She flushed. “No. Maybe. That’s why this is so hard. I want that too—to let you use me—but it freaks me out. I want to be yours and run away at any time. I know that’s so selfish and flaky but it’s what I want.”
He nodded slowly. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
“What?”
“Whatever you want. Whatever you need. You call the shots. We take it day by day. Hour by hour if we have to.”
“You’d be okay with that?”
“Can’t be any stupider than what we’re doing right now.”
He wanted her to laugh, but her face crumpled. “God… we can’t do this. It’s going to be a disaster.”
“Then let it be a disaster. Fuck it.”
“You can’t just let things be a disaster.”
“Why not? Plenty of people do.”
Cheryl went very still. “I can’t afford another disaster, Patrick. Things can’t get worse for me, or I’ll lose my mind.”
He felt like punching himself. How had he forgotten about her mother? About her past?
“Let me have it,” he said. “If it goes bad, it’s my fault. I’ll tell everyone and so can you. I’ll take all the blame.”
Her lower lip quivered. “You’d do that for me?”
Patrick wasn’t sure how he’d stumbled onto this holy grail of promises, but he was going to keep hold of it like it was a winning lotto ticket. “It’s on me. All of it.”
Cheryl hesitated, and for a second, he thought she was going to bolt. He forced himself to stay still, to let her go if that’s what she needed to do. Instead, she pulled his hand, urging him onto his feet. “Okay, Patty-Bear.”
Feeling like he’d just kicked the winning goal in a tied game, he wrapped his arms around her. She was cold and trembling, smelling of perfume and cigarettes and night air. She was his.
“Whatever happens, it’s all my fault. Put the blame on me.” He held her close as her shoulders shook, and tears ran down his bare chest. “Oh honey, it’s okay. I promise.”
“That’s all I want,” Cheryl sobbed. “For it not to be my fault.”
He kissed her forehead. “That’s okay because it’s already my fault. It’s all on me, honey. I’m gonna take care of everything.”
She cried even harder, and he wasn’t sure why his words were affecting her so much, but it didn’t matter. He cupped the back of her head, only wanting to hold her closer, but then she leaned back and her mouth found his. It was a new kind of kiss. Soft and quiet. Cheryl’s tears washed down his cheeks and he felt transparent, like the sun coming through his curtains could have shone through both of them.
Cheryl pulled back, swiping the tears from her eyes. “Can we go to your room?”
It was the question he’d waited more than a thousand days to hear, but he’d never wanted to hear it while she was crying. “We don’t have to. You’re upset.”
“I know, but…” Cheryl kissed him again, deeper. Their lips fused, tongues winding, but this wasn’t like the motel. He didn’t need to prove he could handle her and she didn’t want him to. There was nothing to prove, only good places to go. He lifted her into his arms, the most precious cargo on earth. He felt her kick off her sneakers as he carried her up the stairs, letting them tumble downward. He smiled against her lips and held her even closer.
His room was still dark and quiet, but it felt completely different from the one he’d left to answer his door. The whole world had changed. He laid Cheryl on his bed and stood back to look at her.
“Patrick…?”
His time not knowing what Cheryl felt like was winding to a close. He probably only had minutes left. What were a few more seconds? “Let me look at you?”
“Okay…” she said, twisting to show off her thighs. “Like this?”
“Exactly like that.”
He studied her pleated skirt and her tight little t-shirt. “Are you doing a sexy schoolgirl thing on purpose?”
