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“You. Just you. And you need me, too, whether or not you want to admit it. Because I love you. I see the good in you even if you don’t want to admit it. You would rather send me away than be with me because you think you’re doing me a favor. You’re that convinced you’re no good. But bad people don’t care what they’re doing to somebody. Don’t you get that? If you were really so bad, you wouldn’t care. You wouldn’t even think about it.”
“I’ve done that in the past. Many times.” As she sputters, looking for a way to argue, I remember there’s something she doesn’t know yet. What better time to drive the point home? “That blond woman. The one you were so interested in. Her name is Charlotte. She’s Aspen’s birth mother.”
Her eyes fly open wide.
“I hurt her badly. I’m not proud of it. I was such a fucked-up piece of shit that she couldn’t even tell me she was pregnant. She knew how I would react. Then she disappeared from my life, and I didn’t care enough to find out what had happened. She was supposed to be dead, but it turns out she isn’t. And I can barely face her when I remember my cruelty. That’s what I would do to you. I would only keep hurting you.”
“You don’t know that. If anything, you prove my point.”
“How, for fuck’s sake?” My anger is brewing, bubbling, threatening to boil. This is why she doesn’t need me. How can I make her see?
“Because you’re capable of remorse. When are you going to get it through your head? You’re not evil. You’re not a lost cause. And I know you’re only pushing me away because you think it’s for the best. Not because you don’t actually care about me.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Are you? Tell me you don’t love me.”
“I don’t love you,” I lie.
She accepts this without blinking. “Now tell me the truth.”
She’s tearing me apart. She couldn’t do a better job of it if she used a fucking chainsaw and cut me into pieces. “Don’t do this.”
“Don’t do what? Ask for the truth? Because that’s all I want. Look me in the eyes and tell me you don’t love me—if that is true. Because I don’t think it is.”
“You just don’t want it to be.”
“Or maybe you don’t want it to be. But if you were the selfish, heartless son of a bitch you keep trying to make yourself out to be, you wouldn’t be so dead set on protecting me from you. That’s the truth. I know it. I feel it in my heart. What are you so afraid of?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Then say it. Say what’s true.”
Fuck this. I throw my hands into the air, dropping the towel I’ve been holding all this time. “Fine. You want to hear it? As if it changes anything? I love you.”
She lets out a long sigh, and a look of peace comes over her. “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“It doesn’t change anything,” I insist even as she scoffs. “I can’t give you everything you deserve, and don’t give me any shit about only you knowing what you deserve. You need a good man at your side. I am not that man, no matter what you think of me. I’ve done things you have no idea about. You don’t need that kind of darkness. Nobody does.”
“But you said it yourself. I see the light in you. And maybe that’s why I’m here, to remind you it exists, so you don’t get lost in it. And if that’s all I’m ever good for—reminding you that you’re a decent person? That’s all I need. Because as much as you say I deserve good things, so do you.”
“That doesn’t mean we belong together. Love alone isn’t enough.”
“Why not? Why can’t you at least give us a chance? That’s all I’m asking for. Instead of being so sure this can only be a bad thing, why not actually find out? Because that’s all I want. A chance to make it work.”
There’s no use in asking if she means it. I know she does. For some reason, she’s got it into her head that I’m worth saving. And dammit, she makes me want to prove her right. Besides, I’m tired of fighting what I need most.
“Okay. Let’s give us a chance.” I hold out my arms, and she walks into them, tears coursing down her cheeks. She wraps her arms around me and squeezes tight, putting all of herself into it the way she does with everything. Leaving no room for doubt.
I hope she doesn’t regret it in the end.
