“I—” His breath stutters. “I didn’t think. I just—”
“I know,” I say, pressing my forehead to his chest, feeling his heart hammering wildly beneath my cheek. “I know.”
His arms wrap around me, crushing, protective, like he needs to hold onto me so he doesn’t fall.
“That was my first fight,” he admits hoarsely. A humorless laugh, full of disbelief. “I didn’t think I was that guy.”
I pull back enough to look at him. “You are,” I say softly. “When it matters.”
Something settles in his expression, fear, awareness, acceptance.
“Are you okay?” He exhales, long and shaky, then cups my face with trembling hands.
I nod, my legs unsteady.
He pulls me close, his body still vibrating with adrenaline. Then he lowers his mouth to mine and kisses me long and deep. “I’ll never let anyone hurt you,” Beck murmurs against my lips.
I believe him.
“Come on.” I lace my fingers through his. “Let’s go home.”
So Bumpy
Beck
Present
Gracie is quiet on the drive home, her head turned toward the window. Unease stirs in my chest, fear that she’s changed her mind, that she already regrets choosing me. But her hand stays on my knee the entire drive. Steady. Reassuring.
Finally, I can’t take it anymore.
“Gracie,” I say softly. She turns toward me.
“What’s going on? What’re you thinking?” The question hurts to ask. I’m usually good at reading her, one glance is enough, but now she’s opaque. I can’t tell if she’s guarding her thoughts or if I’m just too raw to seeclearly.
Her eyes drop to her lap, and my stomach sinks with them. I brace myself.
“I’m scared,” she admits.
My first instinct is to lash out, to protect my heart before she can break it, but I force myself to breathe. To listen.
“It’s okay,” I say. “I am too.” I swallow, the next words scraping out of me. “Can you tell me what scares you the most?”
I stop at a red light and glance over. She looks pensive, lost in thought. I wait, even as her silence stretches out and becomes unbearable.
Finally, she blurts out, “I’m scared we could lose everything. That I’ll screw it up like I always do.” She exhales hard, the words tumbling faster now. “I’m not good at relationships. I never have been. I make bad choices. I stay too long when I shouldn’t, I leave when I should stay, and I hurt people I don’t mean to hurt.” She shakes her head. “Look at Brandon. I picked him. That was on me.”
She swallows and keeps going, like she’s afraid that if she stops she won’t finish. “We didn’t grow up seeing how this is supposed to work. We never knew our dads. We never saw what a healthy family looked like. What if we try and get it wrong? What if it ruins us?”
Her voice cracks. “What if it ruins our moms too? They’ve had each other forever. If this falls apart, they’ll feel like they have to choose sides. I can’t live with that.”
She finally pauses, her breath shaking. “I’ve spent my whole life telling myself there was a reason we never crossed that line. That maybe it was because I wasn’t good enough. Or safe enough. Or worth the risk.”
I don’t interrupt her. I let the silence settle, let her breathing slow. Then I reach for her hand, gentle but sure.
“Okay,” I say quietly. “Let’s take this one at a time.”
She looks at me, eyes wide and wet.
