“You know the way I am. You’ve seen me at my worst. Last night, you said you want me anyway.” He waited for my nod. “That’s where I fucked up. I didn’t trust you to make that decision for yourself and I should have. Because I didn’t, I’ve been too cautious. Your past scares me, Eva.”
The thought of Nathan indirectly taking Gideon away from me was so painful, my knees drew even closer into my chest. “Don’t give him that power.”
“I won’t. And you have to realize there’s more than one answer for everything. Who says you need me too much? Who says it’s not healthy? Not you. You’re unhappy because you’re holding yourself back.”
“Men don’t—”
“Fuck that. Neither of us is typical. And that’s okay. Turn off that voice in your head that’s screwing you up. Trust me to know what you need, even when you think I’m wrong. And I’ll trust your decision to be with me despite my faults. Got it?”
I bit my lower lip to hide its trembling and nodded.
“You don’t look convinced,” he said softly.
“I’m afraid I’ll lose myself in you, Gideon. I’m scared I’ll lose the part of me I worked so hard to get back.”
“I’d never let that happen,” he promised fiercely. “What I want is for us both to feel safe. What you and I have together shouldn’t be draining us like this. It should be the one rock-solid thing we both count on.”
My eyes stung with tears at the thought. “I want that,” I whispered. “So much.”
“I’m going to give it to you, angel.” Gideon bent his dark head and brushed his lips over mine. “I’m going to give it to both of us. And you’re going to let me.”
*
“Things seem to be looking better this week,” Dr. Petersen said when Gideon and I arrived for our Thursday night therapy appointment.
We sat near each other this time, with our hands clasped together. Gideon’s thumb caressed my knuckles, and I looked at him and smiled, feeling settled by the contact.
Dr. Petersen flipped open the protective case of his tablet and settled more comfortably in his seat. “Is there anything in particular you’d like to discuss?”
“Tuesday was tough,” I said quietly.
“I imagine so. Let’s talk about Monday night. Can you tell me what happened, Eva?”
I told him about waking up from my own nightmare to find myself trapped in Gideon’s. I walked him through that night and the following day.
“So you’re sleeping separately now?” Dr. Petersen asked.
“Yes.”
“Your nightmares”—he looked up at me—“how often do you have them?”
“Rarely. Prior to dating Gideon, it’d been almost two years since my last one.” I watched him set the stylus down and start typing quickly. Something about his somberness made me anxious. “I love him,” I blurted.
Gideon stiffened beside me.
Dr. Petersen’s head came up, and he studied me. He glanced at Gideon, then back to me. “I don’t doubt it. What made you say that, Eva?”
I shrugged awkwardly, hyperaware of Gideon’s gaze on my profile.
“She wants your approval,” Gideon said grimly.
His words rubbed over me like sandpaper.
“Is that true?” Dr. Petersen asked me.
“No.”
“The hell it isn’t.” The rasp in Gideon’s voice was pronounced.
“It’s not,” I argued, although I’d needed him to say it aloud for me to understand that. “I just . . . It’s just the truth. That’s the way I feel.”
I looked at Dr. Petersen. “We have to make this work. We’re going to make this work,” I stressed. “I just want to know that you’re on the same page. I need to know that you understand that failure isn’t an option.”
“Eva.” He smiled kindly. “You and Gideon have a lot to work through, but it’s certainly not insurmountable.”
My breath left me in a rush of relief. “I love him,” I said again, with a decisive nod.