Page 88 of The Heartbreaker Next Door

He looked away, swallowing hard. When he spoke again, his words were quieter, but not weaker.

“I love Maverick, too. I can’t picture my life without you, either of you. I don’t want to.”

I’d imagined hearing those words so many times—on the porch at sunset, in the kitchen over coffee, even once in a fever dream where he’d said it without looking up from Excel—but not like this. Not with the desperate, bruised honesty that made me want to curl up against his chest and never leave.

“Dean, I⁠—”

“I know you don’t owe me anything,” he continued. “But I have to say it. I have to try, or I’ll regret it for the rest of my life.”

The silence between us was so thick you could rest your chin on it.

He took another step closer, so close that I could see the tiny, anxious vibrations in his hands. “Just tell me what to do,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me how to fix it. I’ll do anything.”

“I don’t want the Denver job,” I blurted. “I don’t want to move. I only took it because after you ghosted me for a week, I thought we were…that this was...”

“I know it looked like I didn’t care,” he rasped, “but I swear to God, Felicity, every second of every day I was thinking about you. Thinking about how to fix things. I just didn’t want to talk to you until I had a solution.” He exhaled. “I thought I had to prove to you that the ranch didn’t need anything from you. Prove that none of our relationship had anything to do with the ranch.”

I shook my head, voice trembling. “I know, I know that now. But you can’t just disappear into yourself every time something gets scary. You don’t get to shut me out when you feel out of control. That’s not how this works.”

“I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know how to do this, Felicity. But if you tell me what you need, I swear I’ll figure it out. I’ll talk, I’ll listen, I’ll try every damn day. I just can’t lose you.”

He was right there, close enough to touch. Close enough that I could see the panic in his eyes, the way his breathing stuttered through his chest. For the first time, I realized how much I’d needed to see him like this. Not because I wanted him to hurt, but because I needed to know that I wasn’t the only one falling and hoping the other would catch me.

I felt tears brimming in my eyes. “I don’t need you to...I just need you to not shut me out.”

He nodded. “I promise. I’ll stop confusing silence with strength. I won’t shut you out.”

I knew he wasn’t the only one who had a promise to make. “And I promise I won’t choose flight when I get scared. I’ll stay and fight. I’ll fight for us, even if it scares the hell out of me.”

I stared at him, waiting for the fear to come back, the constant underlying feeling that the other shoe was going to drop whenever anything good happened. It didn’t. It was just…gone, replaced by an ache so sharp and blinding that I didn’t know if it was relief or joy or terror that my life could actually be this good, that this man could actually love me.

He reached for my hand again, this time he pressed our palms together, fingers fitting perfectly, then bent his head to rest his forehead against mine. He was shaking, and so was I, and maybe it was the most honest either of us had ever been. That was all it took. Because in the next breath, I crashed into his arms and kissed him like we were both starving.

31

THE GREAT BUTTON MASSACRE

Dean

Ihad one rule for the day, don’t touch her.

I’d broken it within the first thirty seconds of speaking to her, but only because falling on your knees in front of the woman you’re desperately in love with felt more pathetic. I’d managed to keep my distance the entire day leading up to that, white-knuckling my way through the toasts, the first dance, the cake cutting—all of it—while she moved through my brother’s wedding like she hadn’t completely wrecked me.

Then she’d asked if we could talk later when she was done.

Later. As if I hadn’t already spent eight hours with a knot in my chest the size of a fist, as if I hadn’t already rehearsed every version of please don’t go I could think of. So no, later wasn’t going to work for me.

Which is how we ended up here, fully clothed, pressed against the inside of the guest cabin door, both of us shaking, her hands fisted in my shirt like she was afraid I might disappear. We’d kissed before, plenty of times, but none of those had felt like this. This felt less like a kiss and more like a pressure valve finally giving way.

Like the difference between holding your breath and drowning.

I lifted my hands and cupped her face, then moved and tangled them in her hair. She was holding the back of my neck, gripping it tightly.

Urgency roared in me.

I couldn’t get close enough to her.

I needed her more than I’d ever needed anything, and the knowledge was terrifying and electrifying in the same heartbeat. I needed to feel her skin against mine.