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My chest hurt. My heart hurt beyond words or definition.
I wanted to kiss her. Hold her. Anything, just to make her feel better.
“You don’t even know me, Cameron,” she said through her tears. “You don’t know my birthday or my favorite movie or why I got in trouble in grade school. It doesn’t make sense … that you’re here and you’re doing exactly what I need.” Her voice caught on the words, eyes welling up again. She pressed a hand tight to her chest. “Do you know how scary this is? Someone taking this tiny, breakable part of you, and it’s just out for anyone to see, and anyone to hurt, and…” She stopped again, breathing choppy and short while she tried to force out the words. “You could hurt me so badly.”
Tears streamed down her face, and she dropped her chin to her chest and sighed raggedly.
“I don’t know how to just have sex and not…” She shook her head when the right words weren’t coming. “I don’t know how to do any of this.”
“I do know you,” I told her, taking one step closer.
Her eyes met mine and held.
“All those things? They’re bullshit details.” I shrugged even though my heart raced, and I was anything but calm. “I know the important things.”
She scoffed. “Like what?”
I tilted my head and studied the absolute disaster in front of me.
She was perfect. Every inch of her.
“You’re smart. You’re brave when it matters, you don’t take any shit, and I cannot tell you how attractive that is to me.” My hands moved slowly, sliding around the side of her neck and into her hair. My thumbs brushed the edge of her jaw. “You bought a leash for your cat even though you’ve never had a pet because you know he’d like to go for walks. You’re thoughtful but you hide it, because you think it’s ingrained in you to do things like bring flowers to my mom and have tea with her, or play chess with my dad. It’s not. No one taught you to do those things. And you’re terrified of my family—which I get, we’re a little overwhelming—because you know that this is a place where you don’t have to be anything in order for us to want you here. You don’t have to earn your spot.”
Her eyes never moved from mine, and I swear, I saw her heart just like she’d laid it out on the floor in front of me.
“That’s ridiculous,” she whispered. “Why would anyone be afraid of that?”
I smiled.
She sighed, her shoulders slumping as she deflated into my chest, her forehead resting right over my heart.
“I’m a mess,” she whispered.
“No, you’re not.” I tilted her face up. “But I think I’ll wait to kiss you until there’s less snot on your face.”
Ivy laughed, digging her fingers into the front of my shirt, fisting the material like I might disappear.
Then she lifted her head. “I don’t know what’s going to happen when I go back home. And I have to go back to Seattle at some point.” She glanced around the bedroom. “I’m still selling this house. It’s not meant for me, and I think you know that.”
My throat was tight when I nodded. “I do.”
She used the edge of her sleeve to wipe her nose, grimacing when she pulled it away.
“So what does that mean for us?” she asked.
I skimmed my hand over her forehead, pushing the hair out of her face, then cupped the back of her head. “We don’t have to label anything, Ivy. We don’t have to make some big declaration right now if that doesn’t feel right.”
“You would, though, wouldn’t you?” she asked.
Fearless.
My girl was fearless for asking.
I gave her a little smile. “Maybe.”
She gave a frustrated huff. “All you emotionally stable men who aren’t afraid to say what you feel. What a crock of shit.”
I laughed deep in my chest, and finally, she cracked a smile.
