Page 88 of Let's Be Forever

A little smile plays on his face as he tugs me closer to him, holding my hand close to his heart. “My biggest mistake was letting you go. I told myself if I ever got to see you again, I’d work my ass off to earn your trust, to win you over. And now that you’re here, I don’t intend to ever let you go. I will spend the rest of my life doing whatever I can to prove to you that I deserve you.”

My chest expands as my heart bolts, desperate to be next to his. “I want you to trust me.”

“I do trust you.” I hear the slight defensiveness in his voice.

“I want you to talk to me about how you feel.” I switch the positions of our hands so now I’m swiping my thumb over his knuckles. I note how his palm gets damp, but I don’t point it out. “I love to hear about your good days, but you can share the bad ones with me too.”

That had always been an issue in our relationship. It felt as though he was embarrassed to talk about his feelings, never sharing the “bad stuff.” Instead, he’d get on the ice or work out until fatigue wore him down.

“We can’t make this work if you don’t talk to me. When I was here at the beginning of the month, you pretended like it was all fine when we knew it wasn’t. I don’t like seeing you like that.”

“Um.” His throat bobs, shame evident on his face. “I just…don’t want you to worry.”

I bottle my frustration, doing my best to understand him. “You could tell me not to worry a million times and I still would. Being in a relationship is about talking, sharing, being there for one another. If I can’t be there for you at your worst, why would you want me there at your best? I don’t want you to hide yourself from me. Show me who you really are.”

He’s silent, pondering my words. Then he looks at me and I see whatever he’s holding on to slowly crumble, and the wall that had always been set between us collapses.

“All my life it’s always been ‘smile, the cameras are looking’ or ‘there is nothing wrong with you. If you work harder, you wouldn’t feel this way.’ So it’s easier to shut up, smile, and do what I need to do to win,” he says, his expression blank. “It’s not easy to talk about this because I never thought I needed to. It feels strange to complain when I’ve had it all for most of my life.” His hands slightly tremble.

I shift closer to him, placing my free hand on his thigh. I rub it, and it slowly eases the crease between his brows. His fraught eyes shift to the table in front of us, skimming it for something.

“Do you need to smoke?”

“No, I’m fine. I don’t…” He sounds ashamed. “I’m trying to stop. I don’t want Rosie or you to have to smell it on me. It’s just been a work in progress.”

“She’s not here,” I offer.

His head jerks, taken aback. “Are you implying that I should smoke? You hate everything about it.”

“I know.” I sigh, smiling a little at him. “I don’t want you to feel like you need to stop for us. Do it because it’s something you know you want to do. If you do it now or not, I’m not going anywhere. I just want you to know I’m here and I’m not going to judge you. Just please never smoke in front or around Rosie. Secondhand smoke is serious.”

“No, I would never. I promise.” His hands shake a little less. “So…no?”

I squeeze his hand reassuringly then slip inside, heading straight to the kitchen where I know he’s hiding the box and lighter. When I come back out, I drop down in the same spot and hand it to him. “I won’t be mad. I don’t want you to feel anxious. I know it’s not easy for you to talk about these things.”

He pats the box on his palm, eyeing it like it’s everything he wants and hates.

“The smell doesn’t bother me too much. I worked at a bar for a while after I had Rosie. That’s actually how I met Clementine.” I chuckle at the memory. “She didn’t do it often, but when we were on our break and it was a stressful night…Anyway, I’ve grown used to it, and I might have tried it once.”

Sylas’s eyes go round, but there’s no judgment when he asks, “Are you serious? Why?”

I shrug. “Because it made me think of you. Made me wonder what was so good about it that made you need it. So I thought, why not?”

“I’m sorry.” He sounds contrite, as if he’d been the one to force me.

“Don’t be. I was curious, but that first time—” I grimace, shaking my head. “I don’t know how you continued.”

Sylas chuckles under his breath. “Stress made it bearable.” He sobers up, clearing his throat. “I don’t want you to think I’m weak, that I can’t control myself?—”

“I’ve never thought that. You’re human and for so long you have been in the spotlight, scrutinized by the media and your parents. Who wouldn’t be stressed over that?”

Relief washes over him, and whatever he’d been repressing visible fades. Just when I think he’s going to smoke, he tosses the box and lighter on the table.

“I thought I lost you forever.” Sylas wraps his arms around me, pulling me to his body.

“You didn’t. You won’t.” I return the hug, cupping the back of his head, softly raking his hair. “But we need to take things slow. Is that okay?”

I trust him, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little nervous.