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“I know. And when I finally got my head out of my ass, I realized that. I took away your choice because I thought I knew best.” He tipped his head to the side, his brows crunched tight together. “But I didn’t. I made the wrong decision. I should never have walked away.”
“But you did.”
“Yeah, I did. Sweetheart, I’m so sorry for hurting you.”
“I’m not your sweetheart.”
He winced again. “I know. But I want you to be.”
Grace felt her throat tighten. “I can’t. I can’t let you do this to me again. It hurt too much.” She let out a mouthful of air. “I have things to do. You can go now.”
“What things?”
She straightened her shoulders. “Yard work.”
“It’s getting dark.”
“And cool. The best time to do it.”
He reached out for her hand. And her stupid treacherous fingers curled around his. The mere touch of his skin was enough to send a bolt of need through her.
“Grace,” he said softly. “Let me show you how much I care for you.”
“I can’t…” Her eyes filled with tears. “It’s too much.”
He nodded, his gaze soft on hers. “I get it. I do. I understand the pain. Let me help you get over it. Just give me a chance. Two weeks. If you still feel the same after that, tell me.”
“What will you do for two weeks?”
He smiled. “I’ll fight.”
She hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that until her whole body flushed at his words. He wanted to fight for her. Nobody had done that before. They’d used her. Discarded her. Run away at the first sign of problems.
He’d done that, too. And it had hurt the most of all.
But he was here now. Standing in front of her, his eyes shining and true. She wanted to believe him. But she couldn’t.
What she could do was give him two weeks.
“Your two minutes are up,” she told him.
“Okay.” He nodded. “I’ll go.” He slid his hand away from hers and it immediately hurt. “Thank you for listening to me.” He glanced at her temple. “Does it hurt?”
“My head? No.” She attempted a smile.
“Good.” He nodded. “By the way, you look beautiful. You always do, but today you look… amazing.”
She was wearing yoga pants and an old t-shirt. And yet his voice sounded true. “You can fight,” she said, her voice thin.
His eyes lit up. “Thank you.”
“I can’t promise you’ll win.”
“That’s not the point of a fight,” he told her. “You don’t know if you’ll win or lose, but you do it, anyway. Because the thing you’re fighting for is so precious. It’s worth fighting for.”
She nodded and curled her fingers around the door. If she wasn’t careful, she’d drag him inside. And she couldn’t do that and stay true to herself. Not after everything that had happened.
Instead, she gave him the softest of smiles and slowly closed the door.
