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My lips parted.
He gave a quiet huff of humorless laughter. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”
“How did… How the hell did you know it was—”
“Because I know you.” He sighed, shaking his head. “And I know every damn time you even think about connecting with someone, you’ve got a whole”—he gestured at his own head—“peanut gallery of naysayers that all happen to sound exactly like that doucheweasel you almost married for some reason.”
“Jesus. Tell me how you really feel.”
“Am I wrong?”
I opened my mouth to argue, mostly because that was what I always did when Darren gave me advice. But this time… Well, this time, I didn’t have any arguments. Because no, he wasn’t wrong.
I deflated against the back of my chair. “Fine. You got me. Whenever I meet someone, it’s the same bullshit from my ex’s ghost or whatever.” I shifted a little, trying to ignore that knot of self-loathing that always swelled in the pit of my stomach when I thought too much about this. “But seriously, what do I have to offer someone like Tanner?”
Darren blinked as if I’d just asked the most painfully stupid question he’d ever heard. “Besides what he apparently sees in you and wants more of?”
“Yeah.” I laughed bitterly. “Let’s see how much more he wants once he gets a look at everything.”
Darren pinched the bridge of his nose and pushed out a breath. “Oh my God.”
“What?” I snapped. “Look at me, man. I can buy when you tell me my ex made me see myself worse than I actually am, but let’s not pretend I’m pro hockey boyfriend material. Or even fuck buddy material.”
My friend wiped a hand over his face, let his palm smack on the desk beside him, and fixed an exhausted stare on me. “You are if that pro hockey player wants you to be his boyfriend. Or fuck buddy. Whatever.” He made a frustrated gesture. “Man, I know it’s tough to ignore the shit your ex put in your head, but he lied. About everything. Why is it that youknowhe’s full of crap and that he was gaslighting you with everything he said …exceptwhen he talked about how you look?”
Oh. Hell. That… that was a good question.
Darren’s voice softened. “There’s nothing wrong with you, Isaiah. I can see that, and I’m astraightdude. Obviously Tanner can see it, too.”
I stared down at my hands as that knot twisted under my ribs. Acid burned in the back of my throat, same as it always did when we were on this subject.
Darren shifted a little on the desk. “Let me ask you this, okay? The way you are right now? Absolutely convinced he’s about to decide you’re not good enough for him?” Darren inclined his head. “Do you feel that way when you’re actually with him? Or just when you’re alone?”
Huh. Well.
That was…
That was something I hadn’t considered.
“When I’m with him,” I admitted quietly, “I believe him.”
“But as soon as you’re alone, you start believing the guy who was just trying to gaslight you into blaming yourself for him cheating on you.”
I nodded.
“Right. So, maybe when it comes to whether you’re good enough for Tanner,” he said gently, “you should listen to Tanner.”
I gnawed the inside of my cheek. It couldn’t be that simple. Could it? Hell, maybe it could.
Of course, applying it was easier said than done. I knew it was. If it was easy on any level to silence Keith’s voice and take people at face value, I’d have started doing that ages ago.
But I could try.
Because for reasons I couldn’t begin to fathom, Tanner Jeffries wanted me. He got all tongue-tied when he looked at me. He blushed when I flirted with him. He smiled in that mesmerized way people did when they genuinely wanted someone. Last night, he’d been turned on and needy and frustrated that he couldn’t kiss me. He’d not only wanted to do this again, he wanted us to have sex without condoms.
None of it had seemed like lip service. Not even for a moment. Everything he did and said had felt genuine, and so had his desire. Forme.
Maybe…
