“The next step is accepting that there are people who love you for exactly who you are. All of you. The good and the bad and the neutral. And there are, Davis. There are people who love you.”
Love me.Love me, Sloane.
Another breath shudders out of me.
“You’re worthy,” she murmurs. “You’re a good person. You take care of your friends. You take care of strangers. You took care of me.”
I squeeze her tighter.
I shouldn’t, but I can’t help myself. I need—I need to be closer.
I need to believe her.
“That’s why I’ve married random women.” I suck in another breath, realize I can’t breathe because of how tight I’m squeezing her, and relax just enough to reach for a little more oxygen. “Balance the scales. Do more good than harm. Right the world’s wrongs.”
She strokes my hair. “I don’t want to marry you, but I would very much like to date you. Under normal circumstances. Where I don’t have to press charges against people every time I turn around and no one’s breaking into my house and we’re not on a treasure hunt.”
Say yes. Say yes. Say yes.
Take the win.
Get the girl.
“Sloane. I’m…I’m untethered. Right now. No purpose. No goal. And I—this is when I hurt people. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t ever want to hurt you. Especially you.”
“Then let me help you find your way.”
I know people aren’t perfect.
But she is.
Right now, she’s absolutely fucking perfect.
“You deserve—” I start, but she cuts me off with a huff.
“Donottell me what I deserve. Iknowwhat I deserve. I deserve what we all deserve. Safety. Friends. Happiness. Love. And you do too. I would—god, Davis. I would go to the ends of the earth for you, and I know better.I know better. But over and over and over—you’re the good guy.”
“I’m not.”
“You fucking are. Let yourself be the good guy. Let yourself be happy. And if that can’t be with me—fine. Just tell me. Kinda been through worse. But I’m here. I want to take a chance. With you. Even if it crashes and burns. I want to know if any of this was real. I want to know I tried. I want to know if you’re the good man you’ve shown me this week. I want to knowyou. Your stories and your history and your motivations and your weaknesses. And I don’t want to want you, but I can’t help myself. Not if—not if this is the real you.”
I don’t know if she’s squeezing me harder than I’m squeezing her, but I know I can’t let go.
I need to.
Just to break the spell.
The spell where I think she’s right.
That we could—that we could do this.
That I could date her.
Take her to that movie. Have dinner together at the Grog. Come home with her.
Take her to my house.
I’ve never taken a woman to any of the houses I own.
