Page 104 of It's Always Been You
“I didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize my friendship with him,” I explain, feeling ashamed when I hear my lame reasoning out loud for the first time. “Not for a relationship I wasn’t sure would last.” She lets out a shuddering sigh. “We were in such different phases of life, and I had a demanding career, a newborn son, and loads of emotional and spiritual baggage I was still working through.”
The truth is, I nevermeant to start a sexual relationship with Evie. I knew it was wrong, but I succumbed to the temptation because I had never attempted to practice genuine self-control where my sex life was concerned. Even with the Holy Spirit’s help, I failed miserably for months after my conversion. Every time I touched Evie, I hated myself more. The Holy Spirit convicted me with every new kiss, every tender touch. And the self-loathing ran deep.
Deeper than it ever had before.
I had no idea, before giving my life to Christ, just how broken and insecure I was inside. How, for years, I had used sex in the same way Evie used a blade—to avoid addressing deeper heart issues that needed my attention. Ultimately, there are a whole slew of reasons for why I never wanted to commit to one woman. But I realized it started somewhere simple—and overwhelmingly stupid. My first girlfriend.
Looking back, I wish she’d never touched me, wished I’d heeded my father’s warnings about the consequences of premarital sex. But I was curious, and everyone who was anyone was having sex—allegedly. As a brace-faced, pimple-faced kid eager to climb the social ladder, I thought having sex with a pretty, popular girl was the answer to life’s troubles. But she told half the school that I wasn’t capable ofpleasingher, then revealed that she’d only dated me on a dare. I can still hear everyone’s laughter.
Ridiculous as it may seem, that one moment of public humiliation was a formative experience for me, and I started hiding my glaring insecurities about my perceived inadequacies—both in and out of the bedroom—behind an egotistical veneer.
College was a different story for me. Suddenly, the girls were fawning all over me, and I no longer harbored a reputation as the virginal geek. Nothing held me back, and I developed a new reputation with my college buddies—a reputation as a rake. A skirt chaser. Aseducer.Their misplaced admiration bolstered my false bravado, and I started acting like I was God’s gift to women.
But inside, I was still that embarrassed, insecure teenage boy.
“While you were still asleep,” I continue, nervous as I approach the part I regret the most. “I had prepared this whole spiel about how sex outside of marriage is a sin, and how it couldn’t ever happen again. I planned on apologizing to you and letting you down gently about the fact that we shouldn’t see each other anymore. I was going to take full blame for the situation, too; because Iwasresponsible.”
She sniffles and wipes beneath her eyes.
“When you came down the stairs, my mind went totally blank—especially when you looked so shy and hopeful, clearly wondering where we stood.” I shudder at the memory of that sweet look on her face, knowing how hard she’staken everything. “I had no idea how I was going to break the news to you. But you immediately sensed something was off about the situation, and in two seconds flat, your walls went up. I saw it happen, and I did absolutely nothing to reassure you.”
I pause, swallowing roughly as I recall the worst part.
“Then you accused me of being a womanizer. Of manipulating you into bed, more or less.” I drag in a breath. “So I didn’t argue with you. I let you believe that’s what happened because I knew how attached you were. In the back of my mind, I think I thought that if youreallybelieved I could do that, then it would make it that much easier for you to move on. And so . . .”
“You let me walk away,” she grouses.
“But . . . Evie, I honestly didn’t believe youwould.” I shake her shoulder once, and she hiccups. “I thought you would argue with me, baby. I thought you’d see right through me. But you didn’t. You laughed the situation off, put your shoes on, and left. And that chapter of our story ended.”
She tucks her head beneath my chin, shaking as she cries.
“I didn’t move from that spot where you left me for hours,” I confess, kissing away the tears collecting on her cheek. “I just stood there, staring at nothing, regretting everything, knowing how badly I’d messed up. I never meant for any of this to happen, Spitfire. Please believe me.”
She squeezes my hand. “I do.”
When I’ve finally finished unloading on her, the clock on her nightstand says it’s nine o’clock. There’s still so much more to discuss, but she’s falling asleep in my arms. She’s still unwell, and she’s had a long, emotionally charged day.
“Can I tuck you into bed?” I ask tentatively.
“Will you stay?” she wonders quietly, peeking up at me.
My heart lifts, then sinks. “Stay?”
She rests her cheek on my shoulder. “The night? With me?”
I give her a disbelieving look.
She rolls her eyes. “You can sleep on the couch. I just . . . I don’t want to be all alone in this big, empty house.” She bites her bottom lip. “Not tonight.”
She doesn’t need to say anything more—because I get it. “Yes.” I help her off the floor before pulling her into another hug, unwilling to let her go just yet. “I’ll stay.”
Chapter 34
Evie
Itossandturninbed for hours, thinking about Grandma. Jamie texted me around midnight saying her surgery went well, and now she’s resting. The news only brought me a small amount of peace of mind, knowing these next few months of healing and recovery are going to be an uphill battle for her.
Finally, at two in the morning, I know there’s no hope for sleep. Tossing the sheets off, I rise and sneak down the hall to spy on Brandon. Peeking around the corner into the living room, I soften at the sight before me. Brandon’s right where I left him, curled up beneath a throw blanket on the couch, his sharp features illuminated by the soft glow of the Christmas tree. His chest rises and falls steadily, his twitching, sock-clad toes poking out from the end of his blanket. Then he rubs his feet together.
