Page 37 of Dandelions and Smoke

She pulls her hands from mine and wipes aggressively at the tears still rolling over her rosy cheeks as if she’s personally offended by them.

This is what she’s been holding on to.

This pain. This fear. This belief.

The way her reality slams into me leaves me feeling like I’ve been bulldozed by the department’s rig. My throat constricts, and I swallow hard.

“How am I supposed to let you in? How? How could I expect you to choose me when I wouldn’t even choose myself? When this is what happens!” she croaks, looking at me, absolutely devastated.

Suddenly, it dawns on me, and everything makes sense. The way she’s pushed me, the reason she’s kept her distance, it’s all because she’s been afraid.

“Rory, you’re not a mess,” I start, but her scoff cuts me off.

“You have no idea how hard I work to appear as if I have it together. My thoughts fire in multiple directions all at once, my actions are impulsive, and my words always come out too fast. If I don’t make list after list, I usually forget what needs to get done. And damn it all if I forget where I put it.”

I try to protest, but she shakes her head.

“You don’t get it. My mind is nothing but chaos, stuck in fight-or-flight. It feels like I have 37 tabs open at a time with no idea which one the music is coming from. Or sometimes I hear those jingles on repeat, ya know, like the ‘cars for kids’ one. I make jokes, and everyone laughs them off, but it’s not always funny. Even right now, do you hear me? It’s like I don’t know when or how to shut up. I’ve unloaded a lifetime of trauma on you, but don’t worry, I’ll overanalyze this over and over again later.”

Her brows furrow, and her electric-blue eyes bounce between mine. For the first time since seeing her again, she looks at me the way she did that first night, with an unguarded tenderness, and my heart shatters.

Shaking, she wraps her arms around herself like the adrenaline is finally wearing off, and she’s finally noticing the chill in the air.

Without a second thought, I pull off my hoodie, drape it over her, and draw her close. It swallows her up, appearing more than double her size, but she stops shivering. I open the passenger door and lift her onto the seat before she can protest, turning the vents on the dashboard so the heat wraps around her. Instead of responding right away, I make sure she’s warm, waiting for her body to relax under my hands as I rub them over her arms.

After a minute, her breathing returns to normal, though tears still well in her eyes, waiting to fall. Lifting my hand to her face, I gently wipe at the tears still there, letting my hand linger as my thumb brushes over her cheek, comforting her in a way that I know my words can’t yet do.

“Is this why you’ve avoided me all this time? Because this is what you believe?” I ask her, lifting my other hand to cup her face.

She stares back at me with wide eyes, and even right now, looking completely devastated, she’s breathtaking. We’re face-to-face as I stand outside the truck, and though I hold her face in my hands, she averts her eyes, looking down as her chin trembles.

“We had a perfect night. You looked at me like I was someone special, and I didn’t want to ruin that by you realizing I’m not.” She blinks, and her tears spill over. “I hid because no one has ever looked at me like that before, and I-I didn’t want to mess that up.”

She wanted something she could hold on to and watch like a rerun of her favorite movie.

I take a deep breath, opening myself up in a way that I never have before, and lift her head so she has to look me in the eye.

“Tell me, Rory. How am I looking at you now?” I ask her, hoping she sees in my eyes how special I truly believe she is. I tilt my head down, trying to convey everything that she makes me feel. “I’m sorry for everything that you’ve been through and for everything that has led you to believe that you’re too much, or that you’re some sort of a mess.”

“Garrett,” she chokes out. “I am.”

I drop my hands, running one over my face, frustrated that she can’t see herself the way I do and knowing that I can’t convince her otherwise.

“Fine, then so am I. If you think that’s what you are, then that’s what I want, Rory,” I admit, heart pounding so loud I’m sure she can hear it as she gasps.

“I’ll take your messy. I’ll take your chaos, and I’ll do everything I can to help quiet the noise when it gets to be too much. Let me be your safe place. Let me carry the heavy, and you can help me carry mine because, damn it.” I rock back, looking up before stepping back into her. “Before you, I was a man barely breathing, gasping, but inhaling nothing but smoke. You showed up and in one night became my oxygen.”

I take her small hand in mine as a soft pink fills her cheeks and a glimmer of something hopeful returns to her eyes. Kissing the inside of her wrist, I shift her hand so that it holds my cheek, and I lean in.

“I choose us.”

I can see the fight behind her eyes and the moment it drains out of her. Her shoulders settle, and a small smile forms on her face. Using the sleeve of my hoodie, she wipes her cheeks gently this time and uses her grip on my face to pull me closer until our foreheads meet.

“So answer me. How am I looking at you now?”

Her breath stutters as her gaze locks onto mine, but before she answers, I close the distance, meeting her lips with my own, kissing her with everything I have been holding onto all this time.

Instead of pulling away, she kisses me back, confirming all of my suspicions about her staying away and shattering every fear. She meets my lips and deepens the kiss as she dives her tongue into my mouth. Wrapping my arms around her, I pull her closer to me, holding onto her now the way I’ve been holding onto her memory.