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"Zayne outgrew being called a boy about two decades and ten inches ago, Gran."
"When you're my age, no one is too big to be considered a boy. Stop trying to change the subject. That boy is in love with you."
She's right. Zayne Carmichael is in love with me. Even worse, I think he's in love with Gran and Bets. Every defense I had against him is rapidly dissolving. And I've never been more terrified in my life.
I thought if I kept him at a distance, I'd protect my heart, but after watching him with Gran and Bets tonight, I realized my mistake.
There's no defense against the inevitable. I've been falling since day one. Even when I fought it. Even when I denied it. Even when I pretended it wasn't happening, I was falling. I think I crash-landed sometime today.
I don't even know when, either! But my heart is in his hands, and that's not even the terrifying part. The part that really scares me is the fact that I don't know the first thing about being in love. What if I mess it up? What if I'm just not good at it?
What if I break him?
"I don't want to break him, Gran," I admit in a whisper.
"What makes you think you will?"
I shrug helplessly, not sure I know how to put into words why I've been fighting him so hard.
"Your mama," Gran guesses.
Tears immediately spring to my eyes. "She broke everyone she was supposed to love."
"That's because your mama was an addict, sweet girl. Addiction breaks everything." Gran slips her frail hand into mine, squeezing. For some reason, even though she broke my dad's heart and eventually got them both killed, Gran has never hated my mom. She's never had anything bad to say about her.
My dad caught her in bed with another man when I was just a little girl. It broke him. He kicked her out, but he never got over her. Less than a year later, she came around asking for help like she did from time to time. He couldn't tell her no. He never was able to tell her no.
He took her to pay off her dealer…and her dealer killed both of them. My dad never should have been there, but he just couldn't stop trying to rescue her. He packed all my stuff up that morning before he left, as if he knew he wouldn't be coming home that night.
What my mom's dealer did wasn't my mom's fault. He made his own choice, one that he didn't have to make. But part of me blames her anyway. Because of her choices, I grew up without my parents.
I think I've spent most of my life afraid I'd end up like her…selfishly destroying the people I love. Hiding behind caring for Gran and Bets has made it easy to keep from facing that. So long as I had them to worry about, I had an excuse to keep everyone else at a distance. But Zayne's here now, and I'm tottering on the edge of something terrifying.
What if I mess it up? What if I break him like my mom broke my dad? What if I destroy his life like her addiction destroyed all of ours? They weren't perfect lives by any means, but at least I had parents, Gran had her son, and we had each other.
Now, all I have is Gran and Bets. And I'm all they have, too.
"I don't want to hurt him," I whisper.
"Then put your big girl panties on and stop running, sweet girl. Because even if he never says it, that's what will hurt him. He needs you to trust yourself and trust him. That's how you love him, with your whole heart. Just like you do everything else. If you do that, the rest will fall into place." Gran presses her lips to my cheek. "I'm getting in bed. I might even take my sleeping medication tonight so I sleep as hard as Bets does."
"Gran," I groan. "I already told you that we aren't sleeping together."
She winks at me before hauling herself up from the bed. "Then that's a crying shame, Emmaline Cooper. That man was made for long nights and sturdy headboards."
"You did not just say that."
She shrugs, as unrepentant as ever. "Live a little. God knows, I'm not getting any younger. If you're going to give me great-grandbabies, you'd better do it soon."
"Gran!" I hiss.
"I'm just saying, we've brought you enough of those smutty books to have taught you a thing or two by now. You ought to be able to figure out how it works."
"Oh, my God," I laugh through a groan. "I don't know if you believe half the stuff you say or if you say it just to watch me squirm."
"I'll never tell, dear," she sing-songs as she sails out of the room. "Goodnight!"
"Night, Gran. Love you."
