“I have an IUD, so it’s usually super light. Sometimes I skip it altogether, but I guess I forgot to check the calendar. I’m sorry if I ruined tonight?—”
I cut her off before the guilt can take root.
“You didn’t ruin a damn thing, Willow. What the hell are you apologizing for?”
Her lips part, eyes wide like she wasn’t expecting that response.
“Didn’t you want to,you know?”
“Baby, I always want toyou knowwith you. But don’t apologize for biology,” I scoff.
“Oh my God, I can’t believe I said that.”
She’s blushing now, but she’s more relaxed, and that makes me grin.
“Willow, I’ve got a sister. Trust me, I’ve lived through the moods, the cravings, the heating pads in the microwave. I know how this works.”
She just blinks at me.
Like I’m speaking in tongues.
And there it is again—that look.
That quiet, haunted flicker in her eyes like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop.
Like she expects me to pull away. To recoil.
To make her feel less than for something so goddamn normal.
I hate it.
I want to kill the voice in her head that ever made her believe she needed to apologize for existing.
“Do you need me to get something for you? I’m sure Kelly has a stash of whatever at the office,” I offer.
“No, I don’t want you to leave. And I… I had what I needed in my backpack,” she says, barely above a whisper.
“Good,” I nod, keeping my voice gentle but firm. “Then how about you come sit with me and watch a movie?”
Her brows lift slightly, like she can’t quite believe I mean it.
So I double down.
I brush her cheek with the back of my knuckles. “You’re here. With me. That’s all I need, Baby Girl.”
Her lips tremble, but she nods. And when I tug her toward the couch, she follows.
No fear. No flinch.
And that?
That right there?
Feels like winning the goddamn lottery.
Because I know how hard that trust comes for a woman like her.
And I’ll earn it every damn day until she doesn’t have to think twice.
