Page 90 of Stick With Me
I hope this is the right thing to do.
THIRTY-FOUR
The weights slaminto the rubber floor of Fox’s basement gym, the sound blending with the music thumping from the surround sound speakers. My home gym has the basics, but Fox went all out, buying every piece of equipment you could possibly need, plus a few extras.
“You know you don’t need to throw weights around for the set to count, right?”
I glare at him but don’t respond, grabbing the dumbbells for another set of curls. When I finish, I make a conscious effort not to drop the weights again, setting them down carefully. The heavy metal music cuts off, and Fox pulls up a chair in front of the bench where I’m standing.
“Sit. What’s your deal?” He leans toward me, elbows resting on his knees.
How did Fox become my unofficial relationship guide? I’m worried for myself… and for Hannah.
I let out a deep sigh. “Hannah’s going to meet up with Knolls, and I’m trying not to get in my head about it. But it’s not working. I hate the thought of him getting to her. But what can I do? Abso-fucking-lutely nothing.”
Fox shifts in his seat, studying me. “And what? You think she wants to get back with him, like he hinted at in that interview?”
“No. Of course not. I trust her and what she’s told me. She says he wants to reach some sort of truce now that he’s with the Saints. I don’t believe it, though.” I stand and stack plates on a barbell. “Forget it.”
Fox shrugs, heading toward the bike for a cool-down.
Why the fuck is this bothering me? I trust Hannah. She’s with me now.
She could always leave.
I thought that little voice in the back of my head—the one that messes with my thoughts—was gone. But nope, it’s back, wreaking havoc again. Logically, I know she’s not going to leave me for Knolls, but that fear still lingers.
On my ninth birthday, someone I thought would never leave—my father—did. Someone I try not to think about, if I can help it. I may share his DNA and last name, but Greg has always been my father figure.
Doesn’t stop the thoughts from creeping in when I least need them, though. The days, weeks, months,fuck, years that followed are still burned into my brain. Families are supposed to stay together. The people who love you aren’t supposed to leave.
Love.
Fuck.
I love her.
I’m not sure I can remember a time when I didn’t love her.
I’ve waited six years, and I would've waited a hundred more.
Just to call her mine.
From the moment I saw her, I was intrigued, taken, obsessed. Over time, that interest grew into affection, into care. Somewhere along the way, it turned into love. When I couldn’t have her the way I wanted, I still craved her happiness, even if it wasn’t with me.
And now that she’s mine, I’ll do everything in my power to make sure I’m the one keeping her happy.
I can’t let her go to this meeting without her knowing my feelings.
I shake out my arms, pacing back and forth, trying to gather the courage for what I know I have to do.
“Hey, where are you going?” Fox shouts at my retreating back.
I quicken my steps, sprinting up the stairs. “To tell my girl I love her,” I yell back, not slowing down.
Fox’s laughter echoes behind me as I rush through his house, across the yard, and into mine. The patio door slams against the wall as I yank it open, but it’s hardly a worry when my focus is on finding Hannah. She’s at the counter, waiting for something to pop out of the toaster. She spins toward me, her face pinched. “Is everything okay?”
It only takes four strides to reach her. With her back pressed against the counter, I wrap my arms around her waist, pulling her close.
