Chapter 23 #2
“Because…when this started, I knew what I was getting into. I knew what to expect. One night, and then I’d move on with my life.
One fun night and then back to normal.” We were delusional to think that was feasible, to believe we could ever go back to the way things were.
That was assuming there wasn’t an us before, but we were something long before that night.
We just hadn’t added the physical complication yet.
“We had a deal. We had a plan. We had rules.”
“Rules were meant to be broken,” I say.
“Not rules like that.”
“Why not?” She doesn’t answer, and I reach out for her hand, holding it in mine across the small gap between us. The touch grounds me, and I continue. “Why can’t we break those rules, Hallie? What makes them different?”
She hesitates, opening her mouth, then closing it, so close to confessing the truth before she chooses a different route.
“Because you don’t even date! The rules were in place because you don’t date. I can’t get tangled up in fairy tales when you don’t even want someone right now.”
“You’re right. I don’t want to date you,” I say, and disappointment flashes on her face before it’s buried once again under indignation.
“See! Exactly, that’s why we—”
“I don’t want to date you, Hallie, because I want to start forever with you. I think we’re well past dating and getting-to-know-yous, don’t you?”
Her face drops, confusion taking over.
“What are you…?” There’s a hesitation as her eyes scan my face, and what she sees there—the sincerity and the fact that I’m dead fucking serious—has her eyes widening. “No. No. We can’t.”
“We can, Hallie I—”
“I can’t. And you can’t throw around ideals and promise me forever, because forever doesn’t exist. It’s all a myth, and I know…I know if I believed in a forever with you and it fell apart, I could never come back from that,” she says, tears brimming.
“Hallie,” I start, shifting closer and squeezing her hand. “I know you’re worried about Wren, but I promise, she’d be thrilled, she—” She stands then, shaking her head, and I see what I didn’t before: the utter panic written across her face as she lifts her hands in the air.
“No, you don’t get it. You don’t get it, Jesse.
You’re amazing, and that night was the best of my life.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, trust me.
” A prideful smile tips at my lips, and despite her emotional turmoil, she rolls her eyes.
“But I can’t let a single moment of good make me lose everything. ”
“How would you and I, trying to make a go of things, ruin everything?” I’m using the soft voice I use with Emma when I’m trying to reel her in and speak rationally and calmly and with kindness.
Kid gloves that, in any other situation, Hallie would absolutely hate, but she’s so lost, she doesn’t.
Instead, she stops her pacing and looks at me with wide, apologetic eyes that cut me to my core.
“Because if something goes badly, I lose it all.” Her voice cracks, and I open my mouth to speak, but she continues before I can, almost frantically.
“That’s how it works, Jesse! Every time someone gets the opportunity to leave me, they do.
It’s happened with friends and boyfriends.
It happened with my mom and my dad. The only people I have left are Colton and your family.
” Pain, sharp and hot, slices through me, bringing understanding on its heels, but she keeps going, resolution on her face as she shakes her head.
“You have all of this, and you always will. That’s a guarantee.
Your family will always be there and love you no matter what.
You could fuck it up to hell and back, and they’d still be there.
In a way, I have them too—your family as mine—but I don’t have the same guarantee.
One bad move and it’s gone. If we tried and it failed, you’d get them. ”
Suddenly, it clicks into place with a heartwrenching understanding. This is the missing piece, what my dad either wouldn’t share or couldn’t fully grasp, laid out before me: how deep Hallie’s hurt and fear go.
She continues, oblivious to my revelation.
“They would be nice about it, of course, and pretend it was fine. I’d still be invited to family dinner, and I’d be involved, but I couldn’t put them through that awkwardness of trying to appease both of us.
It wouldn’t be fair. I’d stay away, then fade away, and then it would be gone.
I’d rather have Wren and your family and Emma and you from a safe distance than try this, fuck it up, and lose it all.
That might be a risk you’re willing to take, but I’m not. ”
It’s the most honest reaction I’ve seen from carefully constructed Hallie, the one who puts up her tough, fun-loving, easy-going front. A front she’s erected as a defense mechanism, a safety net to keep people in her life for fear they’ll run from the mess of emotions she harbors beneath.
I’ve never seen her more beautiful.
But with the look and her confession comes a sharp understanding.
It’s not just Hallie being stubborn or worried.
This is Hallie, absolutely terrified.
It’s not about giving Wren hope that Hallie doesn’t want to get her hung up on.
It’s not about my not dating.
It’s not even about messing with Emma’s head, I don’t think.
It’s about losing the safe space that my family has given her over the years.
I was wrong all those weeks ago in thinking she couldn’t be or wouldn’t want to be tied down with a premade family. The truth is that Hallie plays flighty and fun and no-strings attached because she’s terrified of hoping for stability. For family. For love.
She’s never had anyone in her life show her unconditional love, other than her brother and my family.
Love has always come with those conditions, starting with her mother’s leaving.
Coming to the realization and understanding that I would do anything to stop her from feeling that panic, but knowing I can’t fix it—at least, not right away—is nearly suffocating.
Forcing her hand will only push her further away, so instead, I’m going to play reverse psychology on my sweet girl.
“Okay,” I say, and she stops pacing, her brow furrowing. I force myself not to smile.
“Okay?”
“Okay. I get where you’re coming from. Now sit so we can finish our movie.”
“I don’t know if it’s—“
“Jeeze, Hal,” I say, reaching up, wrapping my fingers around her wrist, and tugging until she’s stumbling to the couch, sitting next to me.
As much as I want to pull her into my lap and hold her there until I get my fill, I sit her next to me, then turn to face her.
I don’t resist the urge to reach up, though, to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, to reveal the row of glittering earrings and her pretty green eyes I could drown in.
“I get it now. I get where you’re coming from.
” I don’t tell her that I don’t really care where she’s coming from, that I’m going to continue to push for what I know we both want, what we both need, but I’m going to do it with care.
“Stop avoiding me, Hallie,” I whisper, and to my own ears, it sounds like a plea.
It is one, really.
“I wasn’t—”
“I was an ass. I’ll give you that. I was way out of line, but I’m trying to battle with all of this. You, me. Things I don’t think either of us is ready to look closely at yet.” She opens her mouth to argue, but I keep going. “I should have kept my mouth shut, and I’m sorry for that. I was an ass.”
“This is complicated,” she conceded, and it feels like a confession.
“The best things always are,” I murmur, and I believe that to my core. It’s the wrong thing, though, something I know when her face goes hard again.
“Jesse—”
Shaking my head, I shift so we’re not so close, so the temptation of kissing her isn’t as obvious, so we’re sitting next to one another, facing the TV.
“Another day. Today was a long one.” She looks at my profile, and I watch the two tween girls on the screen, pretending like I’m not fully in tune with her every move, every gesture. Finally, she sighs, then turns back to the movie, and something in me eases.
“And I’ll give you all the time you need, but only if you stop avoiding me like the plague. My sister is starting to get suspicious.” It’s a low blow, but it does what it needs to, so she nods, taking in a deep breath.
“Okay,” she murmurs, and her head drops to my shoulder.
It’s not much—nothing, really, in the grand scheme of what I’m realizing I want with her—but it’s enough.
I convince her to stay for another hour before she yawns, and despite myself, I sigh and tell her she should get home. In a perfect world, I’d say fuck it and convince her to sleep in my bed or with me on the couch, but that’s not for today.
Today is for baby steps.
So instead, I walk her to the door. When we’re at the mudroom, she bends, pulling on and then tying up familiar shoes, the ones I left on her front step last Sunday.
“They fit,” I say once she stands, and even in the dim lighting, I catch a blush moving over her cheeks.
“I’ve worn them every day. Haven’t fallen once, to my disappointment.
” Warmth overtook me at the idea that even when we weren’t talking, even when she was so mad and confused, she put those shoes on, and that I was able to keep her safe.
“I kind of wanted you to be wrong so I can wear my comfy ones.”
I step closer, grabbing her chin between my thumb and pointer finger.
“When you’re with me, you can wear the comfy ones. I’ll always catch you,” I whisper, and I hope she knows I mean more than if she slips on life when her face goes soft. She shifts closer, moving on instinct, I think, a hand going to my cheek, her thumb brushing over my mustache.
“Jesse,” she murmurs, and I smile.
“I’m not going to kiss you tonight, Hallie.” Confidence moves through me, warm and thick, when a flash of disappointment crosses her face, but my decision is made ironclad when it’s quickly covered by relief. “You’re not ready for that, so I’ll wait.”
“You’ll wait?”
I shrug.
“The thing about forever is that it’ll be there tomorrow,” I whisper. When her face goes soft, I know I said the right thing, but I still second-guess my decision not to kiss her; the desire to do so is strong.
But I hold steady, and instead, I pull her into me, holding her there tight in my arms until her body relaxes, until her shoulders soften, and she melts into me.
Her arms wrap around my back, and her breathing slows.
We might stand there for one minute, we might stand there for ten, but I don’t care.
I’d stand here all night if I knew she didn’t need the sleep.
Regrettably, I step back, then help her slide on her jacket. Reaching over to the bin of winter gear, I grab one of my worn Three Kings beanies and slide it over her head. “You didn’t wear a hat over.”
“I was kind of in a rush to get her.”
That now familiar warmth settles in my chest, and I lean down and press my lips to her forehead.
“Well, you can have mine.”
Because she is mine.
And as I watch her walk off and then wait for the confirmation text that she made it home safe, I conclude that she came into Wren’s life all those years ago so she could be mine one day.
No, not mine—ours. Emma’s and mine and Wren’s and Mom’s and Dad’s and, fuck, even Madden’s.
Because Hallie was born to be a King.