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She says nothing, but her lower lip sticks out, and I have to stop myself from biting it or simply touching her, because I know what that does to her, to both of us.
So instead, I walk away.
Chapter Twelve
“Morrison,” I call out. I shouldn’t speak. I should let him walk off. I need to push him away and truly let him go, not call him back to me.
He doesn’t speak. He keeps his body with his back to me and looks over his shoulder, watching me intently.
The tears build, and I feel like the dam is about to break.
“I don’t know how to handle all of this,” I whisper.
“You handle it by letting me help you,” he replies as if it’s the easiest thing in the world.
“We aren’t your problem, Morrison.”
His face contorts as if he’s in pain. Turning to face me, he doesn’t come closer, only stands with his hands on his hips, waiting for me to continue.
“I appreciate the safe place to stay, the job placement, and helping with Marisa to get settled. The long term, though, I gotta fix that for myself. I got myself into this situation, and I gotta get Marisa and myself out of it.”
“Little momma, you gotta know your front is hot. ’Cause, baby, a strong woman is sexy as hell. But you also gotta know there is nothing—and I mean nothing—that makes the man I am fall harder than watching the beauty you share with that little girl right in there.” He points to the door behind which Marisa is sleeping soundly. “Hailey, you gotta know, too, that it’s okay to let people in. It’s okay to have help. And, dammit, it’s okay to have something for yourself.”
“I have something for myself. She’s in that room, right there.”
With three strides, he’s standing in front of me, tipping my chin to make me look at him.
“I’ve seen firsthand how it works out for a mom who only lives for her kids. She’s number one. I get that, Hailey. She’ll be my number one, too. Same for Jagger, Hendrix, and Livi; we got both your backs. We know just what it’s like for a mom to sacrifice everything for the sake of her kids and leave herself with nothing else.”
I know he’s talking about his mom. We haven’t gotten this deep before, but I feel it.
My gut twists as he continues, his eyes never leaving mine. “I got one regret in this life: that we didn’t make Momma walk away. We didn’t pay enough attention until it was too late to give her something for herself. She had us boys and the bar, but she deserved better. And you deserve better.”
“Morrison,” I whisper as the tears fall.
“Nah, Hailey, there’s nothing you can say. Just listen. With or without me, you gotta remember to take care of Hailey, too. Marisa needs her momma whole. She needs her momma to have people who have her back. And what I’m telling you is that you’ve got that, no matter what.”
Feeling completely defeated, I look into his unwavering eyes. “I can’t repay your kindness, Morrison.”
He slams his mouth down on mine in an all-consuming kiss, and the more he kisses me, the more I feel like I’m floating. When he softens up, I moan as I melt into him. Then he pulls away.
“You. Don’t. Owe. Me. A damn thing. In the month I’ve known you, I have felt alive for the first time since Momma died. You and little chick give me a reason to get up in the morning and do something other than work the next hustle. I lie down at night wanting nothing more than to give you everything I have inside of me and lay the world at both of your feet. Don’t you get it, Hailey? You give me so much more than any money can buy. This isn’t checks and balances; it’s fucking feeling. For once in my life, I fucking feel, Hailey, and outside of worrying about keeping you two safe, it feels fucking good.”
I open and close my mouth, as I have no words that could explain what I’ve felt since Morrison came into my world.
He brushes his lips to mine. “Let the good come in, Hailey.”
On those final words, he backs away and walks down the hallway without looking back, as I slide down the wall and contemplate everything he’s just said to me.
Time passes and fatigue takes over. I go to the bathroom, wash my face, and brush my teeth—the little things moms forget to do when they fall asleep with their children. As I glance in the mirror, I can’t help hearing Morrison in my head.
“It feels fucking good.”
That it does, I admit to myself.
Have something for myself? Fear grips my heart when I think about what I want for myself.
