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She stares at me as if she’s struggling to believe that I’m sincere. How do I convince her? “How could I be interested in any other woman besides you?”
Should I tell her what happened with Swan? That I had a prime opportunity and passed without a second thought because Emily is the only woman I want?
Hell no. How the fuck would that help?
Tears shine in Emily’s eyes, and she ducks her head. “I handled things badly at the hospital,” she whispers, guilt and shame twisting through her words. “I’m so sorry.”
Some people might think her snap decision was unforgivable, but my opinion’s the only one that matters, and I understand why she reacted the way she did. Probably better than she does. “It was a terrible situation.”
“You’re such a good man, Dixon.” She twists her body so she’s facing me and rests her hand over my heart. The warmth of her skin seeps through my shirt. “You deserve someone better. A woman who reacts like a normal person when there’s a crisis.” She drops her hand, but her gaze stays on my face. “I’m still not there yet. I might never be.”
I reach out, clamping my hand around her arm. “Emily, I’m a grown-ass man. Let me decide what I deserve.” I slide my hand down, curling my fingers around hers. “I might seem like some greasy biker who fritters my life away at a strip club—”
“I don’t think that about you,” she insists in an annoyed huff. “I’ve never said that.”
“I didn’t say you did. Let me finish.” I wait until she nods.
“You think I don’t understand what happened? I know you better than you think,” I say in a gentler tone. “You’re hard on yourself. You’ve had to deal with so much all on your own. Way before you should’ve had that kind of responsibility. And you’re amazing—”
“Yeah,” she says with a sarcastic edge. “So amazing I—”
I press my finger to her lips, silencing her argument. “I wasn’t finished.”
She drops her gaze, which I take as a sign to continue.
“You’re an amazing woman, Emily. A good sister and friend. You’ve had to navigate so much of life by yourself. I understand why you reacted the way you did.”
“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she whispers.
“I know you didn’t. At first, it hurt,” I admit. “I needed a minute or two to work it through my head. When I realized where it came from, I knew I’d never give up on you.” I brush my knuckles against her cheek. “You can try to push me away all you want, but I’m not going anywhere.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Come here.” I let go of her hand and guide her into my lap, keeping one arm around her waist and the other clamped over her legs. At least this time, she doesn’t resist.
She settles her body against mine, resting her head on my shoulder and snaking her arms around my waist, squeezing tight. God, she feels so right in my arms.
“That’s my girl,” I whisper in her ear, repeating it a few times until I’m sure it sinks into her obstinate brain. I run my hand up and down her back. “You’re stubborn. But so am I.”
She lets out a soft, sad huff of laughter.
“We’re going to be fine, Emily. You don’t have to do any of this alone, anymore.”
“We’re not your responsibility,” she says against my chest. Her mouth might still be offering weak protests, but she doesn’t move a muscle. Her body understands where she belongs, even if her brain’s still churning with excuses.
“I’m not here because I have to be,” I say.
“It’s not…”
“What?”
“I’m afraid to need you.”
“There’s nothing to be afraid of.” I kiss the top of her head. “I’m here because I want to be with you. I love you.”
God damn, it feels good to say that. To feel like I’m plucking the words from my soul and handing them to her.
“Don’t keep pushing me away,” I warn.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles in a small voice.
“No more apologies. Just don’t do it again.” I tip her head back, gently squeezing her chin between my fingers. “I won’t go as quietly next time.”
“You weren’t quiet,” she says with a solemn note to her voice. “You sent Trinity to sit with me in the hospital.” She curls her fingers around mine, tugging them away from her face. “You came to Libby’s play tonight.”
“I’m a man of my word.”
“I know you are.” She leans in, pressing an almost reverent kiss to my cheek. “It’s one of many things I love about you.”
Her words—admitting she loves me too, without hesitation— are the flip of a switch that unleashes a savage need to toss her onto the table and reclaim her right now.
“Kiss me,” I rasp, barely hanging on to control. My hand tightens on her hip.
