Chapter 8 #2
“Baylor—” I start, but she’s already shaking her head, her refusal at her lips.
“Nope. Come on.” Tugging on my hand, she’s now in the lead, and she pulls me out of my bedroom and across the hall to the guest room. “This is where I’ll be. Bathroom’s down the hall, right?” she asks.
“It is.” I nod, resigned that she won’t be in my bed tonight. “You know you’re ruining my fantasy of having you in my bed.”
She chuckles. “What’s the fun of that if I’m in it without you?”
I part my lips to reply, but I’ve got nothing. “Come here.” I open my arms for a hug, and she tosses the clothes onto the bed before stepping into my embrace. “Goodnight, sweet Baylor.”
“Goodnight, Macklin,” she says, before pulling away far too soon for my liking.
“I’ll be right across the hall if you need me. Help yourself to anything you need. Wake me for anything, and tomorrow, I’m making breakfast.”
“You’re trying to spoil me.”
“Yes.” I flash her a grin and force myself to turn and walk out of the room before I beg her to let me stay.
I can’t sleep. My alarm clock says it’s just after two in the morning, and I’ve been lying here for hours.
I keep replaying our conversation from last night, and I’ll be honest, there was a part of me that thought she might rush out of my house without a backward glance, but she didn’t.
She listened to my story, asked questions, we talked, and she stayed.
Knowing that Baylor is right across the hall is what’s really keeping me awake. I’d give anything to have her lying next to me, but we’re not there yet, and that’s okay, but damn, she’s so fucking close, yet so far away. I keep reminding myself that it’s baby steps.
The sound of her bedroom door opening has my head jerking toward my own. I left it cracked open halfway in case she needed me. I watch as her shadow appears in the doorway.
“Baylor?”
She doesn’t say anything, but she steps inside my room. It seems like hours for her to reach my bed, when it’s mere seconds. She stands there in the dark, and only the shadows cast by the moon through the bedroom window make it possible for me to make out her silhouette.
“Are you okay? Do you need anything?”
She sniffles. “Can I— I just—” Her voice cracks, causing her to halt whatever it was she was going to say.
Immediately, I pull back the covers. “Come here. Lie down with me,” I tell her, my voice soft, hopefully soothing to her.
She hesitates. “Just cuddle with me, Baylor. Whatever it is, I promise it’s going to be okay.
” Several thunderous heartbeats later, she’s climbing into bed next to me.
I pull the cover up over her and tug her into my arms. Her head rests against my chest, and my arms wrap around her as she breaks.
The fall into her feelings is quiet at first. Her body trembles, her breath shaky, and then a sob breaks free from her chest, as if something has finally pushed her over the edge, after holding on for far too long.
Seeing her like this, feeling her body tremble with her tears, her sobs filling the quiet room, wrecks me.
I tighten my arms around her, one hand cradling the back of her head, pressing her closer like I can somehow shield her from everything that’s already happened.
Her fingers fist in my shirt, clutching like I’m the only solid thing left in her world.
And if I could be that for her, I would. I already am. She just doesn’t know it.
Her tears soak through my T-shirt, hot and relentless, each one carving something sharp through my chest. I’ve seen her laugh until she couldn’t breathe. Seen her roll her eyes, tease, fight, and stand tall like nothing could knock her down.
But this?
This version of her. Witnessing her shatter and hurting, it damn near kills me.
“I’ve got you,” I murmur, my voice low against her hair.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you.” I can only assume everything that’s gone down the past couple of weeks is just now catching up to her.
I’m sure my confessions didn’t help, and guilt weighs heavily on my chest. I never want to cause her pain.
I would give anything to take this from her, to fix what he broke, and I vow that I will.
I’ll put her heart back together, piece by piece, and then maybe if I’m lucky, she’ll hand it back to me.
I would do anything… anything to take this pain from her, to rip it out of her chest and carry it myself if it meant she’d never feel it again. I’d go back and undo every word that asshole said to her, every promise he broke, every detail of the future he painted just to tear it down.
I’d give her all those promises, plan our future, and live by every word if she would only let me.
Her breathing hitches, another sob tears through her, and I press my lips to the top of her head without thinking. It’s instinct. It’s need. It’s everything I’ve been holding back for longer than I want to admit.
“Why wasn’t I enough?” she whispers, the words so broken they barely make it out.
My jaw tightens, dark fury rising in my chest. Not at her. Never at her. But at him. At the damage he left behind, as if she were something disposable.
“Hey,” I say softly, pulling back just enough to look at her.
The room is still dark, but the moonlight gives me just enough light to make out her features.
My thumb brushes under her eye, catching tears as they fall.
“Don’t… Don’t do that to yourself. This isn’t about you not being enough.
” I know she doesn’t believe me. Not yet.
So, I pull her back in, tucking her against me as if she belongs there, like I know she always has.
“He didn’t deserve you,” I add, quieter now.
Truer than anything I’ve ever said. My throat tightens around everything else I don’t say.
I want to reassure her that I would never lie to her.
I want to make her every promise he never kept and show her what it’s like for a man to choose her.
To put her first. The future she thinks she lost is the same one I’ve been dreaming of for years. The one I want with her.
Now isn’t the time for that. She’s bleeding, and the last thing she needs is me handing her my heart, asking her to hold something else together when she can barely hold herself. So, I swallow it down, all of it, and just hold her tighter.
Her sobs start to quiet eventually, fading into soft, uneven breaths. My hand keeps moving through her hair, slow and steady, as if I were to stop, she might fall apart all over again.
The winter wind outside rattles the windows, reminding me why I’m lucky enough to have her in my arms, in my bed, even with the tears.
I’m grateful that I’m the one comforting her when she needs it.
She’s here in my arms, where I can take care of her, even if it’s only to hold her through the tears and the pain he left behind.
“I’m right here, Baylor,” I murmur, more promise than reassurance. “I’m not going anywhere.”
Not tonight.
Not tomorrow.
Not ever, if I have anything to say about it.
Her tears eventually dry up, and her breathing evens out, but my hold on her never wavers.
I don’t know how many chances I’ll have to be this close to her.
I hope that our future holds a lifetime of nights snuggled together, but I’m not sure.
With her, I’m the air of confidence, but the truth is, I’m scared as hell that I won’t be able to fix what he broke.