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“Oh baby.”
“That’s what he left her with. Bills. A sad kid. And that last memory. He met her when she was a stripper. Stripped because she was beautiful, but she was alone because her family life was shit, so that’s how she survived. He put her in a pretty little house that she loved, gave her me, and sent her to beauty school so she could work toward her dream of ownin’ her own salon someday. But knowing what she’d been through, how he and me were all she had, he still fuckin’ left her. She had to go back to stripping, losin’ everything he’d given her because he took himself away. Because his life insurance didn’t cover suicide. Lost the house. Car got repo’d. Scrapped the car in the garage that he died in. The car he built with me!” I slammed my fist against my chest. “She had to go back to stripping to put food on the table because cuttin’ hair wasn’t bringin’ in enough with all the debt.” I raked my hands through my hair.
“I’m so sorry, Jesse.”
“Don’t hurt yourself anymore G. I see those Band-Aids on you, those little scabs from you cuttin’ yourself and it drags that pain back to the surface for me. Don’t do it. For me. Don’t do it for you. Don’t do it to the family we’ll make.”
“The family we’ll make?” she asked, then she swallowed with difficulty. Her eyes were filled with hope. And pain.
“Maybe. If you let me in. If you work on this like I’m workin’ on it. If you would just fucking please let me in.” I put my hand to her cheek. “You gonna let me in Gianna?”
She pulled her lips tight and nodded. And was I getting in there? Finally?
“Isn’t that what you want?” I smoothed her hair behind her ear. “Bake sales. Ballet. Make lunches with notes in ‘em? To take care of your family?”
She nodded faster, lip quivering, eyes leaking, clinging to me while nodding.
“Bake cupcakes that taste like melted plastic…” I went on.
She punched my arm and pouted.
I laughed.
And then I went serious.
“You want that with me someday, don’t take yourself away from me. Don’t wanna give it to you if you’re gonna leave us. Leave your man and our kids because you decide it’s time to fade to black.”
She shook her head fiercely.
“Break our hearts so bad we might never get over it. I know I wouldn’t. You think if we had little kids they’d get over losin’ you?”
“I’ll fix this. I swear I’ll fix this. It’s over. It’s done. I promise, Jesse. Please believe me.”
I blew out a hard exhale, putting my lips to her forehead. “Don’t make promises you might not be able to keep. Just know that if you hurt yourself, you’re hurting me, too. Hurting the kids we’ll maybe make one day. Or makin’ it so we can’t make those babies together because I give up on you.”
She made an ugly sound.
“Gave up knowin’ I can’t put myself through it, Gigi.”
She squeezed me harder. “I do promise, Jesse. Don’t give up. I’ll be able to keep this promise. I know I will. I can feel it deep in my soul. Because I can never get outta the funk, never see past my own pain because I’m so afraid of what’ll come at me next that I live in fear. I’ve been living in fear that you’ll disappear in a puff of smoke, and I’ll realize all this was a really good dream that I woke up from. Afraid one of these days I’ll say or do another something stupid and you won’t even care because you’re just done. Please don’t give up on me. Please. I promise I’ll never put you through this again. Never again.”
“Let me in. Let me know you. I’m crazy about you, you know? I want it all for myself and you keep so much of it buried.”
“Because not all of it’s good.”
“If it’s all mine, give it to me. I only want this if I get all of you. You want all of me?”
She nodded. “I really, really do.”
I blew out a long breath while tumbling onto the bed with her.
“Used to play Wildfire in his truck. He let me be in charge of the truck stereo when I went on runs with him. Couldn’t listen to that song after he died without feelin’ sick. Until I heard you sing it by the fire at Ma and Arch’s.”
She pressed her lips to my jaw. “I don’t sing for people. Don’t give that to them because it’s private. It’s mine. My voice. Usually, my words that I wrote. Daddy used to try and make me sing in bars, on corners for money. I hated it. Hated it so much. I’d cry and he’d make me do it anyway. It’s all I have that means anything. Until now. Until you. You make me feel such a way that I kept catching myself singing. But the way you look at me when I do? You make me wanna sing my heart out, Jesse. I love the way you look at me when I sing.”
