed practice.
Apparently not. We’re three for three on kisses that send me to the moon.