Page 121 of Forecheck
“I think you better,” Mitch said, stepping into the hall and holding the door open for me, then disappearing once I crossed the threshold inside—giving me and Brent our space to figure out what came next.
I padded deeper into the condo, feeling for all the world like I was walking toward my death.
Because that’s what would happen if Brent didn’t forgive me—I would simply cease to exist, and my world as I knew it would beforever destroyed. If we couldn’t fix things, I’m not sure I’d ever want to rebuild it.
Without him, nothing else mattered, and I hated myself for putting us in this position.
“Who was at the door?” Brent asked when I entered the living room, finding him sprawled across his couch, an arm thrown over his face.
“Hey, Beej,” I said softly.
Brent flew to sitting, standing, and scooping me in his arms so fast I barely had time to blink. In another heartbeat, we were back on the couch, me cradled against his body as he pressed his face into my neck and inhaled deeply.
“Brent.”
“Just…give me a minute.”
So I did. I let him hold me, let myself sink into his embrace. It had only been an hour since I ended things, since I kicked him out of my apartment, but I felt like I’d lived lifetimes in that span. And the longer we remained curled up like that, the more my body and my mind settled. He hadn’t immediately kicked me out. He wasn’t cold and closed off, or screaming and raging at me.
He was…here. Holding me. Savoring my presence.
I couldn’t hold back my words any longer.
“I’m so fucking sorry,” I whispered, tears slipping freely down my cheeks. “God, you must hate me.”
“Never,” he croaked. “I love you too much.”
I pulled away only far enough to capture his face in my hands, to make sure he heard and understood my next words.
“I’ve been badly hurt in the past. That isn’t news to you. But apparently, I haven’t handled it all as well as I thought, and shoving it down deep instead of working through that trauma is no longer working for me. I’m not going to make excuses for myself, only ask that you give me the benefit of the doubt andtrust that I plan to work on myself so this doesn’t ever happen again.
“I love you,” I whispered, leaning close and pressing a soft, sweet kiss to his mouth. “More than anything in the world, and that scares me so fucking much. But the thought that I lost you today, that I nearly threw away the best thing that ever happened to me wrecked me. I don’t ever want to put us through this again. I’m sorry for so many things. For not believing you, for not giving you the chance to explain, for jumping to conclusions and flying off the handle. But most of all”—I reached up and swiped my thumbs under his eyes, brushing away the moisture there—“I’m sorry for hurting you.”
Inhaling deeply and letting it go in a slow, steady breath, my shoulders drooped. I’d gotten it off my chest—my apology. Now all I could do was hope he forgave me.
“Are you going to let me speak now?” he asked. I only nodded, so he proceeded. “I was never going to let you walk away, no matter how much you thought you’d driven me from your life and ended our relationship. I was always going to fight for this, Berk. This—you—are the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Letting you go would’ve been like cutting out my heart and expecting to survive without it. It wouldn’t have been possible. I would’ve come for you eventually—I’ll always come for you. My home, my life, my everything, all of my worldly possessions, my blood, my love, my fucking body and soul…all of it belongs to you, Berk. And to know that you maybe don’t feel the same, that you feel taken advantage of in this relationship? That cuts me deeper than you can imagine. Why haven’t you talked to me? Or hell, talked to a therapist? Anyone about the shit you’ve been dealing with in that pretty mind of yours?”
He was right, of course, and a phone call to a therapist was on the agenda the second we wrapped up this phone call. For him, I needed to be a better woman. To deserve him, I neededto start taking better care of myself, so I could give my all to our relationship without shit like this continuing to pop up when things triggered me.
I didn’t want to be triggered anymore. I only wanted to let this man love me, and love him in return.
“I’m a master of self-sabotage,” I told him at last. A shitty excuse, but the truth nonetheless. “I’ve been burnt too many times in friendships and relationships, and it’s made me more than a little skittish. I don’t do well with change, and letting you into my life—falling in love with you—was a change bigger than anything I’d ever planned on. I’d never seen that for myself. That soul deep, irrevocable kind of love. You walked into my life and turned the whole thing upside down. All these months, I’ve been trying to keep myself from falling too hard too fast and pancaking when the ground rushed up to meet me. But…I’ve come to realize something.”
“What’s that?”
“Loving you isn’t falling. It’s flying. Instead of feeling trapped and held down, I feel more free to be me than I ever have.” Tears sprung to my eyes again and fell free before I could react to them. I was so fucking sick of crying, and honestly, I was surprised I had any moisture left in my body to give. Through watery eyes, I stared at Brent, falling deep into his perfect blue eyes. “I’m so fucking sorry,” I said again.
Brent only wrapped his arms tighter around me, the pressure and his warmth a comfort I desperately needed, my solace in the storm of my emotional purging.
“Shh, baby,” he said against my hair. “It’s okay.”
“You don’t have to be nice to me right now. I’m an asshole.”
Brent choked on a laugh. “You’re not an asshole. And I will always be nice to you.”
“I don’t understand why.”
“Because I love you,” he said simply. “That’s not going to change because you went a little out of your mind.”
