Page 127 of Worth the Fall

“You don’t need to. I’ve done enough damage. I pushed you when I didn’t realize I was. I guess I just want you to understand that I’m here for you. That I care about you. That whatever it is you need from me, I’ll try to give you, so long as you tell me. I can’t read your mind.”

I draw in a long, deep breath as if I’m trying to digest and believe what he is saying to me. As if I’m willing myself to whole-heartedly trust him.

“Trust is hard for me,” I whisper, feeling as if I just peeled back my soul and opened it to him. In reality, my revelation is nothing new but it’s still huge for me to admit.

“Understandably.”

Another deep breath. Another confession that needs to be expressed but that is totally unfounded. “I blamed you for the longest time you know.”

“Blamed me for what?” he asks, trying to pinpoint what of the many things I could pin on him.

“My lack of trust.” His fingers still for just a beat before they move to my chin and tilt my face so I’m forced to look at him. His eyes question me, but his lips refrain from verbalizing. “It was so much easier to blame you for everything than to blame the man who was supposed to love me.”

He nods ever so slightly; the compassion in his eyes is truly overwhelming. “I can’t tell you I understand, Em, because I haven’t walked a day in your shoes, but I can tell you that I respect what you are saying. That I hear you. That I’ll prove to you that you can trust me.”

I feel so stupid, needing to hear him say those words, but now that he has, I feel as if a weight has been lifted off my chest. “Where do we go from here?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean . . .” I pause and try to figure out how to put what I want to say into words. “Never mind.”

He pulls me in tighter against his chest. “Where do we go, Emerson? First of all, you’re not going anywhere. I love that you’re a wanderer and free spirited—I wouldn’t change that for the world. I’d never take that away from you. Though, I’d appreciate it if you keep the taking off without telling anyone where you are to a minimum. It makes the cop in me want to track you down to make sure you’re okay.”

“You wouldn’t . . .”

“Don’t tempt me,” he teases but with a hint of an edge that tells me he’d do just that if need be.

“I won’t. Remember, we’re working on trust here,” I say dryly.

“I’m aware.” He plants a noisy kiss on my forehead. “Since you’re staying put, then we keep doing what we’re doing. You get your loan despite how much I’d like to punch that slimy fucker you’re getting it through. I get my promotion despite the asshole trying to take it from me . . . and we . . . move forward. Together.”

“This is all a huge change for me.” I try to wrap my head around how two months ago, I was thinking about the next flavor of the month, and now, I’m sitting here discussing tomorrows with Grant.

“What is? The having someone care about you part or the feeling settled in one place?”

“Both. None. All of it.” I laugh as I hook my leg over his. I meet his eyes and find myself admitting things to him I haven’t yet digested myself. “I’ve survived this far by closing myself off and not allowing myself to feel . . . and then you enter my life with your lights and sirens blazing, and it’s as if you’ve handcuffed me so that I can’t escape from you. So that I’m forced to feel. So that I think in wants and needs. So that I wonder how I ever lived without it. I love it. I hate it. It’s overwhelming, and it’s just . . .”

“Well, get used to it because I’m not going anywhere and neither are you, even if I have to handcuff you and your nomadic ways.” There’s humor in his voice, but there is also an earnestness that tugs on my heart. It makes me just that much more thankful that he showed up today.

“Better make sure you bring them next time,” I tease as my body reacts to the memory of earlier in the hangar.

“I’ll make sure to put my extra set in the nightstand.”

“Promise?”

He leans forward and presses the most tender of kisses against my lips. “Promise.”

Our eyes hold for a moment. “You’ve pretty much obliterated my rules, you know that, right?”

He makes a non-committal sound. “I was wondering how long it was going to take for you to realize that.”

I shrug. “I have a selective memory.”

“Is that what it’s called these days?” The way he says it makes my body become all too aware of how thin the towels wrapped around us are and how easily we might be able to slip out of them. He kisses me again as my fingers reach for the towel at his waist. “There is one thing I forgot to do earlier—you know, proper police protocol.”

“Falling down on the job again?”

He chuckles against my lips. “Only if I’m falling on top of you.”

“Cute,” I say and then sigh as his fingers find their way between my thighs. “We were talking about following proper police protocol.” It’s hard to get the words out.

“Then I guess it’s time to get this strip search under way,” he says before his lips meet mine.

And just like that, we slip into something beyond my rules.

It should terrify me after the past week I’ve had, which was filled with doubts and questions, but there’s something so comforting about the moment.

About being with someone who sees my scars and still thinks I’m beautiful.