Page 105 of Lovesick
“Stop it. Don’t say that,” Crew growls.
“But it’s true.”
“It’s not. And there’s a difference now—you haveme. As long as I’m on this earth, I’m going to carry your burdens for you. Every. Single. One. Until you can breathe easier. Until lifeiseasier. You don’t have to do this alone anymore, and I won’t let you.”
“I can’t ask you to do that,” I sob, losing control over my melting pot of emotions, wishing I could push him away and stop him from making the biggest mistake of his life. But the harder I push, the stronger Crew boomerangs right back.
He wicks away the moisture on my cheek with his thumb, not caring for the patchy foundation or watery mascara that cakes my face. “You’re not asking me. I’m doing it of my own volition. You saved me, Princess, and I want to spend the rest of my life returning the favor.”
“But my health is never going to be consistent. I’m going to have bad days. I’m going to have scares. I don’t want you to feel obligated to be my caretaker.”
“Loving you could never be an obligation, Merit. When will you realize that I enjoy taking care of you? I’m going to be herefor the bad days and the good ones. I’m going to be here for the scares. I’m going to hold your hand through all of it, whether you want me to or not. And I’m going to make sure that you never have to go a single second again without being undeniably cherished.”
There is no more to be said—at least, notwordsto express my affection. So, I seal his lips with a kiss, wiping the slate clean and drinking the elixir from his tongue like it’s communion wine. There are tears and spit accruing in the canyons of our mouths, but I don’t care. His touch is more powerful than the morphine in my veins, more lasting than the sutures in my heart. It’s easy to fall back into the tide pools of his eyes—how they silently promise a paradise bereft of pain and suffering.
The world slows to a crawl. The heaviness of the hospital doesn’t seem so oppressive with Crew next to me.
We break away at the same time, and he leans his forehead against mine. “Promise me you won’t push yourself that hard ever again.”
I didn’t realize the stress had been eating away at me until the half-bitten chunks of my body were finally noticeable. And the bleak reason for it? Unrealistic expectations—expectations that wereset by none other than me. My own crucible.
“I just wanted to be perfect,” I whisper shakily. “The perfect daughter, the perfect student, the perfect girlfriend.”
“Nobody’s perfect, Princess, but you’re the closest fucking thing to it. If you always strive for the unachievable, you’ll just continue to disappoint yourself. And I’d die before I let you think, even for a split second, that you’re not good enough. You should be proud of the effort—not just the outcome.”
Crew celebrates my flaws as much as my strengths. He sees me for who I am rather thanjustmy achievements or capabilities. He sees an imperfect girl who’sperfectfor him. I never knew that kind of love existed beforeCrew Calloway washed up on my empty little shore.
My frown clears up. “Thank you. For reminding me that I’m more than my accomplishments.”
I scoot up a little on the bed, giving him room to curl up next to me and rest his head against my belly. He clings to my midsection like one giant, content baby, and I drag my fingers through the still-gelled strands of his hair.
Moments of silence like these are rare. Neither of us speak for what feels like forever, overwhelmed by the existence of one another. I can’t believe this man is mine. This sweet, compassionate, understanding, patient man. I don’t know what I did to deserve him.
I’m almost about to doze off when my stomach contributes to the nonexistent conversation with a prolonged whine too loud to go unnoticed, and a blush scalds my cheeks. Considering that Crew is directly over the famished beast inside me, it’s unlikely that he didn’t hear nor feel my belly growling.
Crew frowns, concern relighting in the aquatic flora of his eyes. “Jesus, Mer. Was that your stomach?”
Mortified, the truth dismounts off my tongue. “I’ve been too nauseous to eat.”
“Then it’s settled—my first duty as yourofficialboyfriend is to get you edible food that doesn’t taste like cardboard,” he announces, jumping to his feet.
That kind of talk whips my insides into a frenzy, love reclaiming its rightful—and newly expanded—territory over the corners of my heart. He’s so sure about everything, and coming from a long line of worriers, that’s a respite unbeknownst to the Lawsons. If my body wasn’t as brittle as a Lofthouse cookie, I’d do a tour en l’air in the air right now.
“What do you want? Cheetos? A ham sandwich? A yogurt parfait? Maybe I should just get one of everything from the vending machine,” Crew decides without letting me answer. He pitches forward to race out of the room, forgets to give me agoodbye kiss, then scampers over to pucker his lips against my forehead.
“Okay, love you. Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”
As Crew leaves, I’m expecting a period of quiet serenity, but of course, it slipped my mind that my endless list of amendments includes my rough-and-tumble father.
My dad walks into the room not a moment later. I don’t have the energy to fight with him, but I don’t have the energy to play passive daughter either. Before he gets the chance to speak, I beat him to it.
“Dad, I know you’re still upset, but please don’t take it out on Crew. If you’re mad at anyone, it should be me. I was the one who didn’t want to tell you. I was the one who was afraid of how you’d react. I hate fighting with you. I hate this—thistension. It’s killing me, and it’s killing you.”
Tears puddle on my lower lashes, and it feels like someone has taken an ice pick to the center of my chest. My relationship with my dad was strained long before Crew came into the picture. Ever since I was forced to move back home, there’s been an imbalance of power between me and him. It didn’t used to be that way. Fear drove him to cosset me, as fear drove me to resent him.
My father’s expression is lachrymose. “Pumpkin…”
“I know you want to protect me, and trust me, I appreciate everything you’ve sacrificed to give me a safe life…but it’s interfering with my happiness. I feel like I can’t do anything without worrying you or Mom. You’re so certain you’re going to lose me that you’ve prevented me from pursuing a life out of my comfort zone. I want to be uncomfortable at times. I want to find my footing without help. I want to dance and party andlivewithout being ruled by my condition,” I confess, hiccups rucking in my throat as moisture begins to slather my hot-to-the-touch cheeks. “But I don’t want to disappoint you. Ineverwant to upset you or Mom. I’m constantly at war with myself,and I don’t think I can take it any longer. You have to let me go, Dad.Please.Please let me go.”
