“Preston?”
“Kit?”
I expel a breath. “You were in a houseful of people.”
His stony expression gives nothing away. “Okay.”
My heart sinks like a stone as I deliver my next sentence. “But you didn’t ask anyone for help.” I look around my childhood bedroom. “Instead, you came in here…alone.”
He doesn’t say a word, but he doesn’t have to. I read him loud and clear.
He didn’t seek out help—not even from me—because he didn’t want anyone to see him helpless and vulnerable.
He’d rather die.
The thought has my chest tightening to the point of pain because no one should ever feel like they have no one to turn to in this world, and I want so desperately to be that person for him.
Stepping between his open legs, I place my hands on his shoulders. “Look at me.” When he does, I whisper, “I can’t force you to trust me because that’s something only you can determine.” I trace the structured line of his jaw, my fingers trailing the faint stubble. “But I’m here and I’m all yours…for however long you want me.”
Folding his arms around my waist, he slumps forward, causing his forehead to rest against my chest. “I’ll always want you.” There’s so much agony in his voice it takes my breath and then gives it back. “That’s the problem.”
My previous conversation with Juan flashes through my head like a warning sign…
Along with the memory of me hugging my knees to my chest and praying for God to fix me while I was trapped in the basement, thanks to one of my Nanna’s punishments.
I wanted so badly to be normal...
To be loved.
But once I finally found my strength and realized I didn’t need to be fixed because different didn’t mean broken, I vowed to never let anyone make me feel like I had to conform to what they wanted me to be ever again.
However, in this moment I find myself wishing I could turn myself inside out so I can give him what he needs.
Be the solution instead of the problem.
“I’m sorry.”
Calloused fingers bracket my chin, his gentle hold in contrast to the severe look in his eyes. “Don’t ever be sorry for being you.” His chest lifts on a breath and he holds my stare. “There’s nothing wrong with you, angry girl. Not a damn thing.”
As much as his words bring me comfort, they also cause me to hurt. “It’s not fair.”
“What’s not?”
I stomp my foot in frustration. “I’m a giver, dammit.”
He looks at me like I’ve sprouted another head. “I’m gonna need you to walk me through this one.”
My shoulders sag with an expansive sigh. “You know the right things to say and do to make it better and give me what I need so I don’t go off the deep end, but I can’t do the same for you.”
Not being able to do that for him in return breaks my heart.
His expression grows pinched. “What makes you so sure about that?”
“I don’t know.” It’s a difficult question to answer because I can’t exactly pinpoint it. “It just seems that way.”
“Well, you’re wrong.”
I blink, caught off guard. “I am?”
He merely nods, but it’s enough for me.
Grinning, I entwine my arms around his neck. Knowing he considers me his person too is the best feeling in the world. “We’re otters.”
The hands that were skating down the length of my back come to a stop. “Otters?”
Reaching behind me, I grab his hand so I can prove my point. “Otters hold hands so they don’t drift apart and lose each other.” Emotion catches me by the throat and my voice quivers. “I don’t ever want to lose you…so I’ll always hold your hand.”
For a moment I think he’s going to tease me and tell me I’m being corny, but he doesn’t. “I don’t want to lose you either.” A dimple graces his cheek. “But I’m not so sure this whole otter thing will work out given they eat a lot of seafood.”
Shoot. I didn’t even think of that. “We can be vegetarian otters.”
That gets a laugh out of him. “You’re so weird.”
“And you’re so…”
Giving me butterflies.
Untangling myself from him, I sprint across the room like my ass is on fire. “I’m gonna go out there and check on things. Be back in a bit.”
I draw in several deep cleansing breaths once I’m on the other side of the door.
The stove is hot—my mind warns me.
But for once, I don’t want to chase the burn.
Because we’ll both go up in flames.
Chapter 24
Preston
My eyelids feel weighted down by bricks as I glance at the clock on the nightstand. It’s barely after midnight, but the party must be over because the noise downstairs has died down. After Kit went back to the party, I ended up going up to my bedroom and passing the fuck out. Not long enough, though, because I’m up now.
Muttering a curse, I reach for the Benadryl and swallow another pill. Usually, I don’t give a shit about following doctor’s orders, but since I can’t gamble anymore, I might as well sleep.
I’m rolling over in bed when the door opens. I’m about to cut into Kit about not knocking again, but my words fall by the wayside when I see her. Sporting a pair of cow print footie pajamas and holding a bright pink tote bag, she gives me a warm smile. My gaze falls to the pillow stuffed under one arm and the headless teddy stuffed under her other one. Next to her is a drooling bulldog who’s eyeing my bed with keen interest.
“What are you doing?”
With a determined glint in her eye, Kit marches inside. “Lola and I want to keep an eye on you tonight, so we’re crashing here and having a slumber party.”
The fuck they are.
“I’m fine,” I bark, but she’s already pulling the comforter back and climbing into my bed.
Her fruity, addictive scent surrounds me like a fog and it’s all I can do not to lean over and bury my face in her hair.
On second thought, maybe this isn’t such a bad idea after all.
The dog attempts to jump on the bed next, but I snap my fingers and point to the floor. “You sleep down there.”
Kit frowns and he huffs, but I don’t give a shit. Only one animal is allowed in my bed and it’s the cow.
Kit sets up shop beside me, pulling various items out of her tote bag and laying them out on the bed.
I eye her skeptically. “What exactly does this slumber party entail, because the only ones I’ve ever had didn’t include clothes.”
Not that I’m opposed to stripping her down and having my way with her. Although this Benadryl is kicking my ass, so my impressive skills might not be up to par.
It doesn’t matter, though because Kit’s quick to shut that idea down. “There will be none of that, mister. But there are lots of other fun things we can do.”
Kit’s idea of fun and mine are night and day, so that’s doubtful.
“Like what?”
She holds up a bottle of pink polish. “We can paint each other’s nails.”