Page 53 of Sweet Shots

“You like to push my buttons.”

I grin. “There’s one I like to push.”

He chuckles, his face splitting into a grin. It’s goddamn beautiful.

“You should do that more often,” I say.

“Call you out?”

“Smile.”

His eyes widen, seeming surprised by my bluntness. I have so much to teach this man to make him comfortable in his own skin, and I can’t fucking wait for it. The arguments he’s goingto put up will be memorable, I can already tell. He’s sharp with his tongue and quick with a comeback. I love it.

“This is fantastic.” I point to the food with my fork, wanting to give him a break from this back and forth. I already complimented the food, but he likes praise and needs the reassurance and I have no problem giving it to him when it’s deserved.

“Is it? I’m not so sure.” He looks down at it, frowning.

“I wouldn’t lie to you.”

He flinches, and I didn’t mean it as a way to call him out. It just came out of my mouth, which happens from time to time.

“I’m sorry about that,” he says.

“That wasn’t a dig.”

“Still.”

I shrug. “Well, now you know it bothers me. Don’t do it again.”

“I won’t. I swear.”

He’s already said that, but I guess it just needed to be said again.

“Then it’s done.”

I go back to eating but feel his gaze on me. I ignore it, not knowing if he wants to complain about something, ask about something, or if he’s just admiring. Whatever it is, he can figure it out himself. I’ll let him take this step. I can’t give him direction all the time.

“How do you do that?” His words are so quiet, and I can tell it was a struggle to get them out.

“Do what?” I ask casually, not sure what he’s talking about.

“Just let things go… How do things not bother you for days? How do you forgive people? How doesn’t the stress and worry pile up and weigh you down?”

This is a pretty heavy conversation for breakfast, but I won’t complain. He’s showing me more of himself. He’s opening himself up, being vulnerable with me. It’s exactly what I wanted.

I take the last bite of my food, swallow, then wipe my mouth and sit back in my chair. I smile at him before answering.

“I grew up dealing with a lot of shit, but I had an amazing mother who never let it get to me. It helped that she led by example, never showed how worried she was even when cancer was eating away at her body. She still smiled, still laughed, still told me not to let things get to me and to keep living my life because we only have one to live and who wants to waste it being miserable?”

I huff out a laugh, picturing her smile and the sound of her laugh. It was only me and her growing up. Just the two of us. Looking back, I can see how our life would have had a lot of people overwhelmed with stress. It wasn’t always easy. Bills piled up, we didn’t always have a full fridge or cabinets, electricity didn’t work sometimes, but we had each other.

“You’re lucky.” Mikah’s voice has me coming back to the present, and I look up to see him watching me with glossy eyes. Almost like he’s on the verge of crying. It makes me feel terrible. I’ve skimmed the surface with what he dealt with just by readingwhat he shows the world, but I bet what he has hidden deep down is much worse than I can imagine.

“Yeah, I am.”

I’m not sure if he wants to talk about this or leave it at that. So I stay silent and keep watching, waiting for him to make the call.

“My mother was… not the motherly type,” he starts. “She made it very clear I wasn’t wanted. That I was nothing more than a nuisance. She didn’t take care of herself, never mind me. And that’s just the tip of the miles-long iceberg of my life.”

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