Page 32 of The Chad Next Door
“Goodnight,” he murmurs again, and then he’s gone.
Chapter Fourteen
Chad
October 19
I’m an idiot. A completeand utter fool. Stupid, selfish, impulsive, thoughtless… I could go on and on. And yet knowing this doesn’t change the fact that I kissed Hope last night, which is quite possibly going to be the biggest mistake of my life. And I didn’t just kiss her. Ikissedher. I carried her to my bed and almost ignored the warning bells clanging in my head, telling me that certain things cannot be undone and I need to be careful.
By some miracle, that warning won out in the end, and I don’t want to think about what might have happened if it hadn’t. I’ve been down that road before, and I’ve seen the danger that comes from moving into things too quickly. I won’t let that happen again. I can’t. If I’m going to be with someone, I can’t risk her taking my heart when she leaves, and she deserves more than halfhearted commitment on my end.
“She’s twenty-four,” I growl as I scramble some eggs because apparently I need the reminder.
“That didn’t stop you last night.”
My head snaps up, but it’s just Hank, who looks a little too amused for my liking as he sits at the kitchen table.
I grip the whisk a little tighter. “I didn’t—”
“I know,” he says, holding up a hand. “My door was open to let in the heat from the fire, so I heard…well, everything.” He turns a bit pink, though I can’t imagine what he heard could have been worse than some of the things he’s written in his novels. Still… “There’s no question that the two of you have chemistry.”
“She’s twenty-four,” I repeat.
He chuckles. “So you’ve said. That’s not that big of a gap, you know.”
“Twelve years.”
“I’ve seen worse.”
I growl, which is as ridiculous as it is unhelpful. “She has the kids.”
“I barely know you, Chad, but even I know you want kids.”
“I’m only in town for—”
“Why are you looking so hard for reasons that it won’t work?” Hank asks, raising an eyebrow.
I wish I had an answer that sounds better than, “I don’t know if I can love her.” Apparently I just said that out loud because Hank’s other eyebrow shoots up to match the first. I lean against the counter, taking a deep breath and double checking to make sure Hope and the kids haven’t left their rooms yet.
“I’ve been in love before,” I mutter, folding my arms like that might protect me. “It’s only been a few months since she broke my heart, and I don’t think I…” This feels strange, baring my soul to a guy I barely know, but I can’t keep holding on to this and expecting the wounds to heal. “I’m not sure I have a heart left to give away. And Hope deserves so much.”
She basically said she loves me last night, which sounds impossible but weirdly feels…plausible. And it’s not because I’m so great and lovable; I’m pretty much the opposite. Somehow, she’s worked her way into my life just like I’ve apparently infiltrated hers, and that makes this all so much scarier. I’m not afraid of much, but I am terrified of loving and losing.
Hank smiles like I’ve just told him I’m scared of roller coasters (which I am, by the way—I don’t trust them). He thinks I’m being overdramatic, but he understands that this is a real fear. For a guy who keeps to himself, he seems to understand people pretty well. “I’m no expert in love,” he says gently, “but I watched you with that family last night. You have plenty of heart in you, and it would be stupid to throw something like this away just because you’re scared. Yeah, you might get your heart broken again, but I think that’s the point of love. It’s taking a risk even when you know it could end badly. But when that love endures and grows into something eternal? That’s got to make all of that risk worth it.”
I’ve never seen love reach that point. I’ve helped end too many marriages in my job. I watched my own father break my mother. Even Lloyd, who fiercely loved my mom, ended up heartbroken when she died. Every relationship has problems, and in my experience, even the ones who make it end up slightly bitter at the end of the day because nothing is ever perfect.
“I’m not going to tell you what to do,” Hank says, adjusting his glasses, “but from an outside perspective, you and Hope could be really good for each other. In other words, you seem like you could use a little Hope in your life. Get it?”
“Har har,” I grumble, but he’s right. I don’t remember the last time I ever felt hopeful, but she makes it so easy to dream about a better future for myself. One where I’m not alone. It’s so easy to imagine having the kids every night. Getting to dance with them in the firelight. Making breakfast for more than just myself. I have wanted that so desperately my entire life, and for the first time in a long time, it feels like it could be within reach.
That sounds insane, and I know it. I don’t know enough about this woman to think I have a clue who she is. Apparently she wants to be an astronomer, but beyond that? I don’t know her dreams or her worries. I don’t know her favorite color or what she likes to eat. I don’t know what she would do if something put her in danger, or what makes her laugh, or when her birthday is. And yet my chest still aches to keep her in my life, like she was made for me and something is pushing us together.
Duke lifts his head, tail wagging as he looks toward the bedrooms, which means this heart-to-heart is now over because someone else is awake. With the way my heart rate kicks up at the thought of seeing Hope again, I know Hank is probably right about all of this. That doesn’t make this any less terrifying, and if last night was any indication, I clearly don’t know how to take things slow and be cautious. I can’t jump into something without both of us being on the same page.
I shouldn’t jump into something to begin with. Not without certain commitments. Call me old-fashioned, but I want to do things right this time around.
“I can’t tell if the sun is up,” Hope says, poking her head around the corner. “Am I allowed out of the dungeon?”
