“It’s complicated, Pres, and I’m not up to explaining it right now.”
She looks like she’s considering arguing with me, but whatever she reads on my face convinces her to let it go. At least for now. “What was her agenda?”
I take her hands in mine, needing to touch her. “She’s a gold-digging bitch who was only after his money. Keats started going out with Melissa when he was fifteen. Before she got with him, she hit on me, but I turned her down.” Even though that was a very bad period in my life, and I was fucking any female with a pulse those days, my instincts always screamed at me to steer clear of that girl. “Then one day she shows up on Keaton’s arm, and he’s parading her around as his girlfriend, and I didn’t trust it. Didn’t trust her.”
“Why didn’t you tell Keaton?”
“I did, but he didn’t want to know. I think he thought I was jealous.” My brows knit together as something new occurs to me. The day Keaton came out, I was consumed with dark thoughts and the things he said barely registered in my brain, but I still remember some of his words. “Or he just didn’t care because he was confused about his sexuality and he thought having a girlfriend would cure him or something.”
“I understand why that would’ve caused issues in your relationship with Keaton at the time, but why now? He’s getting married, and it’s not like you ever dated Melissa, so I fail to see why you aren’t speaking to him?”
I withdraw my hands and avert my eyes. My chest heaves as intense pressure sits on my chest. I squeeze my eyes shut, forcing the images away. “There is more to it,” I admit through gritted teeth.
“This is the complicated part?” Presley’s voice is soft and her touch tender as she tilts my face around, making me look at her.
My eyes open, and I stare at the woman I love, wishing I could tell her,wantingto tell her, but I have never uttered those words to another soul, and I don’t know how to say it.
What if she doesn’t want me anymore?
Or she thinks I’m less of a man?
The usual self-doubts resurface in my head like they do anytime I think of that night or anytime I’m forced to face the fact my brother is gay and planning to marry a man.
“I can’t say it,” I whisper, dropping my eyes again, hating how weak I am.
“Can’t or won’t?” she asks in a gentle tone.
I lift my eyes to her concerned ones. “Can’t,” I croak. I lace my fingers in her free hand. “I want to confide in you, Presley. Please believe me, but I can’t. Not yet.”
“You know you can tell me anything, Kent, and it won’t change the way I feel about you.”
“You say that now, but—” I cut myself off, unable to continue. Blood thrums in my ears and rushes through my veins, and my knee jerks off the floor. I squeeze my eyes shut again, batting at the horror replaying behind my closed eyes.
“It’s okay, Kent.” Presley’s reassuring tone and comforting touch reaches behind the terror, rescuing me from the dark hole. “Open your eyes, honey. Please, Kent. Open them for me.”
Pain stings the backs of my damp eyes when I find the courage to open them. “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head, cupping my face. “Don’t apologize. There’s no need.” She leans over, stretching across the console to plant a soft kiss on my lips. “Whatever it is, just know I am here for you. Whenever you want to talk about it, I will listen. And whatever you need me to do, I will do it, because there is nothing I won’t do for the man I love.”
My heart stutters in my chest, and I swear I stop breathing. My eyes lock on hers. “What did you say?” I whisper, unconvinced I didn’t just imagine it.
She kisses me again, but I’m so shocked I don’t even move my lips. She pulls back, smiling shyly. “I love you, Kent. I love you so much.”
“I love you too,” I say, snapping out of it. Pulling her over the console, I situate her on my lap. Sweeping hair off her shoulders, I let loose a massive grin, and the lingering darkness that threatens to resurface has been obliterated by her words. I bask in the warmth of her love as she smiles at me. “I’ve wanted to tell you, but I was scared,” I admit.
“Me too.” She nods, hugging me, and I wrap my arms around her back, never wanting to let her go. “I wasn’t afraid you wouldn’t say it back,” she explains in my ear. “Because you show me you love me in so many different ways.”
I ease back, looking into her face. “It’s scary because now you hold my heart in your hand,” I say, “and you want to cherish it, but you’re terrified you’ll do the opposite.” At least, that’s how I feel.
She shakes her head with tears in her eyes. “I’m holding your heart, Kent, and I will always cherish it and protect it, and I trust you to do the same with me. You and me is not what scares me. It’s everything outside of our control that does. We have this amazing love that burns bright, and I don’t want anything to extinguish it. But my life experiences have taught me to be guarded because everyone I love has been taken from me by external factors I couldn’t control, and that is the scariest fucking feeling in the world.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Presley
Kent was right, I think as the doorbell chimes the next afternoon. Lunchisan ambush. “Mom,” Kent growls. “What have you done?”
“What needed to be done,” Alex calmly replies, folding her hands on the table in front of her. A lavish spread of sandwiches, wraps, salad, breads, and cakes lies on top of the long table, and I knew there was far too much food for just the four of us. “You need to speak to Keaton and clear the air before his wedding. He’s hurting, and I know you love your brother and you can’t be happy with the way things are either.”
