Page 128 of It's Always Been You
“You said it was God’s will.”
He moans. “I don’t know that for certain. Maybe I was just scared and convinced myself it was. I don’t know. All I know is that I keep making mistake after mistake with you, baby. I’m sorry.”
“You can’t blame yourself for this,” I whisper, gesturing to my shivering body. “This was all me.”
“I drove you to it.”
“You didnot,” I insist. “So stop that. You’re not responsible for my well-being, Brandon. Or my happiness.” His head sinks to my knee like he can no longer hold the weight of it. I run my fingers through his silky soft hair, scratching his scalp in that way I know he likes, attempting to soothe him. “I know I’ve been hard on you, but you need to stop blaming yourself for every little thing. It’s not right.”
He nods against me, seeming to take what I’ve said on board.
“Besides,” I tease. “Not everything is about you, Brandon. Get a grip.”
He laughs once. “I know. Pretty arrogant of me to assume so.”
“You’re prone to it.”
I feel his smile against my skin.
“Yes, getting fired was a little triggering,” I admit quietly. “But . . .” I shift around, unsettled by the truth. “This was more about . . . Mom.”
His head lifts. Curious blue eyes settle on mine. “Do you want to talk about it?”
I purse my lips, undecided. Seeing as it’s a Saturday and my therapist probably isn’t available, unloading all my emotional baggage on Dr. Brandon Wright is probably the next best thing. “Sure.”
Nodding, he stands and helps me to my feet. “Let’s get you dressed and warm first.”
***
Brandon cradles me in his arms, toeing the rocker we’re reclined in back and forth. We’ve been talking for so long that the sun has gone down. The movers have already taken the bedside lamp, so the room is dark.
But the conversation is bright.
“I want what you have,” I whisper into his shirt.
“And what’s that?” he questions before dropping a kiss to my temple. He’s been peppering me with kisses nonstop. On my hairline, my forehead, my temple, my nose, my cheeks.
Everywhere but my lips.
“The assurance that God loves me. That He hears my prayers and cares.”
Brandon’s chin settles on the top of my head. “What would that assurance look like to you?”
Good question. I’ve never thought about that. “I don’t know. I guess I’m just tired of having toassumethat God loves me. It’s hard for me to believe He could love someone like me.” The words are a shock to my own system.
Brandon’s quiet for a moment, pondering what I’ve said. “I feel the same way sometimes.”
I glance up, surprised. “You do?”
Nodding, he strokes my hair, then presses my head back down onto his shoulder. “Every time I mess up, I have to stop myself from believing that He’s going to abandon me like I’m some kind of lost cause.”
I hold him tighter. “You’re not a lost cause. Everyone makes mistakes.”
“Not as many as I have.”
Frowning, I sit up and grab his face. “That’s a lie, too.” I have a sudden epiphany. “So if you’re pushing me away because you’re scared of making more mistakes, Brandon—don’t. Because that would be the biggest mistake of all. You’d only be taking the easy way out, and I know how disastrous that can be.” Only once he’s nodded in assent do I settle back down into his arms. “So what do you do when you’re doubting God’s love?”
He sighs despondently. “I cling to His promises.”
