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A laugh bubbles up from my mouth.
Imagine if this man, a man I thought I hated, fixed me.
“What are you thinking about, firefly?”
From where I’m nestled in his chest, I turn my head upward and look at him. “The fact that you got me to play again.”
He huffs. “I did nothing.”
I twist around, bracketing his body with my arms and staring him in the eyes to make him hear my words. “You did, and I appreciate it. You gave me something that night, and I’ll never forget it.”
“I sure did.” He smirks, and I lift my hand and pretend to swat at him.
“Knock it off. I’m being serious.”
Gideon grabs my hand, pressing a kiss to each knuckle. “Anything is possible. You just have to believe in yourself as much as I believe in you.” His words make me feel warm and tingly.
We stare into each other’s eyes for a long pause. “How did we get here?” I ask him, but in truth, I’m asking myself more than anything.
“We were born.” His eyes flick to the ceiling like he’s conjuring up another ridiculous answer. “Grew up.”
I purse my lips. “Is that how we got here? I had no idea.” Rolling my eyes, I settle back into his arms, eyes pointed skyward. “But really, Gideon, after all this time, I don’t know you.”
“What do you want to know?” he asks into my ear, and I shiver at the feeling.
“So much,” I whisper. “I’m just afraid to ask.”
I’m afraid it will ruin everything.
I’m afraid once we leave our bubble, everything will evaporate.
“Let’s start with something easy, then.” He squeezes my side, prompting me to ask my first easy question. Which takes me a second to drum up because, lord, do I have a million filtering through my mind at warp speed at this moment.
“Tell me about your family. How did you grow up?”
“You mean how did I become homeless?”
“Pretty much.”
He groans. “Not pulling any punches, I see.”
“I think it’s a pretty basic question.” I playfully roll my eyes, knowing very well it’s anything but basic.
He chuckles, but it lacks humor. It’s as if he’s mentally agreeing with me that this isn’t a simple question after all.
“It’s funny,” he says, “My father was actually a very religious man. Always preaching to me about right and wrong. He never understood me.” I turn around to find that Gideon’s eyes are intense as he speaks, and I want to reach out to him and hold him in my arms, but I don’t. Instead, I give him the space I know he needs right now.
“What happened to him?”
“He sent me away.” He shrugs.
“What do you mean? He sent you away?”
“Eventually, my father just gave up on me,” he explains. “He said that I was going to hell anyway, so why bother trying to save me? The truth is, he’d given up on me long before I ever had given up on myself.”
His voice is full of pain, and it pricks at my emotions. My eyes well with tears, and I have to fight to keep them at bay. I don’t want him to stop talking.
“Then he kicked me out, and I’ve never been back since.”
