Page 71 of Sweet Addiction
No way this conversation ends until it’s over.
And it’s nowhere near over.
Dillan grabs pajamas from the top drawer and spins furiously, like she didn’t expect me to be here.
I open my mouth to speak, but she puts her palm up, stopping me. “Don’t. Please... just don’t, Rome. You don’t understand. I might have thought maybe you could at one point. But I was obviously wrong.”
“Then make me understand. I’m not a mind reader. I can’t know unless you tell me,” I growl, refusing to give this up. Knowing damn well this fight matters because this woman matters. I walked away once without a fight, and for a fighter, that’s not an easy thing to do. “Please, Dillan.”
Her shoulders drop, like the sound of her name breaks her damn heart.
“I’m not like you, Rome.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” I demand, blocking her path to the bathroom. She’s not escaping this.
“You ooze confidence. You have since we were kids. Even when you didn’t, you faked it until you did.” Her voice is less angry now, and it’s like I’m watching her close in on herself in front of me. “I’m not like that. I struggle with all the eyes on me. I hate it. I don’t like the attention. I don’t like anything about it.I don’t particularly like myself half the time. It’s why I stopped working for Lilah. It’s why I struggle with social media. It’s why I panicked tonight.” She wipes a tear from her face. “So yeah, I opened up to you that night, and the next morning...”
I just lost the fight with a single sentence.
Not that this is about winning or losing, but damn.
Those words... How can I be mad at her when I want to kill whoever made her feel that way?
Even if it was me.
“You are incredible,” I whisper, scared she’s about to shut down and completely shut me out. “Why wouldn’t you like yourself?”
“You wouldn’t underst?—”
“Stop. Stop thinking you know what I will or won’t understand.” I want so fucking badly to touch her, but I hold my ground. “What aren’t you saying,principessa? What are you scared to say?”
She stands in heartbreaking silence, neither of us moving. Barely fucking breathing.
I’ve never been this guy. The one who wants to fix something for someone else. But I want to fix this. I want to fix us because after tonight, there’s no doubt left in my body that there will be an us. The way I want to destroy whoever made this woman look at herself as anything less than fucking perfect is like a black hole threatening to consume me.
“I’m saying I’m tired,” Dillan finally answers with a voice that’s sounds like it’s been raked over sharp glass before stopping short on a quiet sob that doesn’t quite happen. “I’m saying I can’t do this anymore tonight.” She hugs her pajamas to her chest and closes her eyes. “I’m saying—I’m telling you I can’t do this anymore tonight. Please.”
Please . . .
How the fuck am I supposed to fight that?
I can’t. I won’t.
Not again.
I’m not going to be the reason this woman cries again.
Not ever again.
“Okay,” I say gently. Not moving because if I move, this all ends. My hands will be on her, and any self-restraint I’m fighting for won’t matter.
“That’s it?” Her chest shakes with a breathy inhale. “You’re not going to fight me?”
“No, baby. Get changed and come to bed. We can fight tomorrow.” Fuck. Why does that sound so goddamned good?
A small smile curves her sweet mouth, and I realize that’s why. I’m giving her what she needs, but her being here—in my bed... in my home... in my arms—that’s what I need.
Sometimes you need to know when to fall back from a fight so you can fight another day.
