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“That might be the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
She swats my shoulder. “You know what I mean. Are you sure you’re good? You’re not trying to be brave, are you? Because if you need to sit down or lay down or you need something else, just tell me. Is this too much? What do you need?”
“I missed you.” The truth. Pulled out of me so effortlessly. “I’m terrified.” Fuck, I need to stop.I have never been so weak or strong in my life. I don’t know what’s happening or what you’re doing to me, and I should make it stop, but I don’t want to.Darby isn’t like an addiction. I don’t just want more and more and more of her. She’s like a part of me now, and when I tear her away—because it is a when, not an if—she’s going to be an injury that’s so much more than skin deep.Run. She has the potential to ruin you for yourself.She could. She could break down the walls and the way I’ve gone inside myself to hide from the pain. She could ruin me because I want her, and I know I shouldn’t. This is all getting so far, and I’m losing myself.No, not far enough. I’ll never be lost enough. Not when it comes to Darby.
Darby takes my hand, my bad hand. She turns it over and kisses the ugly ridges of my skin. I can’t really feel her lips there because I have no feeling in most of it, but she raises my hand to her heart and fuck me if I don’t feel that right in the center of where my chest just split right in half.
There’s a flash of pain and sympathy in her eyes but a sea of softness to cancel it out. “Terrified of what?” She holds my hand in place over her heating heart. I can feel the throb of it through her dress, fluttering in my fingertips. Her free hand comes up and caresses my temple before she smooths back my hair. “What’s going on? Is it work?”
“I should go put my hand on.”
“Is that what’s wrong? You look so sad. I thought maybe you were in pain, or you were just having a bad day or a hard time. My family is here. All of them have been here except my little sister because she’s working two jobs right now before school starts, and that’s…that has to be lonely.”
I’m good at putting on a brave face and a tough front. Usually. But I’m finding it a heck of a lot more difficult lately. I sniff Darby’s fingers since they’re lingering on my cheek. “Your hands do smell like fish. What kind are we having for dinner?”
She knows I’m changing the subject on purpose, but she lets it go. “Northern pike, actually. Same as last time. Although, I could make you something else. A grilled cheese, if you want.”
“Last time, the fish was delicious. What happened after had nothing to do with that.”
“But you’d tell me if it did. Or if you didn’t like it. You wouldn’t just sit there and force it down, would you?”
“Not even I would be able to endure smelly fish if I didn’t actually like it.”
“Oh, it’s smelly now?”
I let out a breath of relief. Things were getting way too serious in my head. It’s nice to hear her joke. Okay, maybe it’s also nice that I distracted her from talking about me for all of the three seconds. “You don’t have to be so tough, you know.” Her hand sweeps over my hair, reminding me that it’s getting long and I should get it cut, but I’ll grow it out to my ankles if she keeps smiling like that. “I mean, I know why you are, but it’s okay. You don’t have to be that way with me. You can let your guard down when it’s just us. Or my family. You don’t need your hand. They would never say anything about it. Did you see my dad’s leg? He’s had three surgeries on it, and it’s still not working. He hates the cane, and he hates that he can’t do half the things he wants to do. He would understand if there’s anyone who could.”
“They’re your parents. They have to hate me just for the fact that I’m here with you.”
“No. That’s not a thing with my parents. I’m twenty-four. Old enough to know my own mind.”
So young. So sweet. So innocent. Not for you. Not for you. Not for you.
For fuck’s sake, shut the fuck up.
Okay, eejit, whatever.God, even my thoughts are going straight back to having an Irish accent now. Everything I usually use to keep the past at bay is crumbling, and I’m slipping up, even in my own head.
“Leon, you’re safe with me.”
But are you safe with me?
“And, my parents are heading to the kitchen right now.” A clatter of pots proves her right. “They’re about to start fighting about frying the fish or baking it in the oven. My mom likes my dad to make healthy choices, but my dad only likes his fish fried. I better go and intercede. After that, we’re going to have a fire, but my parents aren’t staying the night.”
“Because they found out that we did dirty things in their bed?”
“Okay, it’s just the queen-sized bed in the big room. It’s nottheirbed.” Darby shudders, but her eyes are glowing like she likes the idea of being just a little bit naughty. “But no, it’s because they want to give us privacy or something. They surprised us, and they’ve met you now, so they can go home and know that I’m just fine. Everything is fine.”
“Until they find out that you’re fake married.”
“Yeah, I’m going to tell them before they leave.”
“Are you serious? Give me some warning so I can run into the woods. There are probably lots of good hiding spots there where your dad won’t be able to find me with a shotgun to pepper my hind end with buckshot.”
“My dad doesn’t own a gun, and he will absolutely not do anything of the sort.”
“You’re really lucky to have this family that loves you so much. Your parents seem awesome, and your grandparents were great. Hmm, prune juice. I’ll have to try that sometime. With the gin, of course. Your brother, though, he’s like Brussels sprouts.”
“What?”
