Page 67 of When The Mountains Held Us

“So, I meant to mention this last night, but then you went and distracted me, and I forgot.”

My stomach flips at the insinuation and my blush deepens, but I ignore it, opting instead to pretend that the thought of his hands in my hair doesn’t send my heart and head into a tailspin. “Mention what?”

“There’s a job in a town a few hours from here. They’re bringing in a few of our guys to help out. It should only be three days.”

“Oh.” My heart sinks at the thought of him being gone. Maybe this is a good thing. A little space. A little clarity. A little time to sort through the turmoil in my mind on my own.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mention it sooner. I was going to bring it up after the bar closed but… well, things were a bit heated there.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry about that. I had no right to get that upset about Layla.” I hide my face behind the curtain of my hair, my eggs suddenly fascinating as I avoid Levi’s gaze.

“You have nothing to be sorry for.”

“I do, though. You’re not… I mean, we’re not…” Together? Is that what I mean?

Levi is quiet, and the weight of what he wants to say hangs like a guillotine above us.

“We’re not what?” he prompts, and, dammit, can’t he leave it alone? I don’t presume to know what he’s thinking, but I guarantee the things he said last night were just in the heat of the moment.

I’m on my knees here, darlin’. Have you figured it out?

“I don’t want to assume.” My voice is soft, my head bowed. I can’t look him in the eyes. Embarrassment pinks my cheeks.

Levi pushes his chair back and rounds the island until the heat of him envelopes me. Still, I don’t look up.

He waits a minute, as if allowing me to decide whether I’m going to lift my head or not. I can’t though. I’m frozen in time, shame coursing through me. It’s not the shame of what little we shared last night, but rather shame at the tiny voice in my head that thought it might be different this time, might mean something. A finger under my chin tilts my head until I’m peering up into deep green eyes.

“I want you to assume. All those thoughts swirling through your head right now? They’re normal. They’re valid fears. But I want you to fight them this time. I see you, Oakley. I see the way you question yourself and the way you question others. I can’t blame you for that. But I need you to fight, baby. You deserve to be loved and cherished, but how can you accept someone else’s version of that when you don’t believe you deserve it?”

His words echo through my mind, bouncing around and chipping at the wall I’ve built around myself. I’ve built a fortress that screams, “I’m not worthy!”

My whole life, I’ve allowed these self-deprecating thoughts to seep into me until they’ve fused with my soul and turned me into someone I don’t want to be. I’ll admit, Travis didn’t change any of that. He didn’t even try, but I didn’t either.

I didn’t fight to stop the thoughts. I’ve been cruel to myself for far longer than Travis ever was. I’m not excusing what he did, or the hand he had in pushing me down until I felt like I was worthless. But how was he able to shove me down that far if I wasn’t already acting like I deserved it?

Maybe the way we receive love is a reflection of how we view ourselves. Levi is right. I’ve spent way too long wishing I was someone else, while simultaneously hating myself.

“Just promise me you’ll try?”

“I promise,” I whisper, and though my voice is weak, I mean it with every fiber of my being.

“Attagirl,” he murmurs against my skin as he plants a soft kiss on my forehead.

He towers over me, and I take a minute to fully appreciate the size of him. Our size difference would normally intimidate me, but I feel nothing but safe and protected in his presence.

Maybe this is what he’s been trying to show me all along. That even though I’ve been hurt before, there is still someone out there worth fighting through my own barriers for.

“Just gonna run upstairs and change quickly,” he says, and I miss the warmth of his body the moment he steps away.

When he returns a few minutes later, dressed in a pair of dark wash jeans and a gray T-shirt that hugs his muscles perfectly, he moves back in front of me and places another gentle kiss on my temple. I can’t help but be a little sad that he’s leaving.

“When do you leave?”

He sighs and steps back, bending to grab a large duffel bag off the floor and swinging the strap over his shoulder. I frown as I watch him. I don’t want him to go, even for a few days.

“Now. I’m meeting the guys at the shop, and we’ll head out from there.”

I nod my understanding, fighting back the tears that prick my eyes, not wanting him to see how much I don’t want him to leave.