“Oh,” I repeat. Based on owning a bookstore, you’d think I’d have more words at my disposal.
“But you’re here.” It sounds as if he still can’t believe it. Same,bro. He sweeps one hand toward the cabin’s interior. “Come in. Please.”
Pretty sure the way he says please is my favorite thing.
The inside is bigger than it looks from the front, and I follow him into a family room with vaulted ceilings, a stone fireplace, and windows looking out over that creek I heard earlier. Every inch of the space feels inviting, and it’s alarmingly easy to picture myself curled into one corner of the overstuffed leather sofa.
Focus, Sloane.
“I rehearsed this,” I blurt when he turns to face me. “On the plane. I had bullet points and everything.”
“Of course you did.” His widening grin both puts me at ease and ramps up the way my heart is doing that Riverdance thing again. “Let’s hear number one.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and try to arm wrestle my brain back online. It doesn’t work, but when I open them again, Jensen’s gaze has gone so tender I forget how to breathe. “I don’t remember any of the good stuff.”
“Wing it,” he whispers.
For me, winging it ranks somewhere between a root canal without the good drugs and bedding down with a rattle snake, but I forge ahead. “I didn’t send you away because I didn’t want you there. Wanting you got too real. I spent the last year with people caring about me in ways I never asked for and didn’t know how to repay. Somewhere along the way, I started to believe that I couldn’t be loved without also being a burden. I don’t want that, Jensen. Not with you.” I draw in a shaky breath. “So I convinced myself that I didn’t need you.”
He looks at me like I’ve just told him the saddest story he’s ever heard. “Is that honestly what you think I saw when I looked at you?”
I nod, embarrassed by my immense lack of self-esteem, but I’m being brave and showing him all of me. Even the shameful bits.
“That’s not it at all.” He takes a step closer. “You thoughtloving you would feel like a burden. I thought if I couldn’t take care of you, there’d be no reason for you to love me back.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat.
His mouth curves at one end. “We’ve been standing on opposite sides of the same fear this whole time.”
A quiet sense of knowing expands in my chest.
“You wrote a song for me,” I say, apropos of nothing. I really suck at this grand gesture stuff.
He nods, almost warily. “I did.”
“It’s a great song.”
Another grin. “I’m glad you like it.”
I bite down on my lower lip, suddenly feeling the opposite of brave. Not scared, exactly. Vulnerable is more like it. But that’s a lesson I learned as part of my bucket list challenge. Feeling my feelings, the hard ones included, is the best way through them.
I take his hand and watch the tension ease out of his shoulders. Knowing my touch can do that bolsters my confidence. I clear my throat. “Here’s my new bullet point one. I love you. Not the country music legend who fixes things before anybody thinks to ask. I love you, Jensen Grant. I love your strong opinions about a good cup of coffee. And how you look at me like I’m not made of glass. I love the thought of being needed by you, and I love how much I need you back.” A laugh breaks loose from my throat. “I love that you were coming to find me. And even more that I beat you to it.”
He leans in and drops a kiss on the tip of my nose. “That’s the most romantic speech anyone has ever given me.”
“Could you make it into a song?”
He takes my face in both hands, careful and certain at the same time. “Every word I write from now until eternity is going to be for you. I love you, Sloane Winslow. I think I loved you in that dive bar before I knew your real name. I love you more now that I know the real you. I love your sunshine, and I’ll love you through the rough nights. Hell, I love the part of you that bolts when you’re scared.”His thumb moves along my cheekbone as I smile. “I’m not afraid of you bolting, Sunshine. I’ll always find you.”
I’m crying now, no sunshine coated over top of it, and the terrifying part is how little I want to hide it from him.
“You told me you love me.” I wipe my sleeve and grin wildly. “You’re stuck with me now.”
“Like glue,” he whispers and presses his lips to mine. I kiss him back with my whole heart, and the world finally clicks into place around us.
“Logistics,” I manage when we come up for air.
He quirks a brow. “I must be losing my touch if you’re thinking about logistics right now.”
