"But..."
He shakes his head, putting a finger to my lips. "You're not too much. You're not smothering anyone. You're caring and generous and you love people by taking care of them. That's not a character flaw. That's a gift most people would kill to have."
Fresh tears slip down my cheeks. "Then why does it always feel like I'm drowning people with it? I'm always too m-much for anyone to handle."
"You've been giving yourself to people who don't deserve you, sweetheart. People who take and take and never give anything back." He wipes my tears away with his thumbs. "But I see you, Scout. I see what you're doing and why you do it. And I'm not going anywhere. I promise you that."
I sniff, willing myself to get it together. "You say that now..."
"I mean it." His eyes are intense and unwavering. "You can take care of me. You can hover and pester and do all the things that make you feel loved and secure. And I won't leave. I won't push you away. I'll just hold you tighter. I'llcare for you, Scout. I know I'm rough around the edges, but I swear to god I'm trying."
I break completely and sob into his chest while he holds me like I'm something precious. He lets me take the weight I've been carrying alone since I was a little girl trying to earn her father's attention.
"You're not your father's savior," he whispers against my hair. "You're his daughter. And you've done more than enough for him. More than anyone should have to do."
My words are halting. "I don't-- I don't know h-how to stop trying."
"It's okay. Just let it all out. I've got you, Pretty Girl."
I cling to him, breathing in cedar soap and rain and the scent that's uniquely his. He's an anchor when everything else feels like it's spinning out of control. For the first time in my entire life, someone is taking care of me without me having to ask. Being good enough or useful enough doesn't matter.
And for once, I let him.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Pretty Girl," he whispers in my ear.
Falling asleep in his arms, exhausted and wrung out but somehow lighter happens. Silas holds me through the night, steady and solid and exactly what I need even when not knowing how to ask for it was the problem.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Scout
Iwake up wrapped in Silas. The motel room is dim, rain still pattering against the window in a steady rhythm. My eyes feel swollen from crying and my throat is still raw and scratchy. But his arms are solid around me.
For the first time in a long time, I can actually breathe.
"Morning," Si murmurs into my hair.
"Is it?" My voice comes out wrecked. "It feels like the middle of the night."
"It's almost nine. We should probably eat something." Ever the practical athlete. It's so Silas, it makes me like him more.
I don't want to move. Leaving this cocoon of warmth and safety where nothing can touch me sounds terrible. "Can we just stay here forever?"
"Don't worry, Pretty Girl. You just stay put. I think there's a diner across the street."
I smile, remembering the Original Hotcake House. "There is."
"All right." He climbs out of bed and starts pulling on clothes. "Anything special?"
I shake my head. "Just come back as quickly as you can."
Silas surprises me by donning his jacket and then leaning over me, snagging a kiss. The action is so out-of-left-field for him that he leaves me with my mouth open in a gentle O.
I get up and putter around in the bathroom, rinsing my mouth with mouthwash and splashing cold water on my face. By the time I'm finished making the bed, Silas returns with a brown paper bag of hot pancakes, scrambled eggs, hashbrowns, bacon, and steaming cups of coffee.
"You are my hero," I say, gladly accepting one of the cups of coffee. The first sip is bitter and burned, but I slurp it up. Coffee really is the nectar of the gods. Taking it in any format works for me.
We eat in bed with the styrofoam plates balanced on our laps, not talking much. Every bite of our breakfast is slathered in melted butter, making for a tasty but heavy meal. Silas plows through his entire plate of carb-lover's delight. When I push my plate away half-finished, he points to it.
