“I think I could,” he says.
It hurts to hear, but I also knew that’s what he’d say, or a version of it. I know Isaac doesn’t want to make a choice and hurt me, but the whole situation hurts. Isaac is invested. Deacon is clearly invested in Isaac. I’m the one who’s drowning in the uncertainty of not being enough for either of them.
“I just feel like he’s a better fit for you. Or maybe just—you two go together better. Like you can be what each other needs.”
“I’m very aware of what I need, Evan,” Isaac says.
“And you think that’s what? Both of us?”
“It’s not that crazy.”
“What if I fall in love with you?” I ask. “How am I going to feel knowing you have to go to someone else to get something I can’t give you?”
“It’s not about that, though.”
“Ithasto be,” I argue.
“Do you think you could get everything you need fromme?” he asks.
The answer to that question hits me with startling clarity. It’s a yes—but.
In my one and only experience being in love with someone—someone who claimed to love me back—the loss of security in our relationship did me in. Can I trust Isaac not to do the same? Not to follow the next shiny object that crosses his path and leave me in the dust?
I’m not saying he falls easily—I’ve got no evidence of that, but he did get wrapped up in Deacon awfully fast for someone who’s supposedly in love with me. And that’s scary.
It scares the shit out of me.
His gaze is part pleading, but part resigned, too. I don’t know why that’s such a good look on him.
I know what the safe thing to do is. I should stop seeing them both. I should give Isaac a hug right here and now, tell him thank you for everything, and go. But he’s getting to me. Poking at the soft spot that craves the attention and affection of someone powerful and self-assured. Someone who’s never hurt me on purpose. Someone who knows I’m a mess of contradictions but wants me anyway.
Ishouldback away, instead, I graze his fingers with mine, and he quickly turns it into a grip with his entire hand. Our lips touch, and his other hand sifts through my hair and cups the back of my head. I touch his face with my fingertips.
His mouth opens, and I press in, brushing his tongue with mine. My stomach swoops as he deepens the kiss. The gentleness of it is unexpected, and it’s just—fuckinglovely. Romantic.
Isaac pulls away, pressing his forehead to mine and taking a deep breath. “Give me a chance, baby.”
My feelings for him, previously silent, asleep or something, are wide awake now. They yelp and yammer at me, rattling at the cage I keep them inside. One I didn’t even know was there. Denial is some powerful shit when you’re trying to justify fucking your smoking hot boss five days a week, I guess.
These feelings are some strong fuckers, though. I need to reinforce that cage quick if I know what’s good for me. “I want to.”
“I love you so much, Evan,” he says, his hand still moving through my hair. “And I’ve got you.”
“Isaac…fuck…” What is this man doing to me?
His arm wraps around my waist, and he holds me so close, I feel like part of him. “Try with me. With us. Don’t you think this at least deserves a chance? Even if it’s nuts?”
“It can’t be all sex all the time,” I say.
“I get that.”
“Do you? Because I’ve seen you with him. He can give that to you minus all my shit.”
“I want you and everything that comes with it. Including sex, but it doesn’t need to be all the time. But I’m gonna say one thing, and you can think about it.”
“Okay,” I say, bracing myself.
“This is one of the first times you’ve given me much else.”
