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That I’m really more than what I was told I was.
I’m really more than a second son.
“Thank fucking God,” Homer mutters.
“You cursed. Again.”
“Seemed like the occasion for it.”
My lips twitch.
“It’s not going to be easy, just so you know,” he says then. “Going after her, I mean.”
“I know.”
Not only did I not protect her last night, I also made sure that I’m on her parents’ permanent shit list. The kind of shit list that I may never get off of.
But I’m going to try.
And I’ll keep trying until I do.
Because like her, I’m not going to give up.
Not on her. Not on myself.
Not on this love.
“Because getting caught buck naked in their daughter’s bedroom is not the way you want to start out with her parents,” Homer adds for good measure.
I scrub a hand down my sore and bruised face. “I’m going to need a tie.”
“You’re going to need a lot more than a tie, but we’ll start with that.”
“Why do I get the feeling you’re enjoying this?”
“Because I am.” Then, “Besides, being good gets boring.”
And then I break down and say it. “I know.”
“You know what?”
“Why you wanted me to work with you for a year.”
He stiffens. “So you can earn the money.”
“No,” I tell him. “So you can earn my trust and get to know me.”
His fingers tighten over the wheel.
“And I don’t blame you.”
“No?”
I shake my head, chuckling humorlessly. “Because I never would’ve given you a chance otherwise.” Then, “I don’t trust easy.”
His posture remains rigid. “I know.”
“And it’s not your fault.”
