Page 82 of Finding Home
“Please,” she whispers, her voice breaking and with it my own freaking heart. “If you touch me, it will make it harder than it already is. I’m barely holding on. I feel like my heart is in a vice and it’s my own doing. I went and fell in love with you.”
She’s stunned me. I don’t know what to say. I can’t be the reason she hurts. Seeing her cry like this is ripping at my heart, but I also don’t want her to be somewhere she doesn’t want to be. I don’t know how she thinks that breaking both of our hearts right now is best. The thought of not having Chloe in this house, in my bed, in my life, is unimaginable.
I stare at her, taking in her every feature. The way her nose slopes and the freckles scattered across her cheek and forehead. The way her lashes flutter and the bow of her lips. She is the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen, and here she is ripping my heart out of my chest.
They say if you truly love someone, set them free, but is that truly love? Isn’t love fighting for someone? Showing them they’re worth a fight?
I don’t have time to even finish the thought, becauseChloe is sliding out of her chair and grabbing her small suitcase I didn’t even see beside the entrance from the hallway.
“I’ll text you to see when you’re back on duty,” she says as she passes me, and like a fucking idiot, I watch her walk away and listen as the door clicks behind her.
FORTY-SEVEN
EVERETT
Ipull the door open, about to leave for the store with Lila, but Brinley is standing on the other side, hand raised to knock. Seeing her is a stab to the gut I wasn’t expecting. When Chloe walked out yesterday, the last thing I expected was to see her best friend on my doorstep.
“Chloe’s not here,” I say, and she nods.
“I know. We need to talk.”
“Peanut, can you head up to your room? I’ll call you when it’s time to go.”
“But I want ice cream, Daddy. You said we could buy some at the store.”
I sigh and run my hand down my face, exhaustion fighting to take over. “Peanut, please. We can still get ice cream at the store, we’re just going to go in a bit.”
She pouts, bottom lip out as she stares at me. When I don’t relent, she sighs, shoulders sagging as she slowly climbs the stairs to her room.
I lead Brinley into the living room, and we settle on the couch. She doesn’t beat around the bush, diving right into it.
“You need to fight for her.”
“I need to respect her,” I say.
“How is letting her run in fear respecting her? As much as she says she didn’t want to teach in the city because she missed home, Iknow it was rooted in her fear. She feared that everything could go right there and everything could change. Willow Valley is her safe space. You made it not so safe, and now she’s running from you, and I know that if she doesn’t face this head on now, she’ll run from Willow Valley.”
I dip my head between my shoulders, running my hand over the back of my head. “I can’t fight her fear for her, Brinley. It’s not a matter of want, it’s a matter of not being able to.”
“I know, but all she needs is someone who’s going to stand by her as she fights it. You’re telling me you don’t know anything about fighting fear?”
She’s got me there. Chloe and the thought of Lila was all I needed to fight through the fear two days ago, and Chloe knew it. It’s exactly why she mentioned Lila and the fort and movie night. Why she showed up at the damn fire dressed completely inappropriately for the weather. She knew what I needed to fight fear.
I’m not someone who will work to convince someone to be with me. But the way Chloe kept saying she loves me and has given me a piece of her soul was almost like her begging me not to let her walk away. I’m hoping some time away allowed her to gather herself, because I have no plans of letting her spend another night not under this roof with me.
“You look like you have a plan,” Brinley says.
I nod and head down the hall towards what was Chloe’s room. She only took a small suitcase with her yesterday, meaning the rest of her stuff is still in her room. I find her suitcase at the back of the closet and open it on the bed as Brinley walks in.
“What thefuckare you doing, Everett Lawson?” she practically yells, and I stare at her with a raised brow. She crosses her arms waiting for an answer.
I turn and head back to the closet, grabbing hangers full of clothes, and take them back to the suitcase dropping them inside.
“Dumber than I thought,” Brinley muses. When I don’t respond she says, “So what? Your plan is to shove all her stuff into suitcases and leave it on the front porch for her to collect? Or do you plan to drop it off at her parents’?”
Ishake my head. “My plan,” I nearly growl, “is to get all of her stuff out of a room that’s not hers and upstairs and into ours.”
“Oh,” she says, deflating. “You could have just said something and I’d have been all over helping you pack.”
