Fighting the Fall (Fighting, #4)

Her face is so serious I can’t help the low grumble of laughter that bubbles up from my chest.

“Need information? You interrogating me?”

Her eyes roll to the ceiling. “Stay with me on this one, would you?”

I nod.

“After you confronted my dad at the hospital, offered to pay off his debt, which must’ve been substantial”—she blows out a long breath, her eyes wide—“you came to my room, but then you disappeared. Why?”

“Seeing you hurt, all the shit you were going through, made me realize that if I’d never left you at that restaurant to go after ’Li that night you’d be safe and warm in my bed rather than running from a lunatic to your girl’s house and then riding in that damn car when you got hit.”

“You . . . You thought all that was your fault?”

“Just because I wasn’t the one driving the car that hit you doesn’t mean I didn’t cause it.” Like Rosie, I didn’t throw her in the pool that day, but she ended up there because of me. “Sounds stupid, but I left because I thought you’d be safer without me. No shit, you have no idea the pain I’ve caused others without even trying.”

She blinks. “Wha—What does that mean? Pain you’ve caused others?”

If I want a shot at being with Eve, I’ve got to let her in, but fuck if I can bring the words to my lips.

“Not big on talking about my past, Eve.” Elbows on my knees, I drop my head into my hands and rake them through my hair.

“We can’t build something based on secrets.”

I cough on the irony of her words. “Like you don’t have secrets.” Fuck, but right as the words leave my lips, I instantly regret them. I feel what I’m doing, know I’m pushing her away to avoid having to tell her the truth, but even as I know it, don’t want it, I’m doing it.

“You said you love me.” Her eyes narrow. “You said you’d never let me go again. Now you’re shutting me out. No more walking away.”

My head pounds, and as much as I want what she’s offering, I know I’ll lose her if I tell her the truth about Rosie. But I could lose her if I don’t tell her. Shit.

“Cameron, there’s nothing you could tell me that would change the way I feel about you.”

“You say that now, but you have no idea what you’re asking for.”

She swallows hard and blows out a long breath. “The last guy I dated kept secrets. He was not a good man.”

“I know about Vince, doll. Bein’ honest, not real excited to hear about this pecker sucker who fucked over you and Slade’s girl, but I’m even more not excited to hear it from your sweet mouth.”

My jaw falls loose on its hinges.

“I see this is a surprise to you.”

“Who? When?”

“Daniels and a while ago.”

She shakes her head slowly, and her eyes roam the room before coming back to mine. “Don’t you think I’m disgusting?”

“Never think that about you.”

“But I was in love with him.”

He shrugs. “You thought you were, but, Eve, I know you. After the hell your pops put you through, no way you wouldn’t jump all over a guy who showed you a little attention.”

I cringe. “That’s not nice.” The words are barely a whisper.

“Not nice, but true.”

“Is that what I did with you?”

He shrugs. “Maybe, but the difference is I don’t throw away what you give me.” He thumps his chest with a fist. “Feel that shit in here.”

My breath catches in my throat. “But you threw me away.”

“Thought I was protecting you. Walkin’ away didn’t mean I left you. Brought with me everything you gave.”

“Why is this thing between us so hard? It feels like, if it were real, it should be easier.”

“Never asked for easy. Best things in life are worth working for. You’re worth it.” He tilts his head. “Question is . . . am I worth working for?”

Before the question is out of my mouth, she bobs her head up and down.

“Not gonna lie. Until I get some shit settled, work through some crap I’ve been putting off for way too long, there’s going to be a lot between us that’ll piss you off.”

“Cameron, I—”

“You’re going to want to run, walk away. The shit will beat you down and make you . . .”

“What?”

“Hate me.”

She shakes her head. “No. Never.”

My eyes scan the room, but see nothing. “Rosie, my daughter.”

“You have a daughter,” she whispers.

“Eve—”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because once you know the story, you’ll never speak to me again.”

Her hand flies to her mouth. “Did she . . .?” There’s an audible swallow.

“I . . .” I run a hand though my hair, and push up from the couch with so much force that the air shifts between us. “Fuck!” I pace the room.

“Just tell me, because my imagination is probably making it worse.” She trails behind me.

I hold up a hand. “Please, stay back.”

She ignores me and steps closer. “No. Whatever this is, let me carry the burden with you. Share it with me.”

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