Page 73 of Praising the Pitcher

“Fine,” I utter bitterly. “I’ll be right down. But if I ask you to leave, you better do it!”

Before he says a word, I slam the window shut and head downstairs. The question runs over and over in my mind …

Am I about to make a huge mistake?

NOAH

When the door swings open, I’m met face-to-face with the grumpiest, most beautiful little thing, and even though it’s clear she’s less than impressed to see me, she’s cute when she’s mad.

She wears the Christmas pajamas my sister gifted her earlier—without a bra, I notice—and her long blonde hair is pulled up into some sort of knot at the top of her head. She isn’t wearing an ounce of makeup, has a scowl the size of Texas, and yet, she’s gorgeous.

“Why are you here?” she blurts, folding her arms across her chest, and I’m not sure if it’s to hide her perfect tits from me through the thin green fabric or if it’s just another tell that she’s pissed.

“Because I fucked up,” I say, not knowing how else to word it. “I really, really fucked up.”

The whole ride over here, I didn’t know how I was going to tell her everything I wanted to say, but I knew I needed to. She deserves to hear it all, and I couldn’t let her get away without explaining my side.

Her dad cut her off—never so much as fighting for her. I’m not going to do that. If she wants me to leave after I’ve said what I need to say, I’ll do it. But I’m not going down without a fight because that’s what she deserves.

To be fought for.

“When, specifically?” She lifts an angered brow. “Was it when you showed up in my room, freaked out on me for talking to Benny, kissed me, and then told me to give him a chance?” she accuses, her voice chillingly mad. “Or when you took something deep that I told you and then used it to get under my skin again when you gave me the snow globe?”

I cringe at her words, hating how much of a fuckup I’ve been the past few days. In my defense, I had planned the snow globe deal before I lost my shit and kissed her. But still, I’ve really messed things up.

“All of it,” I mutter shamefully. “Every bit.”

I step closer to her but she steps back, and I fucking hate that she’s moving away from me, but I don’t push it. Instead, I root my feet to the ground.

“I know I shouldn’t have stormed in there when you were on the phone,” I tell her honestly, knowing it was messed up of me. “I should have just walked past and minded my own business.” I stare straight into her bright blue eyes. “But I couldn’t. I just … I couldn’t do it, Gigi.” My shoulders slump slightly, and I shrug. “I don’t regret kissing you though, because despite what I said after, it made me realize something. Well, maybe not realize it; I think I had already done that. But it made me unable to run from it anymore.”

She stares me down, her hard expression only flinching a little as she tries to seem unbothered. “And what’s that?” she grumbles. “Please, do tell.”

I take a step closer, and again, she moves away from me. I just want to close the gap, the need to touch her overwhelming. I reach out and cup her chin. She doesn’t like it, but with her back now to the wall, she has nowhere else to go.

I cave her in, keeping my fingers on her chin.

“I want you, Smoke,” I say, my voice raspy. “I’ve wanted you so badly for a while now.”

Her expression falters, even though she’s trying her best to fight it.

“You have a weird way of showing it then,” she utters, sucking in a breath. “Telling me to go out with other men.”

“I thought that’s what was for the best,” I say, defending myself because it’s the truth. I still think it’s probably for the best, but I guess she makes me selfish because I can’t stay away from her.

“For who?” rushes angrily from her perfect, plump lips.

“You, obviously!” I almost growl the words, frustrated with myself more than her. “I … I just thought—hell, I still think—you could do better. You deserve better.”

“Than what?” she whispers, her eyes dancing between mine as a thousand questions begin to swirl.

“Than me.” I swallow. “Smoke, a while back I got something taken from me. Something you deserve to have present in any relationship you’re in.”

“What is it?” she murmurs, her expression softening.

I stare down at her. This beautiful, strong, fierce woman who has no idea just how good she is. In every way. I wanted to build her up, and once I realized I may not be able to do that—fear that my own insecurities would project onto her—I backed away. But my sister is right. She isn’t my ex. And I’m nothing like her asshole of a father.

“Trust. I was never a jealous, insecure guy. Until I realized how even the people we love most can betray us.” I drop my gaze, putting one palm on the wall beside her head to steady myself. “I thought by pushing you toward someone else, maybe you’d be easier for me to stay away from.”