More Than Want You
Page 58When she reframes the situation like that, I see she’s right. I absolutely can’t rail about the fact that he doesn’t give a rat’s ass about anyone, then be afraid to care about people myself.
I take a deep breath, hang my head. I’m still wound up and turned inside out. And I’m doing my best to apply familiar logic to emotion, like if A plus B equals C, then A plus C must equal B. I know that isn’t accurate, but when I fill in the blanks with feelings and opinions, it works. If hurt plus resentment equals egotistical bastard, then hurt plus egotistical bastard must equal resentment. Yeah, that makes total sense.
“You have a chance to purge everything he dumped on you and be whole, Maxon. Let it go and be happy.”
The words come out so softly. Every syllable grips my heart and squeezes. But her meaning kicks me in the teeth. Forget everything the old bastard has ever said or done to me? Carry on as if the demeaning way he’s treated me for thirty-three fucking years doesn’t matter? I can’t bend my brain around how to pretend all that away. How would that make me happy?
I gape at Keeley. A cynical comeback streaks through my head, perches on my tongue.
Then I stop. Think.
What good does it do me to expend so much energy and hate on an asshole I rarely see if I neglect to live?
I’ve come to a fork in the road. I can be a motherfucker, like my old man. It would certainly be easy. I’ve learned from the master, after all.
Or I can be my own man.
I can’t believe how much courage it takes to simply open my eyes and look at Keeley. No way I can hide the tumultuous confusion churning my insides like a blender. For once, I don’t even try. I just lift my head and meet her stare.
It’s also like a runaway train I can’t stop, especially when I see the empathy waiting for me in her blue eyes. It nearly fells me.
I grab her shoulders to hold on. She closes the distance between us and wraps her arms around me. God, how fucking badly I need her touch…though it’s unraveling me even more.
My chest heaves. My breath is a sob. Another tear falls. The part of me that’s resistant to change doesn’t want this, yet I know I need it.
“I’m here,” she vows. “I’ll catch you. Just…fall.”
If anyone else were standing in front of me, I would scoff and insist they fuck off. But I believe Keeley. This woman is everything to me. In this moment, I’m pretty sure that, despite everything, she must love me, too. Why else would she put up with my crying-baby routine? Yeah, compassion and whatever. I have to believe she isn’t comforting random people on the street. The fact that I’m special to her fills me with peace and warmth that smooth over so many of the wounds my father gouged out in his wake. I want more of her comfort. I need more of her caring.
As I seize her in my arms, I crush her against my chest. I feel complete when her heart beats in time with mine. But it also turns me inside out. The shield around my soul is splintering apart with every quiet moment we’re locked together. All I can do is hold on tight and let myself feel.
I splay my fingers across her back until there isn’t a single breath between us. I can smell her, feel her, inhale her. I fucking sob into her hair. A part of me is waiting for her to laugh, call me a pussy, and bark at me to man up. But that old tape belongs to my dad. Keeley will never say those things. She simply soothes me with slow strokes of her palms up and down my back, comforts me with kisses up my neck and across my cheek. I feel her tenderness like a blanket wrapping me in safety, care.
Love.
The idea of this woman giving her heart to me is both reassuring and terrifying. I would never mean to, but what if I’m a thoughtless jackass and I break it? She’s giving me something precious. I have to figure out how to not fuck it up. The fact that I have no clue terrifies me all over again.
Her lips press against my temple. She breathes over to my forehead. I have to bend down so she can reach me, but the effort is worth the payoff, especially when she eases back to look into my eyes. “Better?”
Yes and no. It’s confusing. “I don’t know.”
She sends me a smile of soft understanding. “That’s honest.”
“Why are you here for me? Why do you give a shit what happens to me? I’ve been an inconsiderate asshole. I’ve tried to make you do things that go against your grain.”
“Don’t forget that you’ve consistently tried to get me into bed, too. But under all that, I see you. Not the cocky but likable douchebag you project to everyone else. I see the boy who was neglected and hurt, so he never learned to trust his heart. I see the man dying for someone to not only care for him but give him undying devotion. And love. He’s strong…but he’s so afraid to ask for what he needs most.”
I choke out a groan and drop my forehead to hers. “I sound pathetic.”
“I could call you a lot of things. That’s not one of them.” She brushes her hand through my hair. “Maxon?”
I hear the shift in her voice. It beckons me to search her face again. I see not just tenderness there. I see invitation.
“Yeah.”
My heart stops. Is she serious right now? I’ve waited and ached for Keeley for interminable days and endless nights. And she wants me when I’m sniffling, red-eyed, and too raw to have a filter?
It’s official: I will never understand women. But I’m grateful for this one.
“You sure?” I croak out.
Keeley smiles at me, nothing but assurance in her big blues. “You’ve been trying to hustle me into bed for nearly three weeks, and now you’re hesitating?”
“I want you to be sure.”
“I don’t have a single doubt.”
That’s all I need to hear.
Keeley believes in the concept of soul mates. I never have…but I’m wondering if they’re real and if she’s mine.
I bend and lift her against my body, cradling her in my arms. She wraps herself around me, curling her legs about my hips. The glance we share steals my breath.