Page 53 of Run to Me

I step closer, cursing my body for gravitating toward his without my conscious consent. “I don’t know. You never said.”

He winces, but I won’t apologize for the low blow. Then a solemn expression takes over his handsome face, and he speaks a truth with a pointed tip just as sharp as mine. “Because you won’t give me a chance to say it.”

“I gave you a chance.”

“And I blew it, I know. Thirteen years of the silent treatment serves as a pretty good reminder.”

For some reason, I’m not inclined to flex my claws and tear at him like I usually do. I’m too busy fighting this moment of vulnerability, one I swore to never allow myself to feel again. The desire to speak the words I’ve wanted to say to him is stronger than my fear of opening up, so I set them free.

“You hurt me, Jensen.”

His knuckles graze my jaw and trail lightly over my scabbed flesh. I’m standing between his parted legs, and we’re both relaxed in our proximity and this moment of temporary truce.

“And we both suffered because of my mistakes. We’ve paid the price for too long,” he says in a strained yet tender voice. “Come home to me.”

“I’m here.” I gesture toward all of Walford, pretending not to understand his meaning. “I’ll be here until I deal with Vera.”

He swipes his thumbs along my cheeks and imprisons my gaze, our noses almost touching. “Birdie. To me.”

Tired of going in circles with him, I say, “Give me some time. I just got here, and there’s a lot to do.”

His arms drop to his sides, and he nods, resigned. “Okay. You know where to find me.”

We continue staring, our lost, lonely eyes crying out for each other. We haven’t moved, and I grip his shirt tighter as though I might float away if I let go. Fragility sits on my tongue with a confession he’s eager to receive.

“Tell me your thoughts.” The command is gentle, much like his hands now resting on my waist.

He knows me too well, and the eyes holding mine hostage mirror my emotions. Pain. Fear. Need. Helplessness.

“I was scared,” I admit. My lip quivers as I search his soul for safety. “Scared because I had no control over anything except my will to hold on to that stupid bag. And the director of the music video groped me. I’m so pissed that he ruined that project for me. I really wanted to succeed.”

Jensen draws me against his warm body, shielding me from the disgusting world and all its savagery. I bury my nose in his familiar scent and let the tears flow freely.

“I’m so sorry that happened to you.” Steady hands stroke my back, and I melt into him further.

Despite all the time apart, he’s my greatest source of comfort. The one place where I’m free to breathe because Jensen will never stifle my air or my voice.

I can admit I miss him terribly. I miss his friendship, his laughter, his encouragement. The solace he provides taunts me even now, chipping away at my grudge. I’m losing sight of why I hold on to it. Opening up to him used to be the easiest thing in the world. So I release some of my worries, knowing he’ll catch them and handle them with care.

“I’m tired of fighting, Jensen. I’ve never asked for much or caused trouble or hurt anyone. But no matter how hard I try to earn something for myself and to be noticed, I fail.”

“Your career with Tate was good, wasn’t it?”

I sigh into his chest, resting my weary head on his heart. “The best, and I’ll be forever grateful to her for believing in me. But she gifted me that opportunity. I didn’t earn it.”

“You gave her the gift. Your hands create works of art, and she was lucky to have you on her team for so long. Lucky someone didn’t steal you away.”

His deep belief in me drags another confession from my lips. Another fear. “If her career is over, what if mine is too? What if I’ve reached the end of the line, and I never get to leave my mark? I’ll be nothing.”

After what happened on the video shoot and how I reacted, I may never find work again. The reminder of how the entertainment business operates hits me with full force. I may have famous friends, but even their influence is limited if I’m labeled as difficult.

He tips my chin up with a fingertip to meet his gaze. “You never give up. That’s not who you are. As for leaving your mark, you succeeded. It’s engraved so deeply in my heart, you scarred me for life. Never say you’re nothing while standing in front of a man who believes you’re his everything.”

Unable to bear the sincerity in his gaze, I squeeze my eyes shut and whisper my ongoing plea. “Don’t.”

“Stop,” he counters, cradling my head in his hands. “Stop denying us. You say you’re tired of fighting? Stop fighting this, Maisy. Let. Me. In.”

When I lift a hand to wipe my tears, he beats me to it, brushing them away with his thumbs. “I don’t know how to let you in, J. I don’t know where to start.”