Page 89 of Outspoken

He squeezes me tighter, kissing the side of my head. “No one hates you.”

“But…I broke your trust and…”

“You still have my trust. It’s okay to have setbacks.”

“This isn’t a setback, Miguel. This isme. This isalwaysme. I fuck up. I’m stupid and pathetic and—”

He gently turns me around, and I avoid his gaze as he wipes mascara streaks from my cheeks with his thumbs.

“It’s okay to have setbacks,” he echoes. “What I admire about you is how you always get back up and try again. You fight it. You’re so strong, and I wish you would see that.”

I finally glance up, unsure if I can handle looking him in the eye. Once our gazes lock, though, what I see makes my tears flow harder. His deep brown eyes are actually filled with admiration, and I don’t understand why. I’m a mess. I fucked up. But he’s looking at me like I’m still on that pedestal right where he placed me the night we met—right where he has kept me all these years despite the stories and drama. He’s crazy.

Crazy.

“I’m so glad you called me,” he says, the deep tones of his voice soothing my sobs. “I know I hurt you, so thank you for trusting me.”

I can’t speak as he brushes away more tears and mascara. I can only gaze into his soft eyes, confused and comforted and split into so many emotions I’m unsure how they all fit inside me.

“I’m so glad you’re safe, mi amor.”

My love.

I shake my head, his words squeezing my heart. “I know what that means. You shouldn’t call me that. It’s too painful right now.”

Sadness crosses his face a moment before he nods. “Okay. Mi amiga.” He flashes a hint of his dimple, a glint of playfulness in his eyes.

I know what that means too:my friend.

The corner of my mouth lifts. “Dork,” I whisper.

His smile widens, revealing his full, handsome dimple that I've missed so much. As we gaze at each other, enjoying the lightened mood, something I’ve never felt washes over me. It’s a surreal, almost out-of-body experience. It makes every part of me hum.

Miguel is here. He’s just here, looking at me. Holding me. Here, even though I’m a mess. He’s with me in this disaster, being playful and kind and giving me his complete attention like nothing else in the world matters.

We’re simply here. Together. Seeing each other.

This is a place I’ve never been, a feeling I’ve never had, and I desperately don’t want it to end.

I need him.

I touch the slight stubble on his cheek—a reflex—and the next moment I’m kissing him. He doesn’t pull away or reject me. He sighs against my mouth, pressing closer, but not in a hungry way. Even as he cups one of my cheeks and sighs again, the kiss remains sweet and tender.

I’m completely lost in the feeling of his mouth on mine.

I need more.

He breaks the kiss, his eyes smiling warmly at me. “Let’s get you home. You should rest.”

Lowering my gaze to the floor, I shake my head. “I just…”

He cups my hands in the center of his chest, pressing them against his heart. “What is it?”

I squeeze my eyes shut because in no way do I like being this damn vulnerable. “I can't go home yet. This will probably sound selfish, but I…I just need…I need to feel better. I’m so tired of feeling shitty all the time. I can’t escape it, and I need to. There have been times when I've felt happy with you. If we could…” I open my eyes to meet his gaze. “Make me feel something. Anything besides this emptiness. Please…”

He stares in shock, blinking. Then he wets his lip and his eyes search the kitchen counter behind me as he thinks.

“Here?” he asks.

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