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“But…” Her eyes go glassy. “You love me?”
Too fucking soon for my beautiful woman who wants to fly off because it’s safer than sitting on a branch and waiting to be squashed by the world.
But I can’t lie to her.
This woman has come to own my heart.
“Yeah, butterfly. I love you.”
She goes still, holding Steve as her eyes slide closed, her shoulders draw up.
Then she exhales and her lids peel back.
“I was going to leave this,” she whispers.
“What?”
“I was going to leave this.”
I frown.
“I got all the way to the pond with Steve and was planning how to get the hell out of here, and”—a tear escapes—“I was going to leave this, leave us, leaveyou.”
“Butterfly.”
Another tear slides down her cheek. “I’m not sure I have the tools for this. I’m not sure I won’t fuck up and hurt you. I’m not sure that I even know how to be open enough to be in a relationship, but…I love you,” she whispers. “Truly, I do.”
My heart does that thing.
That solely-reserved-for-Nova thing.
“Woof.” Steve wiggles and I give him a scratch before tugging him out of her arms, setting him on the floor.
My mom squeals when he runs toward her, and I spin around. “You can either shut up, sit there, and wait until I’m ready to talk to you.” I take a breath, release it slowly, calming my tone so she knows that I’m fucking dead serious. “Or you can get the hell out of my life.”
Her lips clamp together and she leans back on the couch, kicking her shoes off and curling her legs beneath her.
Out of the pup’s reach.
Or so she thinks.
I shake my head, turn back to Nova. “I don’t have the playbook to figure this out. I don’t have the answers, and I can’t guarantee that I won’t be an asshole again, that I won’t hurt you. But I do know that you’re the one woman in my life—past and present—who gives me what I need.”
“Lake,” she whispers.
“And I figure we can figure the rest out, butterfly. All the bumps and misadventures, the troublesome family and the urge to hit the road.”
“But I left,” she says then winces. “Things got hard and I left.”
“You went to the pond—toourpond—and were back to figure things out in what, like thirty minutes?”
“I—” She swallows then nods. “Yeah.”
“I think I can deal with you going to our place for a half hour to sort out your head.” My lips twitch, and I move closer, drawing her into my arms. “Can you deal with me being a grumpy asshole when things aren’t going my way?”
A long, slow breath. Her eyes coming back to mine.
Strength. Courage. Warmth.
