He pulls back and I snake out a hand, grab his wrist, staying him. “I didn’t mean it like that. I…” I sigh. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like talking about them—” Shame claws at the back of my throat. “Or admitting that it still hurts so much that they don’t love me for me.”
Quiet falls for a long moment.
Then he steps close again. “Why do you think that?”
“Besides the fact that they’ve made it clear I’m a disappointment in every single way?” I laugh bitterly. “Hell, I’m not even sure they love me at all.”
God, that sounds pathetic.
And I feel even more so when his eyes go gentle. “I’m sure they?—”
“Maybe,” I say quickly. “But the truth is that their love is transactional. They like practical things.Stablethings. Things with resumes and retirement accounts and simple answers when people ask what I do.”
“And you,” he says slowly, “don’t fit in that box.”
I snort. “No. Definitely not.”
“What did they want you to do for a career?”
“They wanted me to go to college and get a business degree. Or one in accounting was acceptable too, I guess.” I make a face. “Can you imagine me as an accountant?”
His eyes flick over mine, amusement clinging to the edges of the deep brown depths. “Nope.”
“Exactly.” I toss up my hands. “I barely passed my math classes in high school and the idea of sitting at a desk, doing the same thing day in and out makes me want to scream.”
“Is that why you want to take your trip?” he asks. “To do something different every day for a while?”
I sigh. Pause and consider that.
“No,” I eventually whisper. “I don’t think it’s that. I… God, I’ve been planning this for so long. Dreaming about it, researching every detail, but sometimes…” I shake my head. “Sometimes I wonder if I truly want to go—or if it’s just an excuse for me to run away.”
Quiet, heavy and raw, sits between us.
But I don’t see any judgment in his eyes.
He just asks, “What are you running away from, Stitch?”
My heart skips a beat. “From their expectations,” I whisper. “From the reality that I might really fail like they say I will. From the fear that I might have made a mistake in choosing this path. From…” My voice drops. “Waking up one day and discovering that I actuallyamthat disappointment they think I am.”
His face softens.
Then he gently tucks back my hair, even more gently says, “The only way to know sometimes, is to do the thing you’re most scared of.”
I look up at him.
And wonder if he’s talking about me.
Or himself.
Because he sure as shit isn’t talking about travel.
Twenty
Rhodes
The guys are sittingaround the kitchen table, devouring the cookies that Finn made while Chloe and Jake dash this way and that.
She’s having a playdate with her favorite pal from school, and I understand why she likes the kid so much.
