Page 104 of Already Callin’ You Mine

24

JACE

A strangled sound escapes from Presley. I’m not sure if it’s a laugh or a sob, but either way, it steals my heart. The one that already belongs to her.

“I don’t know if I should be happy or scared that you think I’m worth being puked on. Again.”

“Happy.”

She smiles, letting her giggle flow freely as she pushes to her toes to kiss me lightly. It’s brief, a faint brush of her lips against mine, but it’s everything.

“Weirdly, that might be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to me.”

“I hope not,” I counter, tightening my grip on her. “I hope I’ve delivered some better lines than that.”

A blush appears on Presley’s cheeks almost instantly, turning her the cutest shade of pink. One that is very similar to the color my mother threatened to paint her downstairs powder room. It looks much better on Presley though.

“Maybe…” She sighs, snuggling into me. Delivering on my promise, I start to slowly rock us back and forth to the pretend tune playing in my head. “But…the meaning of this one…that’s what does it. You choosing us.”

“I meant what I said, Mama.” I press my lips to her forehead again, hoping that it offers reassurance. “I don’t know what the future holds. None of us do. But I got you. I choose you. I choose Otis. Please choose me back.”

My heart stops, my breath right along with it as I wait for her to respond. Actually, the whole world has stopped. Come to a complete and utter halt, no movement whatsoever as the seconds grow longer and longer. The chance that she might reject me again lingers, growing louder in my mind with each new echo. That she might tell me she doesn’t want the same thing.

Because I want forever with this women. With this family.

“I choose you back.”

Thank God…I can breathe again…

“Pretty sure Otis chooses you too.”

Fuck, yes.

“He just likes me because of my access to heavy machinery,” I joke. “But I’ll take what I can get.”

Presley’s laughter fills the room, lighting me up inside. She chooses me back.

Of all the ways I saw my life going, this was not it. These were not the tropes I saw myself taking on. But I can’t imagine it any other way. More importantly, I wouldn’t trade this for anything. Proving that real life is always stranger than fiction.

“He chooses you because you’re you.” Stepping back, Presley looks up at me, our eyes meeting and locking in a way that takes me out at the knees. Her blue-gray irises are glassy, muddled by the tears she’s fighting back. “For a long time I’ve wondered—worried—about having to someday tell Otis that his dad doesn’t want him.”

The pain in her voice is clear as day, would be even if it wasn’t also painted on her face. It’s a pain I can’t erase, caused by someone else. What I can do is try and soothe it. Provide her with a release, a safe space, so she can relax in the knowledge that this is no longer a worry.

“Because how do you tell someone that?” she continues. “How do you tell someone that the person who is supposed to love them unconditionally didn’t want them? That they tried to deny them?”

I flex my hands, digging into her skin slightly, trying to tamp down the fire rising within me. The wrong kind of fire. This isn’t what I want to be feeling when she’s in my arms. Nor is it what I want her to feel while I’m holding her.

At the same time, there’s a part of me that’s thankful that she feels safe enough to say it. To confide in me and show me this side of her.

“I don’t know,” I whisper. “And when the time comes that we have to tell him, we’ll figure it out together. That’s not a tonight problem though.”

“No, it’s not.” She pauses, inhaling deeply. “Can I show you something?”

Her abrupt change in subject makes me chuckle—at least internally—but I keep that to myself. Her mind is clearly moving a mile a minute, and I don’t dare stop it.

“Of course.”

Taking my hand, Presley leads me out of the kitchen, through the living room, and down the hallway. I follow willingly, my own brain kicking into high gear with where she could be taking this. Even more so when she slips into her bedroom, closing the door behind us. Not that I’m complaining.