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“Me too, Ben.”
• • •
Paloma’s eyes are wide pools of brown, brow dipped in concern where she stays comfortably seated on my bed, Seven curled up next to her, the Frozen Four game already streaming on my laptop. She’s showered but redressed in my hockey sweater, which sends another wave of possessive thrill through me. Her blond hair is damp but unbrushed.
Smiling, I spot the paddle brush next to her.
“You don’t have to—”
“Nothing I’d rather do, P,” I say, walking over and pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Let me shower real quick first, okay?”
She nods and hums as she scoops a handful of cheese crackers into her mouth, before I grab the bag and replace it with her actual meal.
“Eat. I’ll be right back.”
“Yes, sir,” she says. It’s mocking, but I can’t help the easy effect it has on me, heat reddening my face and the back of my neck. I shake myself out of it and head in to shower and redress quickly so that I can spend my time brushing Paloma Blake’s hair.
“Are you okay?” she asks as I comb gently through the strands. They are drier now, the snarls and tangles a little tougher, but I take my time.
“I’m okay, P.” I say, “Did I freak you out?”
She huffs a breath and rolls her eyes, leaning back into my chest. I put the brush down in favor of holding her closer, my hand massaging the peachy skin of her bare thigh.
“God, no. You just worried me. And I didn’t—” Her throat works with a hard swallow. “I want to be there for you. I was worried I did a bad job.” A puff of laughter, and then, “I’m still working on it.”
I kiss her, just because I can. “You’ve been more constant than you know, love. Thank you for being there tonight, supporting me with my dad. You’re the only one who knew how I felt about everything, who understood me from the first day we met and never asked me to change. Never wanted me to.” I kiss her again, along her soft cheek, turning her just slightly in my arms so I can see the devotion in her warm brown eyes that mimics mine.
She’s perfect. So strong and beautiful and smart. And I will happily spend the rest of my life making sure every single day that she knows she’s loved and worth it all.
I don’t ever want to return to a time when she wasn’t like this, soft in my arms, but I’d go through all the pain again if this was the outcome.
“You know that’s how I feel about you, right?” she says, her brow furrowing slightly as she peeks up at me. “You loved me through everything. Even when I was away or hurting or—anything, I never felt alone because I knew I had you, even if I didn’t allow myself to have you.”
My chest aches, but I nod. She raises her hand over my heart, as if she knows where it’s most painful for me.
“Rhys and his panic attacks, your mother’s difficulty with accepting you, your dad being lonely? None of that is on your shoulders, you know?”
“I know.” I don’t, but I’m trying to remind myself.
“What Ethan did to me isn’t something you could have stopped. Now or before you knew me.” She smiles despite her words. “Though I know that big brain and big heart in your big body have tried to come up with endless reasons you could have—somehow.”
I shake my head at her, but it’s true. The thought spirals have been extraordinarily brutal since finding out what Ethan did to her. What I allowed to—
“If you blame yourself,” she says quieter now, “then I have no choice but to blame myself. Because I didn’t tell you.”
“No, P—”
Her harsh look shuts me up and I nod.
“You can’t skip out on therapy anymore, Bennett.” Paloma reaches up and holds my jaw in her hand, thumb dusting across the stubble of my beard. “Your beautiful big brain and heart are too important. You have to take care of them.”
I cover her hand with my own, rubbing gently over her skin. “All right, P. I will.”
“I love you,” she breathes, and it’s like she’s pressing the words into the muscle of my heart.
“Let me touch your hair,” I whisper, reciting the poem I wrote for her months ago as I tangle my hand into her hair. “Wrap it around my fingers, tightening the farther from my grasp you wander. Let me inside you.”
Paloma lets me push her into the mattress, rolling easily beneath me, the game half-forgotten on the laptop as I push it away from us. I feel more than see Seven get up at the movement, opting for his real bed in the corner of my room here.
