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I scowl and squirm so my back is to him because I can’t stand his smug face. He merely squeezes me tighter and pecks the arch of my neck.

“I knew it,” he breathes in my ear. “You’re too nice to be mean.”

I don’t respond because that movement sapped me of my remaining energy.

I can’t sleep, despite my exhaustion. I’m cozy lying here, Aaron’s breath on the back of my neck a familiar sensation. I roll his words around in my head, trying to determine my thoughts toward them. He says I should allow myself to feel upset before making the decision to forgive him. But after hearing him talk…

I’m just not.

It must be the doormat thing. So long as he flashes that pretty smile and uses his charming words, I let him walk all over me, like Logan claimed. But…I don’t know. Aaron isn’t the type of person who would step on me. Not anymore.

Maybe it’s okay that I don’t have the kind of personality that would let me cling to this and feel overwhelmingly negative. My adverse emotions are always geared toward myself. I’m too fragile, too stubborn, too difficult to accommodate, too everything. Maybe it’s fine that my anger and sadness aren’t taking shape like they should.

Maybe that’s just the way I am.

I think Aaron knows that. But he’s giving me the chance to feel them anyway, just in case. The fact that he’s encouraging me to be upset, because he knows I tend to jump the gap between numbness and acceptance, shows just how unwilling he is to take advantage of me. In one hour, he’s done more to prove his heart to me than Logan has in weeks.

Because he knows me. He’s taken the time to understand how my mind functions. His love for me is genuine, even if I sometimes have trouble understanding what I’ve done to warrant it. He’s shown me his care through more means than words and promises.

I manage to roll toward him again, my nose inches from his on the pillow. Sunlight still gushes through the curtain edges over my window—it’s midafternoon. His eyes widen when he realizes mine are glassy. “I hate what you did,” I say, scrunching my fingers into his vest. “I hate that you planned to do something horrible to me, and I hate how you hid it from me. I hate that I’m not angry with you. I wish I could be that person. But I’m not.”

Aaron smiles, and it’s warm. It’s him. “I know,” he says.

“I’ve always thought that if I had the energy, I would hold on to things longer,” I murmur. The water seeps into my lashes, collecting at the tips. “But I think I just want to see the best in people. I want to believe they’re genuine. And maybe that’s a good thing. Sometimes.”

Aaron’s eyes are shining brighter.

“I know people will take advantage of that,” I continue. “Even if they don’t mean to. Like my family. But I don’t think it’s my fault. They’re the ones choosing to walk on me when they don’t have to. They could step around me, like you do. But they don’t, because I’ve allowed them to…or they’ve allowed themselves to get used to it.”

Aaron brushes his knuckles against my lashes, collecting the gathered tears onto his fingers. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to.

“You’re giving me the chance to get angry and yell at you because that’s what you think you deserve. And maybe you do. I don’t know,” I admit. “But I don’t need to wait to feel because I know the end result. I can’t hate you, and not just because it’s who I am. It’s because you’re not the only one who fell in love.”

Aaron’s smile widens. There’s a tremor in his lips.

“My memories…they’ve been coming back. The good ones. The bad ones. Learning what you did will be one of the bad ones. But moments like now…the way you’re holding me, even knowing I might break up with you…it’s one of the good ones.”

I blink frantically to keep his image from becoming a teary blur. He rolls his knuckles over my lashes again to dispel the water.

“I trust you,” I say quietly. “Because you’re the only person in my life who chooses not to walk on me, even when I lie down and say it’s fine. I am a doormat. Maybe that’s okay, if I have someone like you to clean off the footprints once in a while. You make me feel like it’s good to be myself. You make me…feel. It’s been weeks, and now that you’re here, it’s all I know how to do. That’s why…”

The tears come faster, equally as hot as my scarlet cheeks and shortened breath. Aaron closes his eyes and leans his forehead against mine, like he’s absorbing this moment.

“I love you, Aaron Beckham,” I whisper. “I love the way you love me. I love that I can’t hide from you. I love how you always know what I need, even when I won’t tell you, and how warm you are, and how sweetly you talk to me. I love your smile, even when it irritates me, and I love when you tease and bully me, even when I pretend I don’t.”

Aaron is trembling fiercely now. His hand spreads along the back of my head, holding me against him.

“I love watching you study wood carvings and fiddle with your gadget toy,” I say, nudging my nose against his sunburned one. “I love how your eyes start sparkling when you see me. How you make me feel important. For your sincerity and thoughtfulness and confidence and intensity. For respecting my boundaries, but also knowing when to overstep them for my health and happiness. I love you for making me feel like a person who exists outside of my illnesses, but also for always having my illnesses in mind. I love you for not letting me shove through my pain.”

I kiss the corner of his mouth. Every breath he takes shivers.

“You said I deserve someone who takes care of me and puts me first. You want to be that person for me. So I hope you’ll let me be that person for you, too. Someone who will be there as you figure things out with your mom, or when you relapse into bad habits, or when you want to talk about something that excites you. Someone who lets you feel like you can be honest, even if I’m having a rough time myself.”

I look between his eyes, waiting for him to open them. He doesn’t.

“You can cry, Aaron,” I tell him.

Aaron’s mouth wobbles into a desperate smile, but it only lasts a second before he’s pulling away and shoving his palms over his face. “How did this happen?” he chokes out. “I’m the one who’s supposed to be comforting you today…Somehow it got turned around. How do you always manage to surprise me, even now? In what world do I deserve you? Fuck, Riley.”