Page 48 of The Heartbreaker Next Door

“Don’t.”

Her eyes widened. “Don’t what?”

“Look at me like that.”

Her brow furrowed. “Like what?”

“Like you understand me.”

Her mouth twitched. “Maybe I do.”

“Yeah.” I swallowed. “That’s the fucking problem.”

Silence stretched between us.

“I’m not good at this,” I admitted.

“At what?” she asked, her words breathless.

“Needing people.” The words came out rough.

I looked back down at the ground and told myself this conversation needed to stop. I wasn’t sure what sort of truth serum I’d taken or spell I was under, but for whatever reason, I couldn’t seem to keep one thought in my head, unspoken. Every word was spilled from my mouth without any filter. “I don’t know how to hand someone the parts of my life that matter and trust they won’t drop them. Every time I’ve tried, sooner or later, they left. Or I pushed them away before they got the chance.”

Silence filled the space between us at my admission. The only sound was the wind outside and our labored breaths. I dragged a hand down my face.

“So, yeah. I control things. I make plans. I have backup plans for my backup plans. I fix things nobody asked me to fix, and apparently…” I lifted my hands in mock surrender. “I’m a pain in the ass.”

Her eyes widened as she said sarcastically, “Apparently?”

My lips twitched as I almost smiled.

Almost.

“Yes, because if I’m the one holding everything together, then when it falls apart, at least I know who to blame,” I defended myself.

Her amusement disappeared at the weight of my statement.

“And then you came along,” I rasped.

Fuck.

There it was.

The part I really didn’t want to say.

“You walked into my life with your kid and your independence and your complete inability to accept help without turning it into a hostage negotiation.”

“Hey—” she cut in.

“And somehow,” I spoke over her, “you made me want things.”

She went still. I wasn’t even sure if she was breathing.

“Things I stopped letting myself want a long time ago.”

My heart was pounding hard enough to piss me off.

“Things like what?” she questioned.