Page 73 of Fighting For You
He was kind of a dream, honestly. And even though I’d come to terms with this on some level more than once in the last few weeks, this new element of being in his perfectly effortless house and his gigantic, beautiful catwho’d stolen my heart the minute I met him, and then his incredibly capable handling of my feelings as I fell apart…
You’re everything.
Yeah, and then that, too.
He kept saying these things that felt so bone deep. Like he really believed them. And good grief, I wanted to, too.
I wanted to take his declaration that it wasn’t me who was easy to leave, but that the men who’d left were faithless twits—okay, so he didn’t put it that way, but I’d added it. I wanted to hold it close and press into it, absorb it like moisture into every pore.
He didn’t know it was my father who’d left, but did he need to? A small voice—likely the one of nine-year-old Jess—said yes. It did matter.
But the adult woman who’d not only endured being left again, but had worked to make something of herself and even more than that,forherself here in Silverton? That woman said Jude was right.
And if he was, then it meant I wasn’t doomed to be left forever and that trusting someone to love me might just be possible.
I’d let in my friends, bit by bit. Jo, Catherine, Elise, Dove, Nikki, and Winnie had wormed their way into my heart. And before them, even Bruce and Wilder, Tristan, Adam, Kenny, Luc and even Stone… they’d been my friends.
But Jude… maybe we’d done too much damage to each other to have any real future. I’d failed him and he’d failed me, so how could we go forward? And yet, here we were, snuggled up on his couch playing poker after the oddest, best date I’d ever had.
Odd because I was certain I’d never sobbed into a man’s shirt over my past on any other date. And best because ofhow he’d handled it… and how I hadn’t felt bad for it. He’d never once made me feel silly for crying or even feeling the things I did. He hadn’t given me a moment alone so he wouldn’t be faced with the mess of my crapstorm of emotions, and he hadn’t backed away when I got mad or hurt or sad.
And when he’d given me a tour of his house after dinner, each room a perfect continuation of the cozy, thoughtful home he’d built, it’d gotten better. Because he’d showed me the room where his grandma had stayed at first, and he’d explained how he’d made sure a hospital bed would fit if needed. He’d lost his words, and let me hug him—let me stay with him in another moment of sharp grief.
I couldn’t help but wonder what might’ve happened if we’d stepped into this sooner. If, instead of pushing against each other and letting our bad feelings pile up and harden into stone, we’d humbled ourselves enough to apologize and then… be there for each other. If we’d moved toward one another instead of away.
But that line of thought hurt a little too much right now, especially when a whole other host of feelings was swirling around in my belly.
Had he always been this alarmingly handsome?
The potent combination of his emotional maturity and deft handling of hard subjects paired with the way he squinted at the cards hidden in his giant hand had my pulse thrumming.
Or maybe it was the way our knees pressed together where we sat despite the fact that he had a truly huge couch. I could’ve scooted down and so could he, but we’d apparently both agreed we wanted the closeness. It made no sense, sitting like this and angling our cards away like stubborn weirdos, and yet, here we were.
He lay down his card and pegged me with his stare.
I tossed a chip into the pile. “Raise.”
His gaze didn’t waver as he tossed a chip. “Call.”
I bit my lip to hide the smile threatening. It wasn’t a happy or a victorious one. It would be far too obviously melty and swoon-filled because the way this man was pinning me down with his dark eyes and an energy that felt a little like the wordminewrapping around us…whew.
I revealed my cards, a wave of triumph sliding through me because I knew I had him beat.
He tossed his down, still not looking away from me.
“I fed you guacamole and this is what you give me?”
I chuckled. “A sound loss? Absolutely.” I fluttered my lashes. “Aren’t you glad you invited me?”
The subtle smile tugging at the corners of his mouth disappeared and earnestness shone through his gaze. “I am. Very glad.”
Kiss me. Just kiss me.
Could he read my mind? Sometimes, it felt like he could. It used to feel like he knew the perfect way to get under my skin, but that was probably due to the reality thatanythinghe did made me mad.One more thing I need to apologize for, and soon.
His brow dipped and his eyes tracked between mine as though inspecting me like he pored over computers during a mission, sifting information and searching for the right clue or piece of intel that would break things wide open.
He’d always been so good at his job… the one area I couldn’t fault him for. He might naturally be fairly taciturn, but the man knew his tech, and he knew how to handle himself in the field.
