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“He deserves that.”
“And you deserved not to be abandoned back then by both your parents and your brother. They’re assholes.”
He pauses chopping. “No calling Nick an asshole.”
“But he was. He knew you’d be all alone and still left anyway because he was selfish. Like my mother. People like them don’t care about who they leave behind and then pick up their lives as if we never happened, and that’s wrong, okay? It’s messed up and hurts on empty days because I keep thinking, was I not good enough? Was I just a stone in her life that she so easily kicked away and moved on with her life? Was I unnecessary?”
“Hey.” He grabs me by the shoulders and the warmth of his big, strong hands seeps under my skin. It’s a safety net, one I can hold on to with all my might and not worry that it’ll break and let me go.
“You’re not fucking unnecessary, Gwyneth. Do you hear me?”
“You’re not unnecessary either, okay? Fuck your parents for only realizing your worth after losing your brother. I want to punch them. Especially your mother. She’s the worst ever. At least my own mother decided to disappear from the get-go; Debra was there but did nothing to earn the title of a mother. I’m going to tell her all of this when I see her next time.”
“You will, huh?”
“Yup, and I will metaphorically punch her, too. I can’t do it physically or she’ll sue me for assault and then will tell a sob story to the media, and they’ll believe her. Yikes.”
“That’s smart.” He glides his thumb under my eye and I realize I have moisture there and he’s wiping it away. “Though she won’t have a chance when I’m your lawyer.”
“Hell yeah, she won’t. You’re the best lawyer I know. Aside from my dad.”
“I am?”
“You’re the best, Nate. You must hear that from everyone every day.”
“Not from you.”
“And that’s important?”
“It is.”
“Like when I love it when you praise me?”
“When you behave, which is a rare occurrence.”
“Oh, please. You like it when I’m a bad girl.”
“Do I, wife?”
“Uh-huh.” I wrap my arms around him because I like it. I like how he looks at me as if he’ll have me instead of food, and I like how he touches me. I like how his veiny hands stroke my face and grab me so tight that I become so small in comparison to him.
But what I like the most is him, and I want to engrave him in every cell of my body, take everything he has to offer, and make him all mine.
A mortal trying to trap a god.
Don’t all of those stories end in tragedies? Everyone says it’s impossible for two different worlds to collide. They need to stay separate, watching from afar.
But I’ve already touched him and he’s touched me. And I don’t only mean physically. There’s an ease to our relationship now, and it feels peaceful, normal while still being exciting and fun.
It’s full. That’s the type of effect Nate has on me—he makes me full and I want that fullness. I fucking need it.
And it’s not because I’m dependent on him. It’s not because I grew up watching him being a god among humans.
Those aren’t the reasons why he fills me up. It’s because he’s Nate. The cold, stern Nate with a broken side. The one who has forts so tall, but he still opens them for me to steal a peek inside.
The protective, possessive Nate who wouldn’t allow anyone or anything to hurt me.
Even if he does it himself sometimes.
