Page 113 of Body Shot

Hayden

I let Beck leave, my head whirling, my heart fluttering wildly.

He loves me?

Oh God. I love him too. So much.

A surge of something hot and powerful rushes through me, weakening my limbs. Sweet Jesus. I press a hand to my chest. I’m not supposed to feel this much. I’m not supposed to care this much. I should never have gotten involved with him.

I stumble across my living room with jerky movements and sink back down onto the couch to stare blindly across the room. My skin breaks out in an icy sweat and my heart beats so fast I’m afraid it will explode out of my chest. My head spins.

I’m in love with him.

I’ve missed him so much the last few days. I was terrified to hear that he’d gone back to Boston and might stay there. Since I ran into Marco that afternoon, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that. I ended things with Beck, but I’ve been miserable since then. I wondered if I did the right thing, wondered if I should go to Beck and ask him to forgive me, and then hearing he might be gone for good filled me with despair.

I’ve thought a lot about what Aunt Gina said. Carrie’s tried to tell me something similar. And then Beck.

Do I want my life to be different?

I never thought so. I resisted when everyone tried to tell me I needed to have more fun.

I let my thoughts turn to my parents. To my memories of them. Their love for me. The fun we had on trips and adventures. Would they be disappointed in me?

That makes my heart lodge in my throat, choking me. I wanted to make them proud. I wanted to find a cure for cancer to make up for their lives being cut so short. I wanted to make a difference. I didn’t want to feel things because it hurts so goddamn much when you lose people you love.

Yeah . . . Beck.

It wasn’t a conscious thought, but I guess somehow I knew that if I worked hard and stayed too busy to think about things, I wouldn’t have to feel. And I guess that means . . . Beck was right.

I bury my face in my hands, my breath hot and sharp in my chest, my eyes scalding. The idea that my parents would be disappointed instead of proud makes me ache. But maybe they’d be a little proud. I have done some good things.

Maybe they’d want me to have both—my career, my mission, and a life. Love.

Tears flow now, hot tears that I’ve been holding back for year. I sob like I haven’t since I was a child, until I’m spent and exhausted, eyes swollen and throat raw.

Beck loves me. And I love him. I pushed him away because of my fear of feeling too much. That’s really what it’s all about. I can hide behind my research all I want, but the truth is, I’ve fallen in love and I’m terrified.

It still bothers me that he didn’t tell me about his money, but really, I don’t care about that. Apart from a racy car, he lives a simple life, I’ve seen that—his modest condo, his dedication to making the business a success, which apparently he doesn’t even need. Okay, yes, he has some expensive hobbies, but he certainly doesn’t live like a billionaire. I respect that. Maybe his wealth is a part of who he is, but it’s atinypart, compared to all the other parts of him I’ve gotten to know—his honor and courage, his determination and loyalty. Despite his vow that life should be fun, he gave a huge chunk of his life to serve his country. Hedeservesfun.

I saw the look of vulnerability on his face as he talked. As he apologized. As he talked about his parents and how they never said anything about loving him or wanting him back—not to run the company, but because he’s their son. It hurts my heart to think of him being rejected like that. It makes me want to hold him. Tell him thatIlove him. Because he deserves to be loved.

And I saw that same vulnerability as he told me he loves me. He’s the guy who doesn’t do relationships, but yet he loves me. He wanted to help me.

He came and apologized. He told me he loves me. Maybe it’s not too late for us.

I jump to my feet with a burst of nervous energy and pace across the room.

I know what fear is like, too. I know how hard it is to open yourself up to rejection. I experienced it as a kid, when I’d been made fun of. I remember how afraid I’d been to open myself up to Carrie’s friendship. I remember how boys painfully ignored me. I remember the burning crush I had on Phil Chang, my belief that we had so much in common he would want to go out with me, and his crushing rejection.

I remember losing my dad, and then my mom, and the terror of being alone in the world, the anger at how unfair it was that they’d been taken from me.

I remember Beck telling me about his fears and how he conquered them. He’s the bravest man I know.

I want to be worthy of his love. I want to be as brave as he is. How can I show him that?

My knees wobble as I approach the building the next afternoon, my belly full of small winged birds, my heart pumping blood hotly through my veins. I’m way early, but that’s okay.

Inside I’m greeted by a guy with shoulder-length blond hair, a deep tan, and an Australian accent. “G’day,” he says. “How can I help you?”

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