Chapter 15 #3
I take a chance and reach out to her chin. I tilt it up, the heat of her skin, the scent of her so close to me, her soft sigh… it’s all like a bruise being pressed on at the center of my chest. Her eyes are still swimming with tears, but they’re no longer falling.
“We don’t have to rush into anything. We have time to plan. It can be our time. I want to show you that you don’t have to be afraid to do this,” I say.
“Oh my god. No.” Her hand closes over mine, flattening my palm against her cheek. “That’s not what I meant. You don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“Okay. But I still want to be there. I used to pour all my energy into what basically amounted to negativity. It’s a much better thing to take all that energy and channel it into all the little things every day.”
Her eyes are so bright from this angle, her face a picture of sweetness as she concentrates hard on what I’m saying.
“Even if acts of service are your language, you’re going to be healing, putting offers in on buildings, dealing with all that paperwork, getting things ready to get underway if the offer goes through, and you still have your regular work, and your club duties.
Please don’t feel like I’m over here, just mega freaking unsatisfied, waiting for you to bring the world to my feet. ”
I want to. I’d love to do that for her. I wish I could, right this damn minute.
And holy shit, if that doesn’t tell me that I’m in trouble, nothing is going to. I don’t need a flashing neon sign telling me that I’m WAY THE FUCK TOO DEEP in massive blocky, capital letters.
I know it. I should dial it back. Tone it down. Stop myself. Get my shit together.
But what if this is getting my shit together?
Learning how to put yourself out there, be a better man, be a parent, a partner, a friend, and a good human being isn’t easy.
That’s the hard road. In the past, I wouldn’t have known where to start.
I would have been terrified. I don’t know that I could have taken that first step forward, into what I would have seen as dark, but I’m no longer fumbling around like a goddamn clown.
I know that the point of living isn’t to shut people out and hope that you never get hurt.
It’s to arrive at the grave, battered and broken, well loved, well lost, experienced in all of it, no matter how great the pain.
Easy to say, hard to do, especially when grief hurts like a motherfucker.
“I’m sorry.” She trembles and sniffles. “That’s- I- I’m sorry if I’m being rude. I’m not trying to be.”
“No. I’m sorry. I’m just down here, thinking and not saying anything, making things awkward.”
She smiles so wide that her eyes crinkle at the corners and another wave of relief washes over me. “I knew you were thinking. Your thoughts are loud. I like that, though. I like it a lot.”
“I don’t have to bring you the world. I can bring you time. I have an idea. Something I’ve wanted to do for a while, if you’ll let me.”
“I can agree if you promise not to forget about yourself. I’ll never take a second of your time or your energy for granted, but you have to know that it’s not selfish to need to take care of yourself too.”
“I know.” Do I? I think so. Maybe. I’m open to learning.
She grasps my hand in hers and when she stands, she helps me to my feet along with her. “Thank you for everything, Odin. It’s getting late. I’m tired. You’re tired. You need to get some rest.”
She desperately wants me to do that, and she’s smart about it. I can’t protest if she’s tired. I want her to get her rest, eat well, to have the world at her feet, especially right now.
Right as we’re leaving the kitchen, a whole stampede hits us. Guys pour through the doorway, each of them armed with bulging paper bags. The kitchen fills up with the delicious scents of fresh food and even though I’m stuffed, my mouth still waters.
“You’re going to miss the party,” Zeppelin accuses.
“That’s okay,” Crow corrects him. He sets down two bags on the table. “They’ve already had their private party for two.”
“Jealous!” Tarynn comes through the doorway.
She’s not armed with any bags and has her arms free to sweep Willow into a hug.
“Sorry! I was talking with Tyrant and right after we were done, I got a call from a client that I had to talk down. Apparently, her four year old got out of bed and cut off twelve inches of hair. She’s panicking because she has a piano recital tomorrow evening. I promised I’d get her in first thing.”
Willow gasps, her hand flying up to her throat. “A foot? Oh my god. I have no idea how you’ll salvage that.”
Tarynn shakes her head. “I know, right? This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. I promised her that her daughter wouldn’t wind up needing a buzz cut or a bowl cut, and I just hope I can make good on my word.”
“You will.” Crow saunters across the room and slings his arm over Tarynn’s shoulders. “You’re a miracle worker.”
“Stop.” Tarynn shoves at him playfully.
Before Tarynn, Crow was withdrawn, almost hostile, and at war with himself.
We had no idea about his other personality, or what a struggle every single day was in his head.
He was fighting those invisible battles that we knew nothing about.
It’s incredible to see him lean in and kiss Tarynn right on the mouth while the rest of the guys hoot and holler at them as they start setting bags down and unpacking them.
That table is going to be groaning under the weight.
They’re all going to have to eat standing up.
There won’t be a square inch of space left, even if they use the countertops.
We don’t get any further ribbing amongst the chaos. We slip out silently. Neither of us says anything until we reach the spare room. Willow is quiet, but she does angle herself into my good side and wrap an arm around me. It might be a side hug, but it’s still the best hug.
Yup. I’m definitely doing it all. Putting it all out there. Flying. Falling. All the cliches. I don’t want to stop. I know I should slow down and take it all in. Enjoy every single moment with Willow. Our lives are both hurtling forward, but there’s no rush. I’ll remember this time forever.
The way she looks up at me after she pulls away and steps back a pace, her eyes glistening and starry, I wonder if she’s thinking the same thing.
Maybe that’s too hopeful, even for someone who tries to bring an endless amount of optimism.
“Goodnight,” she says, but it sounds more like a question.
Like some small part of her still needs to hear that in the morning, I’ll be here for her, even if she fully knows it and even if she doesn’t think that I’ll be one more person in her life to leave her, abandon her, betray her, and disappoint her.
I know she doesn’t think that, but I still can’t stop myself from bending and brushing a kiss over the shell of her ear. Her breath catches and releases, a soft sigh that echoes between us in the hallway.
I know I need to say goodnight before I drag this out into creep territory, but it’s so hard to speak or even to think about leaving.
Willow is so beautiful. The most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen, at the end of a long, tiring day, in shadows, or fresh in the morning in bright sunlight.
I sure as fuck don’t believe in spells, but whatever this moment is, I don’t want to break it.
It feels like a force, some kind of gravitational pull working through me, pressing down on my bones, tugging at all my emotions.
She tilts her face up to me. She came tonight, even after I disappointed her.
Even though I made her worry and caused her needless stress.
She forgave me without me asking, brought me food, and was there when I needed her most. She doesn’t need me to always be strong.
Tonight, I could just be vulnerable with her.
I could be me and it happened so effortlessly.
Just like the first time I met her, it felt strangely right.
She was there for me tonight, a true partner. Even though I’m going to my room by myself and she’ll be in hers down the hall, I won’t feel alone.
“Have a good sleep.” I force myself to break the spell, my throat tight.
She nods and gives me a little smile that starts that throbbing in my chest all over again. “You too.”
She slips into her room and closes the door. I stand guard for a few minutes, though it’s completely unnecessary, before I walk to my room.
It’s not a long walk, but as sore as I am, it’s still taxing.
By the time I sprawl out on my bed, I feel every one of my forty-eight years, and every single bit of skin that is probably still out there on the road somewhere.
I close my eyes, still fully dressed, the lights still on.
The room spins, but at the same time, I’ve never felt like I’ve been more balanced.
Old me would have called it dangerous, but the man I am now, and want to be in the future, knows that it’s growth. It’s for the best, even when it’s risky, and even when it hurts.