“I will kill him too,” he growls, pressing me unimaginably closer to him.
It’s almost as if he wants to tuck me inside his chest for safety. His thudding heart echoes in my ears. Like a siren’s song, it coaxes me to continue to share these things with him. These things I don’t like to talk about, but I do—with him.
“I need names. Addresses. Next of kin.”
“It’s fine. It was a long time ago.” I let out a watery laugh.
“It’s not fine.”
“It’s what I’m working on with Dr. Nor.” I sigh. “So, I can tell the difference between real and perceived danger.”
“And you perceive me as a danger?”
“No.” I burrow into him. “Not you exactly. I know I’m safe with you. It’s more that my body reacts, which then causes a tug between my heart and my body, and it confuses my brain.”
He massages his fingers into my scalp. “Your heart versus your body? What does your heart say?”
I tilt my head up, meeting his stare. “That I trust you.”
“You deserved…deserve…better. Fuck them. Fuck Chase. Fuck Miles. Fuck everyone who ever hurt you. Whoever made you question yourself. You didn’t choose the wrong people; the wrong people took advantage of your kindness. You have sucha big heart, and all you want to do is be loved. There’s nothing wrong with that. You deserve that.”
“I want to believe that so much…” My voice cracks.
Eyes closed, I press my head against his chest, his fingers soothe with each caress against my scalp. Without saying anything, he scoops me up like I weigh nothing. He slides into the passenger seat, facing the still-open door, and positions me on his lap, cradling me in his arms. He just holds me tight.
“It’s the last thing I ever want to do, but I may fail you. I can’t promise you that won’t happen,” he rasps as if it hurts to speak.
“I know you won’t fail me.” I nuzzle into him, not even letting myself question what’s happening. All I want to do is lean into his warmth, his strength. “I know you have me.”
It’s not just all the evidence stacking up in support that Garrett Marlowe doesn’t just have me, but will always have me; it’s the certainty that fills me. For the first time, there’s no whisper inside me that I’m making a mistake with Garrett. I can trust him. I can trust that I’ve made the right choice in who I’ll run this race with.
“But I may…” He rests his chin atop my head. “I’m in a constant state of fear that I’ll fail the people I care about. That I’ll let them down, because I already did…”
“With Val?” I whisper.
“Yes.” I feel his throat bob.
I want to push him to open up to me, but I know from the dull ache in my own chest that he’s already revealed more to me tonight than he’s used to. Garrett keeps so much behind his almost constant frown and, sometimes, gruff snark. Just sharing his fear is huge for him. As greedy as I am for more of this man, I need to be okay with walking before we run together.
“It happened at the holidays. It’s why I don’t go back this time of year,” he says, his voice hoarse. “Bryce and Lara werein town. We were at this pub near my parents’ place on the Southside. We’d been drinking.”
I nod, thinking how Garrett never drinks. Soda. Coffee. The occasional fancy latte that I convince him to drink. Anker and I will indulge, but he never does.
“She had this junker car that was always having issues. We kept talking about getting her a new one but kept making excuses not to go to the dealership. Work. Family. Friends. It didn’t seem like a big concern, because we worked at the same hospital and could carpool or take public transit. She was getting off shift, and the car wouldn’t start. It was late and I’d been drinking, so she called a rideshare. I told her to text me when she got home. Thirty minutes later, I got the call about the accident. She was already gone.”
I tilt my head up to take him in. The streetlamp replaces the dying light from the sunset. The yellow glow mixes with the shadows, only allowing me to make out the downward curve of his lips.
“If I hadn’t been drinking. If I’d insisted on getting her a new car. If…”
“Ifs are as dangerous as expectations.” Hand placed on his chest, I trail it up until I find his cheek. His stubble rasps against my palms as I bracket his face. “You didn’t fail anyone.”
“Turnip,” he whispers.
I soothe my fingers against his cheeks. “Turnip.”
“I’m sorry,” he breathes.
“We don’t have to explain turnip, remember?”
