Page 79 of Weston’s Treasure

“I’m scared to lose you.”

Weston’s eyes closed as her painful admission scored his flesh but at the same time made him feel like he was on the top of the world.

“I’m not gonna leave you.”

“But—”

“Never, baby.”

“You can’t—”

“Love you, Silver, down deep to my soul. I fucking love you so hard there’s not one goddamned thing that’s gonna take me from you. Believe in it, baby. Trust me—all you have to do is trust me and I swear I’ll never let you down.”

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “Sorry I’m so crazy.”

Sweet fucking relief. She was back, the stubbornness had ebbed. Thank fuck. With his arms wrapped around her, he soaked in her warmth, her love, and her pain. He’d gladly take it all if it meant he had all of her, he’d endure anything.

“You got nothing to be sorry for and you’re not crazy. But we’re standing in a gas station parking lot. You think you’re ready to get back in the car?”

“No. I need to feel you holding me.”

Thank fuck she trusted him. Believed in what they were building and would continue to create. Layering more and more on top of the strong foundation they’d constructed.

His Silver.

His treasure.

26

Okay, so, I’d had another freakout.

This time in the parking lot of a gas station ten minutes from Weston’s parents’ house. Not only was the timing horrible, it was a doozy.

“When will it stop?” I asked with my face still pressed to his chest.

“Don’t know, just know it will.”

God, I loved him. He totally understood.

“I don’t do it on purpose.”

“I know you don’t, baby.”

Of course he knew, Weston seemed to know everything. Which reminded me, I had a huge plate of my favorite dish to eat.

“I said some pretty shitty stuff, I’m sorry. It was totally uncool and you were right, if I would’ve calmed down, we could’ve talked about it without getting ugly.”

Weston’s hand moved up my back, over my shoulder, then tipped my chin up.

I would never get used to the way he looked at me. Each time it was a gift, each time told me something different. He hid nothing from me. He never withheld his concern, his love, his passion, his need, not anything. His honesty was the one thing that held me together. In some ways, it meant more to me than knowing he loved me and he’d protect me.

“Shouldn’t have called you a bitch, told you I’d apologize for that, and I am sorry. But, I am not sorry I pushed you. I know we’re gonna battle it out, I know there are times it’s gonna get dirty, we might have to roll around in the mud a time or two. And I don’t give a shit as long as when we stand back up, we do it like we are now. With you in my arms and us making progress.” He dipped his head and brushed his lips against mine and I was grateful he did. It took the sting out of what he said next. “Something you said that sliced deep was that I thought of you as a project. I know you were upset, you were hurting, and you were scared, but I need to know right now if that’s how you really feel.”

Tears started to sting my eyes. I’d hurt him—really hurt him. He showed me that, too. Didn’t hide that my careless, bitchy words had cut him.

“I’m sorry, Weston. I didn’t mean that. I was thoughtless and bitchy, and I promise I’ll try to never do it again.”

His hands moved to cup my cheeks, his thumbs brushing the tears away as they fell. Through all of that, his eyes never left mine. He was studying me, reading the veracity of my statement. I didn’t move—I owed him this time.