Page 94 of Seeds of Christmas
Thathe’snot enough.
My hand is on the doorknob now.
“But I’d rather try and fail than not try at all. I’d rather fight for this and lose than walk away and wonder what if. So I’m here. At your door. Showing up. Even though I’m scared you’ll tell me to leave.”
I open the door.
Carter’s standing there, one hand braced on the doorframe, looking exhausted and hopeful and scared all at once.
His eyes meet mine.
“You’re not a mess,” I say, and my voice comes out rough from crying. “And you’re more than good enough.”
His face does something complicated. “So are you.”
And that’s all it takes.
I’m crying again, and then I’m stepping forward into his arms, and he’s holding me so tight I can barely breathe, and it’s exactly what I need.
I cry into his chest—his t-shirt, not the sweatshirt I’m wearing, which is definitely his, and probably explains the look on his face when he saw me—and he just holds me.
Doesn’t try to fix it. Doesn’t tell me to stop. Just holds me while I fall apart.
“I’m sorry,” I finally manage. “I’m so sorry.”
“Shh. It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay. I pushed you away. I hurt you. I made you think—” I pull back enough to look at him, and his eyes are red-rimmed too. “It’s not you. It was never you. You’re not too much. You’re perfect. You’re exactly right.”
“Then why—” He stops himself. “You don’t have to explain.”
“I wasn’t running from you.”
“Then what are you running from?”
“Myself.” The word cracks coming out. “The version of me that disappears when I love someone.”
His jaw ticks, but he doesn’t interrupt.
“Matthew did that to me. Or I did it to myself being with him. Slowly. Little by little. Small things that seemed like love, but were actually control. Until I didn’t recognize myself anymore. Until I was small and quiet and constantly apologizing for existing.”
Carter’s jaw tightens.
“And with you, it’s so easy,” I continue, the words spilling out faster now. “So easy to just... be. To laugh and make terrible paper stars and do puzzles even though you hate them, and falling asleep on your chest. So easy to imagine a future. So easy to forget to protect myself.”
“Rhi—”
“And that terrifies me.” I’m crying again. “Because the last time something was this easy, I lost two years of my life. The last time someone made me feel special, I ended up convinced that I needed to be less to deserve love.”
“You don’t?—”
“I know.” I wipe my eyes with my sleeve—his sleeve.
He’s very quiet. A lock of hair falls over his face.
Then he takes my face in his hands, thumbs brushing away my tears, and looks at me with an intensity that steals my breath.
“Rhiannon Pierce,” he says, and his voice is rough with emotion.
