Chapter 24 #3
His eyes search mine, pleading and full of hope. Yet, he knows the answer.
I tuck his hair behind his ear, then scrape my nails against his scalp lightly, relishing the way he twitches between my legs.
“Of course I’m thinking about it. I picture myself here every minute of every day.” I tilt his face to mine. “But I have so much resting on my shoulders. And I don’t know how to deal with all of it.”
He presses a hand to my heart. “What does it say here?”
I bite my lip, knowing how much he will hate my next words. “My heart isn’t the problem.”
Or maybe it is, because without it, I wouldn’t be in this mess.
His brow furrows. “What about that program you brought up today? Isn’t it something you want to explore?”
I roll off his lap and wrap myself in his sheets, covering my body and my fears.
This is all too much. I feel backed into a corner, like a stray cat that’s spent too many years roaming the streets to understand what’s best for its own good. That’s the downside of letting someone in, isn’t it? I’ve given him the power to force me to face my truths.
“It’s a possibility. I’d love to do it. I just don’t know how to work it out with the company. With my dad.”
I’m fucking scared. I need you to understand, please. This is a risk I never thought I’d consider taking before I met you. You make me want to be myself, and the consequences terrify me.
“You’ll always be caught in the middle, Zoé,” he says, voice thick. “And I can’t put my heart on the line for someone who isn’t sure whether she wants to stay.”
“Why do you care so much?” I burst out.
A flicker of shock crosses his face. I can’t blame him. My words catch me off guard too.
I lower my head. “Why does it matter so much if I stay or if I go back to my old life?”
He reels back, and instantly, my stomach sinks.
It was such a stupid thing to say. I didn’t mean any of it, yet I used his insecurities against him. Played on his trauma, stomped on the tidbits of his heart he shared with me, hoping I’d keep them safe.
He looks down, a frustrated sigh escaping him.
“How does it not matter to you? How can it not ? Is it all in my head?” His words are like shrapnel, each one tearing through me.
“Am I the only one who can’t sleep at night because I toss and turn, thinking of you?
Unable to focus because you consume me? Am I the only one whose pulse picks up every time a text notification comes through, who smiles like an idiot at every message?
I care so fucking much if you go back because if you do, you’re not here.
With me. Making my life brighter in a thousand different ways.
Because if you go, some piece of my heart goes with you, and it’ll be so much harder to live. Because I—I—”
He stumbles over the words, surprise flickering on his face. Then he clamps his mouth shut, his eyes following closely behind, and sighs.
My heart lurches. Because I what? Tell me. Tell me something I’ve never felt before. Something I’ve dreamed you might feel for me.
“You what?” I plead.
He holds my gaze. “I… like you.”
I scoff, his answer landing with a thud. “I told you I have a lot of baggage,” I manage, though my voice wavers. “I told you my job was my life.”
“Everybody has baggage, Zoé,” he says, barely getting the words out. “It’s called living . You think I don’t have my own? Of course I do. Doesn’t mean you have to shut yourself off from the person begging to help shoulder the load.”
“I don’t know how to do that,” I breathe out.
“Let me show you.” He cups my face with desperate fingers, forcing me to look at him. “Let me be here for you. Please .”
I swallow, restlessness growing inside me. I don’t know how to do that. I want to scream, because the only person who’s been here for me my entire life is me . I don’t know how to let anyone else do that.
I don’t know what it means. I don’t know where to start. I don’t—
I don’t know.
“Zoé, hey.” Matt grasps my fists, loosening my fingers. “Breathe. Come here.”
He wraps one arm around my waist and tugs me to him, his front flush with my back.
“You’re okay,” he murmurs, brushing my hair in a way that soothes my very soul. Without releasing me, he draws the covers over us, tucking us away from the rest of the world, and curls around me until all of him is pressed against all of me.
“I’m terrified I’ll lose everything,” I confess into the crook of his arm. The life I’ve built, my career, my dad. Him . I don’t know how to articulate all of it without having a full meltdown.
His hold on me tightens. “I get it. You’re scared. But I’m here, and that will never change.” For a moment, he’s silent. Just as I consider breaking the tension, he speaks again. “Do you know when people say ‘If you have no fans, it means I’m dead’?”
“Yeah?”
“Same sentiment applies here.” He kisses the slope of my neck. “If you’ve lost everything, it means I’m dead.”
I melt further into his embrace. The words settle my heart and clear my mind. Each sweep of his thumb across my belly quiets my frazzled nerves a little more.
We stay silent like this for minutes and then maybe hours. I lose count. His breathing slows and grows deeper, steadier.
When I’m certain he’s asleep, I shift and face him, softly brushing the tip of my finger over the lines of his cheekbone. The ridge of his nose, the contour of his mouth, the sharp edges of his jaw.
Bravery overtakes me. Or maybe waiting until he’s asleep makes me a coward.
Either way, I lick my lips and whisper, “I’ve been alone for so long.
It seems impossible sometimes to picture a life where I’m not.
Where I’m happy. Where I do what I love.
Where I can truly be myself. The price always seemed too high to pay.
” I press a featherlight kiss on his lips.
“It isn’t with you. Losing you would be so much worse. ”
His breath hitches, and for a second, I hold mine, heart pounding in my ribcage. One, two, three seconds pass. The rise and fall of his chest steadies.
With a relieved sigh, I nuzzle into him and close my eyes.
But then he presses his mouth against my forehead.
“You’re not alone anymore, beautiful. I’m your support system now.”