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Is he fucking serious?
“I mean,” he goes on gently, “you just said it yourself.” He gestures at my chest with his inked fingers. “If I was happy sober, why would I still need you?”
I—
My head thumps back against the headboard. “Shit.”
I feel more than see his shoulders deflate as I stare unseeingly up at the white ceiling.
He’s right to be worried, isn’t he?
My breakdown last night makes a little more sense now.
“No,” I say quickly. Then louder, more determined, “Nope, no, fuck that.”
I sit up and reach for him. His cheeks are only slightly rougher than they were last night in the shower. His jaw works in the cradle of my palms as I stare into those gorgeous, glistening hazel eyes of his.
“If you think I only want you when you’re…” Lifting my shoulders, I look around aimlessly for the right words, as if they’re buried somewhere in these hotel walls. “At your worst then…. then,fuck,I’m sorry. ’Cause that just means I haven’t been doing a good enough job to prove to you that's not the case.”
“Will, no—” he starts to protest.
“Shush,” I say, pressing my thumb over his lips. He glares at me, bringing a small grin to my face as I say, “It’s okay. It… helps knowing that that’s something that’s been bothering you.”
He shakes his head, tries to say something, but I only add pressure to his lips, until his teeth dig into my skin.
“Even if you didn’t realize it ’til now,” I amend gently, reassuring him. I know this is not something he’s consciously worried about. On good days, it’s easy to see how we work. Easy to see how much we love each other, no matter what.
But on the bad days… Days like yesterday…
Days where we’re miles and miles away from one another, with only the bad memories to keep us company in the dark…
It’s easy to forget.
Easy for our worst fears to slip in behind us unawares.
His throat bobs with a swallow. Lifting a hand, he pries my thumb off his mouth so he can speak. “If that’s the case, then that means I haven’t been doing a good enough job to prove to you that for as much as I need and rely on you, I want you and love you ten times more.”
I roll my lips together at that and shake my head. I don’t want to believe that. Idon’t.I know he loves me. Wants me. He shows it all the time. In every touch, every kiss. This cold ass coffee he got for me, made just like I like it.
He arches a brow, eyes remaining steady on mine. “Or we’re both just really fucking stubborn.”
Barking out a laugh, I tip my head. “Or that.”
His mouth crooks up, dimple sinking in his cheek.
I stroke my thumb over it. “One day.”
“One day?”
Leaning forward, I feather a kiss against his lips. He exhales against my mouth, tasting of mint, coffee, and something sweet that’s all him.
Bowing my head to his, I stare deep into his eyes, giving him no choice but to see me. Hear me as I vow, “One day, I’m going to get it through your thick, stubborn skull that you matter.”
He stills.
“Not just to me, but especially to me.” I swallow tightly. “That you don’t just…” —I wet my lips, searching his bright eyes— “disappear when no one’s looking.”
Something breaks in his gaze at that, telling me I hit the nail on the head.
