“What if—”
There came that word again, and she couldn’t afford to be distracted. “Ifs belong in fairy tales.” She shook her head and put every ounce of pleading in her voice. He wouldn’t ignore her if she truly demanded something. “Please leave, Nicholas.”
He stilled completely, and then he nodded, a dip of his head.
She didn’t look up when he left, closing the door quietly behind him. She figured she had a little while before her brother came back. Plenty of time for her to crawl under the cheap comforter and sob.
She didn’t budge until she felt big hands pulling her close. The motions were awkward, but not hesitant. Her brother arranged her so she was tucked in tight next to his larger body. “I’m going to kill him,” he said, and it was one of the calmest, most alarming declarations she’d ever heard. Listening to that, a person could believe a more reckless Jackson had gone ahead and burned down a store to avenge his sister.
“You are not. You said you don’t do illegal stuff.”
“I’ll make an exception.” His hand ran up and down her back.
“He told me he loved me and he wants to try again,” she said miserably.
He snorted. “No shit.”
She leaned away. “You don’t sound surprised.”
“You know what the security code on his house is? Our birthday. Yeah, I believe he’s still hung up on you.”
She swiped at the wetness on her cheeks. “What? How do you know his security code?”
“Not important.” He pressed her face back against his chest. “I’m guessing you don’t want him.”
“I don’t know if he can love all of me. I can’t do everything all over again and then pick up all the pieces when he quits.”
“There’s nothing wrong with all of you.”
There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re going to be fine.
He meant well, but, ugh. She grit her teeth, unable to stop herself from saying something. “I always hated when you said that, you know. It made me feel pressured to pretend I was fine and I’m not fine.”
Jackson stroked her hair for a while, his chest moving beneath her cheek. “I never meant for you to feel like that,” he said finally. “I only meant to say you were perfect.”
Perfect?
Jackson, who more than anyone, had seen her at her lowest, thought she was perfect? “I’m imperfect.”
“Yeah, so’s everyone.” His voice dropped, fumbling. “But there’s nothing bad about that.”
Oh.
His voice grew stronger when she didn’t respond. “You are who you are and I love you.”
She drew each word close to her heart, using them as tiny torches to illuminate the scary loneliness.
She’d done the right thing, though it hurt. This. This was what she needed. People who could see all her imperfections and find beauty in them. It was possible.
I deserve compassion.
She rested her head against his chest.
I deserve love.
Chapter 21
“OLIVIA?OLIVIA.”
