by Elise Faber
“Well, that’s bullshit.”
Kate was so far down her proverbial mental rabbit hole that it took her a few seconds to realize what Heidi had said.
“What?” she exclaimed.
She’d just poured her heart out to her best friend, exposed her vulnerable underbelly, and confessed all of the twisted and sad things she’d been feeling, and Heidi had just called it all bullshit.
“I’m—”
Heidi’s hand came up, palm out. “I heard you, Katie,” she said. “Believe me. I heard every single fucking word and the absolute bullshit that is lacing them together. Yes, you might have been guilty of falling for people too quickly every once in a while, but who hasn’t fallen harder than the person you’re seeing and gotten hurt—”
“That’s not what I mean—”
“And further that, maybe you’ve dated some freaking douchebags, but again, who hasn’t?” Heidi said, talking over her. “Everyone I know has gone through plenty of assholes before they realized they wanted something more, something different.”
“Except—”
“Except, what? You were stupid and didn’t understand your worth?” Heidi took a sip of wine. “Welcome to the club. We’ve all been a little stupid in love now and then.”
“I don’t think I understand—”
Plink. The cup settled onto the granite. “I do, honey,” Heidi murmured. “I do understand. You’ve done an A-plus job at picking losers, but I’ve also seen you with good men, but ones who just aren’t compatible with you, personality or lifestyle or otherwise. That doesn’t mean that there’s something wrong with you. That makes you normal at this whole dating thing.”
“Heidi.”
“Steve Hollen.”
“What?”
“He was a good guy. Nice. You saw him for three months. You two broke up because he moved to the East Coast. Not an asshole.”
“I—”
“Berkeley Anders. Six dates. Good kisser. Fun to hang out with. But you stopped seeing him because he wanted to go out all the time and you wanted to be home more. Also, not an asshole.”
“He—”
“Was a little hurt when you broke it off, yes, and didn’t want to continue being friends.” Heidi rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t happen in real life, no matter how sweet you are inside. I know you joke about your asshole superpower, but you don’t have one, Kate. What you do have is the ability to give glimpses to that big, wonderful heart of yours, but then to shut anyone out who wants to reach for it.”
“That’s not—”
“Fair? Maybe.” Heidi shrugged. “But it’s also true. A few months ago, Thompson Arnold. He was boring. Three dates. You never went on a fourth. Not an asshole. And if you want me to keep going, I can circle all to college. Keith Black. Senior year. Totally into you. Took you on at least ten dates and bought you roses and wanted to sync up on his post-grad with your internship so he could keep seeing you.” Heidi walked over, held her stare. “Also, not an asshole, but you cut him loose.”
Kate’s pulse thundered, the memories surrounding her, memories she’d suppressed. Heidi and her list were right. She had seen Keith and Thompson and Berkeley and Steve and frankly more, but she’d never really let them in. “I’m the asshole,” she murmured.
“No,” Heidi said on a laugh. “You’re not. You have that big heart, the one that draws everyone in, but you’re really good at giving, at helping, at jumping in if someone has a crisis. You’re great at loving everyone else.” She tapped the spot over Kate’s heart. “Except, yourself. Because as much as you give, you never really open yourself up enough to truly trust or rely on another person.”
“I—”
“Trust on your family, your friends?” Heidi nodded. “Yeah, you do. But even then, you make it hard sometimes, babe. You want to take care of us, but if we try to help you in return, you do the capable thing and push us away.”
“I’m not—” She broke off, eyes stinging.
“The hole in your roof Cora’s brother offered to fix? Walking home when you got a flat instead of calling us? Being sick as a dog and taking care of yourself instead of calling me or your mom or Cora—”
“The baby—”
“I know, Katie,” Heidi said gently. “There’s always a logical reason for not. But . . . you need to think if it’s really logic that’s having you do it all yourself, having you help everyone else, but not accepting that same care in return.”
Fuck. Kate had the sinking sensation her friend was right.
“I know you’re not trying to hurt us,” Heidi murmured, reaching for her hand. “I don’t know why you think you have to do it all yourself when we have your back, will always have it, but I can get needing to hold things close to your chest.” A squeeze. “But consider, I’ve known you for a decade-plus, and I don’t understand why you build the walls, why you keep me out of the inner sanctum of your heart, so how can you expect to be comfortable enough to be in a relationship that deep?” A pause. “Or how do you really know you want that?”
Kate swallowed hard but couldn’t find the words.
It didn’t matter, because Heidi had them anyway.
“You have this mental block, babe. Always have. For some idiotic reason, you think that what’s inside you isn’t valuable or important or grand enough for someone to love every single part—the good, the bad, the in-between.” She brushed back Kate’s hair. “And yet you don’t hesitate to love the people around you, warts and all.”
Kate’s gaze slid away.
Heidi let her get away with that, but that didn’t stop her from having the final word.
“It took me a long time to figure it out,” she said, gently. “You give, Katie girl. You give so much that you don’t have to risk taking.” Heidi cradled her jaw, forced Kate to meet her stare. “You give so much because that means you don’t have to open up those steel plates around your heart and actually let someone in to care for you in return. Because if you did, then you would be vulnerable.”
Then with those words that pierced right through Kate’s armor, she pressed a kiss to her cheek, pulled on her coat, and walked right out of Kate’s house.
In like a hurricane, gale force winds knocking everything that Kate thought she knew into disarray, and then out just as abruptly, the aftermath she left behind heavy and silent and . . . shattered.
Sinking down to the tile, Kate buried her face in her hands.
And then she cried.
For a long, long time.
Fifteen
Jaime
He knew something was wrong.
How he knew, he wasn’t going to second guess.
But from the moment his eyes had slid open, the sun barely cresting the hills in the distance, he’d felt a deep pit of unease in his stomach.
Something was wrong with Kate.
Jaime didn’t bother to hesitate or think through the instinct or take a moment to pause and remember they’d been fake fiancés, and something more, for less than a week—message to first date to family dinner. He simply got dressed and drove over to Kate’s house.
She was sitting on her front porch, hair tumbled around her face, top of her body swallowed by a huge gray hoodie, patterned pajama pants swimming over her legs. But what had his stomach twisting itself into knots was the expression on her face. Bleak and exhausted, despite the mug filled with what he assumed was coffee that she was holding in her hands.
Maybe it would have been more prudent to keep driving, to move past this woman who was beautiful and lovely and fun and not complicate his life.
But it wasn’t even an option that crossed his mind.
He’d decided on this adventure, on this path that would hopefully gain him Kate’s heart, her body, her soul linked to his from two minutes into that conversation at dinner. Hell, if he were being honest with himself, he’d decided on her from the moment that message had hit his inbox.
Such a random, odd request.
And also, one he’d n
ever even considered denying.
It was probably stupid to have been infatuated with a woman he’d only known over social media, probably even more so to have fallen for her two minutes into their first date.
But there it was.
And he was riding it through to the end.
He was going to follow through with what he’d promised. He was going to show patience and perseverance and win the heart of the gorgeous, fun, amazing woman who was sitting so sadly on her front porch.
Decision made.
All in.
No waffling required.
Jaime got out, walked up the drive. Kate’s gaze had fixed on his the moment he’d opened the driver’s side door, and it stayed there as he moved toward her.
But when her lips parted as he approached the bottom step of the porch, he didn’t give her a chance to speak, to find some piece inside her to push him away.
Instead, he snagged the mug from her grip, set it on the wood, and sat, picking her up and plunking her into his lap.
“Jaime,” she whispered.
“Hush now,” he said, stroking the hair off her face, seeing how pale she was, the dark circles under each eye. He brushed his thumb along both. “You didn’t sleep last night, Red?”
She shook her head.
“Because of me?”
Another shake.
“Then why, baby?”
Her eyes filled with tears, the tip of her nose went pink, and he had to struggle to contain the urge to want to pulverize whoever had hurt her when a single tear appeared at the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek. “Because of me, Jaime. I’m so messed up inside.”
The pain in that statement made his eyes sting. “No, you’re not,” he argued. “You’re wonderful and perfect and—”
Fingers on his lips, silencing his words.
“I am messed up,” she said firmly, pressing harder when he sucked in a breath, prepared to disagree with her further. This woman meant more to him after a week than any woman had ever meant, his family aside. And he didn’t want to kiss and touch and hold his mom or his sisters. He also certainly didn’t want to sleep with them—shudder. Her next words took any of the light in his mind and smashed it to bits. “I’m so fucking broken and ruined and—”
She broke off on a sob, and he held her tight, mind spinning.
Her words aside, he’d thought of little else except for Kate for months now. First, imagining how he might get a shot with her, and now thinking of all the ways to keep her now that he finally got that chance.
And he’d be the first to admit that he clearly didn’t know everything about her.
But he knew enough.
The biggest and most important piece of that enough was the fact that she wasn’t messed up or ruined or broken.
Maybe she’d been hurt. Maybe she was scared. But that was normal.
He had his own fair share of old hurts and pain. “If I said I was damaged inside, if I had too much baggage inside to be in a relationship, what would you say?”
She glanced up, those pretty whiskey eyes damp, but her tone was impassioned.
“You are wonderful, Jaime,” she said, straightening and gripping his shoulders. “You’ve been absolutely kind and amazing this week. So understanding. I feel so lucky that you didn’t blow me off and—”
He closed the distance between their lips, pressing a short, firm kiss to her mouth.
When he pulled back, he asked, “Can’t you see that I feel the same?”
She bit down on her bottom lip then sighed. “My best friend told me last night that I have walls up and that I give a lot in relationships, that I make such an effort to take care of my family and friends so I can control my relationships, so I can keep distance between myself and the people I love.” She swallowed hard. “So I don’t have to open myself up, don’t have to take their kindness and risk letting them in. I stayed up all night, wanting to pretend I had no clue what she was talking about. To be mad and angry that she would even suggest something so asinine.” Her eyes, dry now, drifted to his. “Then I realized she was right.”
He held her a little closer, slid his hand up and down her back, tracing lightly, not wanting to interrupt, but also wanting her to know that he was there, that he was listening.
“It’s safer to be the one that’s giving more sometimes because then you don’t have to be open to taking. Ugh! I’m doing the worst job of explaining what seemed so clear when Heidi said it.” She groaned, pushed against his chest, and he released her, leaning back against the pillar as she got up and paced the porch. “It makes sense in my head, I guess. It’s one thing to make yourself a martyr for other people, to give and give until there’s nothing else and then everyone can say, oh, that Kate is so wonderful and generous.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “But what they don’t realize is that the giving has the power. I’ve spent so many of my relationships being the caretaker, planning all the things, making sure the person I was seeing had everything he needed, that I then didn’t have to make room in my life for someone to look beneath the veneer. There was such a flurry of caring, of giving, of being in charge that I didn’t ever have to be vulnerable to them.” She sighed. “And because I was the one in control, it was easy for me to step back, to cut ties, to say they weren’t giving me what I needed.” Her eyes came to his. “Even if I never so much as gave them a chance to take care of me.”
Jaime shoved to his feet, understanding now. She wouldn’t make it easy to care for her, would push away those who tried. But he was good at caring, and he could be damned stubborn when it came down to it.
He touched her cheek. “You expected me to say no to the message,” he said, and she nodded. “And more than that, I started caring for you, instead of the other way around.”
She nodded. “I didn’t even have a chance to build my walls because you were just there and inside and you keep doing all these nice things for me—” A sigh, her chin dropping to her chest. “And I don’t know how to take.” She threw her hands up. “I just don’t know how and I keep thinking I need to make it up, to care for you instead and . . . I’m so fucking scared because it’s been a week and I like it too damned much.”
He crossed to her, pulled her against him.
Maybe this was another moment with a should have.
He should have lied. He should have molded the truth, softened the blow in order to make it so she wasn’t scared.
But Jaime hadn’t lied to Kate, hadn’t minimized or reduced anything between them, and he damn sure wasn’t about to start now.
“Good,” he said, using one hand to cup her cheek, to force her to look at him.
“Good?”
“Yup.” He kissed her again, short and fast and hard. “Because I don’t care if you’re scared, Kate McLeod. I like you and I like taking care of you and I’m not going to stop.” He ran his thumb across her bottom lip. “You’re stuck with me.”
Her breath shuddered out.
“And a good relationship isn’t about keeping distance or measuring all the nice things you do for your partner on a scale. It’s not a tit for tat, I do something, you do something.” He brought his other hand up, cupped her other cheek so that he held her face in his palms and her stare couldn’t dart away. “Sometimes the scale tips one way. Sometimes the other. But it’s okay if it’s not perfectly balanced, or—” He kissed her forehead. “Or if that care is heavier in your direction for a bit. At some point in the future, it’ll bounce the other way.”
“But what if I can’t let it?”
He smiled. “Good thing I’m stubborn and pushy.”
A shaky laugh.
He nuzzled her throat. “You’re stuck with me, Red,” he said again, wanting to make it clear, even while knowing it would take her time to believe him.
“Jaime,” she began.
“No, Red.” Fingers on her cheeks, brushing away the tears that were falling in earnest. “You’re stuck with me until you order me to go—” He paused,
considered that. “You know what? Fuck it. Try to order me to leave. Try to run. Try to push me away, but you’ll still be stuck with me.” A shrug. “Because you’re the most incredible woman I’ve ever met, and now you inched open that door. I’m not stepping back. I’m not backing off. I’m pressing forward.” Another kiss, gentler this time, his next words equally so. “I’m going to make my way through the rest of that armor, baby, and once I get to your heart, I’m going to keep it safe because it will be here.” He took her hand, pressed it to his chest. “Because it’s going to be so tightly bound to mine that I’ll always be there to protect it.”
He kissed her tears from her cheeks, slipped one arm around her waist to hold her tight.
“You know I’ll want to protect your heart, too?” she asked, determination on her face.
Love swelled in him, because that was the Kate he was growing to know. Generous and sweet and so fucking incredible that she was absolutely worth fighting for.
“It’s already yours to protect, Red.”
And then he let his lips drop to hers and kissed her.
He kissed her until the sun rose fully.
He kissed her until her stomach rumbled.
Then he bought her breakfast.
And then . . . well, then he kissed her some more.
Sixteen
Kate
It was Tuesday night.
She was still feeling vulnerable, and Jaime was still being wonderful.
He’d bought her breakfast on Sunday after she’d turned into a sobbing fool then had spent the day in her garden with her, digging holes, stealing kisses, and then insisted on paying for the dinner they’d had delivered.
