Chapter Twenty-Eight #2
I shove playfully against his chest and he rocks back, taking me with him.
“I want to fight with you because we’re determined to get it right this time.
And between tour stretches and after it’s all done, I want to wake up with you and bring you coffee in bed.
I want to cook you dinner and bend you over the kitchen counter—” He lowers his voice for that last part, thank god.
“I want your shit fucking everywhere because you’re kind of a slob—”
“Hey now, I’m clean in the ways that matter—”
“I want to follow you wherever you get a job, whenever that happens, because it’s going to happen.
You’re so fucking talented and I cannot wait to watch your career take off, and if you think that means Rolling Stone, then let’s fucking do it.
And if we hate it, then okay. We’ll do something else.
And we’ll keep doing things together and building a life because the details of it don’t really matter to me as long as it’s us. ”
My heart lodges in my throat. As long as it’s us.
“I know you worry I’d regret following you, but I think this era of my life is coming to an end now so I can be there for your big dreams, because you are my big dream, Sloane Donavan. And I know it’ll be hard with me on tour and you in California, but—”
“I turned down Rolling Stone,” I blurt.
“What? Why?” Dax leans back, eyes scanning my face.
“Because I realized I didn’t actually want it.
I think I would’ve been miserable there, even if Robb hadn’t—” I don’t want to get into the Robb and the Hudson of it all right now.
This moment is ours, and they’ve taken enough from us already.
“I’ve spent half my life trying not to become my mom.
I thought working hard and staying independent would keep me from living with regret like she did.
I’ve left families, friends, cities behind, all to chase what I want, and now…
what I really want is to not be so fucking lonely.
In trying so hard not to be her, I ended up becoming her anyway.
I can see that now.” I shake my head. “And I know it’s ridiculous that I’m so fucked up by a woman I barely knew, but…
I’m working on it,” I say with a self-deprecating laugh.
Dax hums contrarily. “I think I corner the market on ‘fucked up’ in this relationship.”
A laugh wheezes out of me. “Dax!”
He smirks, squeezing my hand to let me know he’s listening, too.
“What I need to figure out is what my mom never did—how to do both. Rolling Stone has been the goal for so long and I thought I’d regret turning down my dream job, but it’s not my only dream, and I’d regret missing out on everything else so much more.
” I thread our fingers together. “Your dreams are my dreams, too. I want Cleveland. I want you. I am so fucking excited for you, the band, this album and the tour. I want to be there for you as you see this through. And then when it’s my turn—”
“I’m there,” Dax promises without hesitation.
I’ve had blinders on, and in my focus, the world outside my tunnel vision grew very, very small.
I want a life that’s big and loud and a little chaotic.
By choosing Dax, I can see a new plan loosely falling into place, his dreams merging with mine.
I may have to wait a bit longer for mine to take off, but I’ll be cheering him on while he sees his through.
Then, he’ll be in my corner while I chase mine, and whatever shape they end up taking, it’ll be more than enough. As long as it’s us.
Stretching up onto my tiptoes, I press a kiss to his lips. “Lastly, I’m sorry I’ve never said this before, but god, I love you so fucking much, Dax Nakamura.”
A contented noise rumbles in his chest, and he’s pulling me farther into him. “I know, baby. Me, too.”
I lean back a fraction, gaze bouncing around his face as realization dawns, what he’s been telling me all along.
We’ve never said those three words to each other before, but haven’t we been saying them all along anyway?
The words tumble out of me automatically, and I mean them in every iteration. “I cannot fucking stand you.”
He grins. “I love you, too.” His hand goes to my hair, threading through the locks at the base of my skull, holding me there as he brushes his mouth over mine. “Stop flirting with me.”
My breath hitches. He does remember. “I would never.” It couldn’t be less like the way I said it three years ago, before our first kiss, still in denial of my attraction to him.
“That would be disgusting,” he agrees, smiling against my mouth.
“Completely abhorrent.” This time, when he presses his lips to mine, it’s the same rush as three years ago.
But it’s also different. There’s still a little bit of disbelief that he wants me but none of the insecurity of what to do with him wanting me because it wasn’t a part of my plan.
This time, I don’t freak out and run away.
This time, I stay. I hold him tighter, pour everything into the kiss like I’m pouring the foundation for the future we’ll build together.
I pull back, eyes narrowed. “I thought you’d forgotten. Why didn’t you say it back before?”
Dax’s thumb strokes along the side of my neck, making my pulse jump.
“When you said it outside the studio two months ago…” He shakes his head.
“I didn’t forget. I felt it, too, but if we were going there again, I didn’t want to dance around it or hide behind it.
That summer…” He pauses. “We found a lot of ways to say how we felt without actually saying it, and I wasn’t going to say it first, because if we did—if we called it what it was—then it would’ve been a hell of a lot harder for me to let you go.
But this time, I knew I was playing for keeps.
I love you so fucking much, Sloane Donavan.
I’ll say it every possible way you want, but I wanted the first time I said it to be plain, not hiding behind anything. ”
Every part of me hums happily, and I tell him I love him at least a dozen times on the walk to the car, trying to make up for every time I didn’t say it. It’ll take a lot longer than that, but it’s a start.
I pop the trunk for him to throw in his bag, and he frowns when he sees my backpack.
“I may have bought a standby ticket in case you didn’t show,” I explain.
Dax smiles softly at me. He tosses his bag into the trunk before easing it shut. His hands go to my hips, and he hoists me on top of the car, stepping between my legs. “I’m always gonna show,” he promises. He nudges his nose against mine, and I grin against his mouth before claiming his bottom lip.
I wrap my arms around his neck, rubbing the scar on my ring finger, remembering the new pact I made last night. Try.
“I know, baby,” I tell him. “Me, too.”