"Sienna—"
I shake my head. I need to say this. He shared so much of his past with me, I want to do the same. I want him to know, to be able to understand me—the pain I’m healing from, the baggage I still carry—so if he’s going to run away, he can do it now. I’d rather know this isn’t going to work out now, than hope and believe it will, and be let down and heartbroken later.
I know that’s not fair. I know he isn’t my family or James, but I still... I have to do this, for him, for me.
"I gave her... everything. My time, my energy, my love. I did the same with everyone, really. Believed that if I gave enough of myself, maybe someone would want to keep me around." I sigh. "Then I met James, and I thought... finally. The universe was rewarding me. Someone actually chose me." A bitter laugh escapes me. "But I walked in on them together.”
His growl is low, dangerous, completely at odds with the way he interlaces our fingers, as if he’s trying to be there for me while holding his anger at bay. But it soothes me, makes me feel like I’m not alone in my feelings.
That if we had known each other before, he might have been there for me. It leaves me with a warmth I want to hold onto, cherish.
But I’m so scared this is all just a dream. That life can’t really turn out this way for me. That someone could hold me in such high regard, be so devoted, respectful, even love me.
My voice shakes as I continue, "At the time, James was my fiancé, and Aubrey was pregnant with his child."
His thumb strokes the back of my hand, and I take a deep breath.
"When I told my parents, they chose her. Said family was more important. That I needed to get over it for the sake of their grandchild."
"They abandoned you." His voice is as cold as ice.
I take a step back, but he gently tugs me forward until I'm standing between his thighs.
I meet his gaze, biting my lip to stop myself from letting the tears fall.
He caresses my cheek, then pulls me onto his lap and into his arms.
Something in me simply… surrenders in his embrace. His warmth soothes me and I snuggle closer, whispering into his neck, "You're right. I never thought about it that way, but they did."
"I'm sorry," he says softly, his voice laced with sadness as he massages my nape.
It's not on him to apologize, but I understand why he did, he knows how it feels to be left behind. Both of us were abandoned by the people who were supposed to look out for us. Left broken and alone to try and pick up the pieces.
Our stories might be different, but in a way, we're one and the same, and I want to offer him the same comfort he's giving me.
I wrap my arms around his shoulders and hug him tightly. He stills for just a moment, but then I settle more into his body and he pulls me closer.
There's an underlying current running between us, a thread of desire, yet there's so much more. I want him to be happy. To put himself first. I want him to not feel like a burden in this world, to know he's important to someone, to me.
"Please don't apologize," I finally say, then chuckle softly. "After all, if it weren't for that I wouldn't have come here."
He squeezes my back. "I would have found you even if you didn't."
I pull back to look at him, and the certainty in his eyes takes my breath away. He says it as if it's the simplest truth in the world—that the universe would have always bent itself to bring us together, and if it didn't, he would have forced it to.
And perhaps what's even crazier, is how much I want to believe him.
I rub my forehead, dragging my hands into my hair, then sigh. "I must be losing my mind. I just met you, not even twenty-four hours ago. I don’t even know your name and yet…” I want to know what life would look like beside you.
His expression shifts as he hangs his head, his tone sad, forlorn. “My creator never gave me a name.”
I gasp. “But you have to have some sort of identification or something.”
“I use John Smith as a fake name to get whatever I need but I don’t have a real name.”
Yet again, I can see just how much life has failed him, and I hate it. How can I help him? What can I do to try and heal his wounds?
“Would you give me one?” His question draws me back and I can do nothing else but gape at him.
