Page 75 of Ugly Duckling
“Um, I might’ve missed it,” I admitted.
Please don’t ask why I missed it. Please, please, please.
“Where’s your mind at?” he asked.
Of course he’d ask.
He was always very much aware of my state of mind.
Even when we were young kids, he knew when I was having a hard day.
But instead of hiding what I was thinking about, I went ahead and told him.
He might as well be aware of where I was at.
“I was thinking that I wanted to be yours,” I admitted. “I was thinking how awesome it would be to be on the back of your bike. To have you run every marathon I ever wanted to run with me for the rest of my life. I was thinking about how nice and caring and kind you are. I was also thinking about how I was finally attractive enough to be seen on your arm and the world not wonder what the hell was wrong with you for choosing me when you could have anyone.”
He drew in a deep breath. “If you would have been listening earlier, you would’ve heard why I was nervous.”
I stayed silent.
“Are you listening yet?”
I swallowed hard and nodded.
“Are you sure?” he asked. “I need to hear the words, Sutton. I need you to hear what I have to say to you.”
I closed my eyes.
Even though I couldn’t see his eyes, I felt the intensity of his gaze on me, even through the darkness.
“Yes,” I croaked. “I’m listening.”
“Then I want you to hear me bare my soul again,” he said. “I want you to listen to me when I tell you why I’m nervous.”
I swallowed audibly before saying, “I’m listening.”
“I’m nervous because I shouldn’t want this,” he rasped, his nose running along the apple of my cheek. “I should give you the space that you need. I shouldn’t be worming my way into your life because you literally just had the worst thing in the world happen to you. The man that was supposed to be your ride or die proved that he wouldn’t ride or die for you. He hurt you. Badly. Both physically and mentally. And here I am, knowing that you’re not in the right headspace, realizing that I finally have you exactly where I want you, and moving in when I know that you need time to heal. But I don’t want to give you time to heal. I let you go in high school because I had too much on my plate. I should’ve made a move, and didn’t. I thought my baggage was too much, and didn’t want to ruin your life or your future by being saddled to a high school almost dropout with a kid. Now, here I am, in almost the same predicament, with a three-year-old and I’m forcing you to move in with me. I have you taking care of her when I shouldn’t. You literally almost had to lie in court and say that we were getting married so that I could have an easier time fighting for my kid. And I let you. I fuckin’ let you, because I’m tired of doing the right thing when it comes to you.”
I inhaled sharply, but still didn’t speak.
“And then you tell me that, since you’re finally what you consider pretty enough, you think you have a chance.” He growled. “Let me tell you something, Sutton Sway, you’ve always had a chance. You had more of a chance than anyone ever, even when you considered yourself at your worst. Because it’s always been you. Every woman I’ve dated since high school has always been compared to you. When I saw you at that race last month, it was like everything was back to right in my chaotic world.”
My body literally melted underneath his.
“I have so much shit swirling around in my life right now. The Combs trying to take Lottie away. Hell, Lottie showing up and tilting my world on its axis. I still wake up from nightmares where I go to pick up Jett, and he’s not there. What fucking business do I have raising another kid? I’ve already proved that I can’t…”
“Jesus,” I said as I reversed our positions, my body now straddling his. I caught his hands and forced them above his head before I growled, “Enough.”
He went silent, and it was then that I realized that we were both panting.
“Jesus, we’re something, aren’t we?” I asked. “If I could, I’d take the hurt and the pain. And I know you’d do the same for me. But that’s not how life works. We’re thrown into situations that no one can prepare us for, and we’ve both come out on the other side. Maybe, just maybe, we should both let those insecurities go, and just live. We just…live.”
His hands went to my hips. “Are you telling me to stop overthinking everything?”
I laughed. “I would, but I know that would be futile. You and me seem to be the best overthinkers in the world. Maybe we should just…try not to think.”
“And how do you propose we do that?”
