Page 182 of The Sidekick

“I want to see all of your emotions. I want to be the one you come to because you know you’re safe with me, no matter how bad it is.”

“You’ll run,” I say flatly. He shakes his head hard.

“I don’t run, angel. I can’t help worrying at it until I figure it out. There’s always a solution if you keep trying.”

“I feel like a coward,” I whisper.

“You get up every day and face a hundred things I’ve never had to, angel. That’s bravery, not cowardice.”

I give him an incredulous look, but he doesn’t see it.

“Next one. Ready?”

I’m not really sure if I am, but I’m willing to listen. “Sure?”

“I want you to listen to me only. Not Trevor.”

I blink in surprise at that. How am I going to pull that off?

My hesitation makes him turn again to see my expression.

“If he demands something, you tell him you have to check with me first. If he gives you shit for it, walk away. I don’t care what it is. If he tells you to hand him a pen and you don’t like it, or you have even a second of hesitation you call or text me.”

“That’s going to get annoying for you,” I wince.

“No. It won’t.”

“There’s the set-in-stone voice again,” I sigh.

“What?” He sounds bewildered now.

“You say stuff, and it’s like a commandment or something. You chiseled it into stone and handed it to me. It’s how I know you’re serious and about to get mad if I argue.”

He chuckles lightly. I might be wrong, but it looks like he’s blushing. “Figured me out already, huh?”

“Not at all,” I giggle and look down at my curled toes. “Why?”

He follows my train of thought easily, which is weird. “Because you said you were glad that I can make his demands seem less important. I’m taking that job seriously. Very seriously.”

“Shouldn’t I deal with him on my own?” I ask with a defeated slump. “It feels like I’m using you. I don’t like it.”

“You aren’t using me. I’m setting this rule, not you. If anything, I’m a steppingstone to get to the point where you don’t need me to do it anymore.”

The end of that sentence perks my interest with the hint of vulnerability.

“It bothers you? That I might get to the point that I won’t need it?”

The muscle in his jaw clenches, and he looks away from me.

“Or it bothers you that I might get to a point where I won’t need you?” I push gently. His eyes snap to mine.

“You aren’t the only one that’s scared angel.”

My eyes widen over the words. Before I get a chance to say anything, he interrupts.

“Your turn,” he husks out and turns back to the stove.

I sit and debate what I want to say and what I might need from this relationship.

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