“I.”
I used to be smart. I used to know things.
I hang my head with a laugh, becausewow?—
“Honest to God—thought everything I told you was enough.”
Then I sigh through anI’m-fuckedsmile.
It’s not cute—it’s fatal.
It’s not sweet—it’s sick.
Because it’s too late.
I’m so fucking weak for this man,
I’m dying on it.
“You deserve someone not tied down by addiction and contracts and—” I wave a hand at myself, the system, the whole damn situation, “—whatever the fuck this is,” I say. “This life? I built it on the foundation ofmyfears just to survive. Every rule I made was to keepmyhead above water. So, yeah. It protectsme. But it doesn’t protect you, Drew. You don’t build a whole life on fear, then invite something good into it.”
My laugh bleeds out
like air from a slit in my chest.
“Fuck—I want you outside of it.
“All the way at the shoreline.
“Safe from all this.”
His stare falls away. So does one of his hands.
He replaces it with the support of his thigh,
leaning mine against the inside of his.
Then he takes my hand,
tongue running across his bottom lip.
“So you’re telling me…”
He stretches it out to make sure I hear it.
“You’d rather keep things safe
“than take a risk?”
My jaw locks. “It’s not that simple?—”
“No. It is.
“You’d rather play it safe with some guy you don’t give a fuck about, than take a shot at somethin’ real with me?”
Then stillness.
A dumb stare.
