“And that night, our night, you and me,” I sigh, reaching deep down to find a way to communicate my feelings, “that night was perfect. From the way you caressed me, to the raw need we had for each other, to the way you held me after. It was everything I could have ever asked for, and yet, I left feeling so damn guilty. Do I have the right to feel like that with another man?” Tears stream down my face. “My life has been silent for so long and then you came along and brought music, lightness, and a brief glimpse of happiness into it.”
His hand links with mine, his broad body now turned toward me. “It’s going to take time, Hollyn. It’s understandable to feel guilty. It’s not like you chose to end your relationship with Eric, it was taken away from you. But the memories you have with and of him are his legacy, his gift to you. It’s not an easy task to move on from such a loss. But you are allowed to be happy again. You are allowed to move on.”
“I want to move on.”
From the corner of my eye, I see him nod. “Then move on with me, Hollyn. Fast or slow, I don’t care. Just don’t cut me out. Let me be there for you. With you.”
Finally giving him my attention, I see the compassion, the sincerity in his face and I wonder, is Jace a gift from Eric? Did he send Jace along to help me move on? From that viewpoint, it seems that way. Or am I just reaching for some type of justification to pursue something with Jace? I don’t want to be alone forever. He is the only one who has somehow breached my wall of grief, the only one who has reached me. I do want him, more than I ever thought possible.
“I want you there for me, Jace. I do.”
“Good.” He squeezes my hand. “We have a game coming up, a preseason game. Do you think you would want to fly down and watch it? I could hook you up with some good tickets.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “It would mean a lot to me if you were there, especially with all this Rebecca bullshit.”
A game. The last time I went to a baseball game was with Eric. Beer, pretzels, cheesy singing to classic ballpark songs, it was one of our favorite pastimes. Going to a game without him, can I do that?
“Hollyn, where did you go?”
Pulling me from my reverie, I wipe my tears. “I’m sorry, going to sporting events was something Eric and I cherished. I haven’t been to one since.”
“Oh, I didn’t know.” He pauses and then says, “I know it won’t be easy, but maybe you could take a chapter out of Dear Life. Face your fears. Make the leap, Hollyn. One more steppingstone toward proving your existence.”
There’s that word again; fear. It’s always clogging up our lives, putting us at a standstill until we’re able to finally push through and prevail. Maybe this is the time for me to push.
Taking a deep breath, my stomach doing nervous somersaults, I say, “Okay, I’ll go.”
A bit shocked, Jace sits up. “You’ll go? Seriously?” I nod my head, a small smile gracing my lips. “Well, fuck, babe. I wasn’t expecting that.” He chuckles. “Shit, I’m proud of you.”
I’m proud of you.
Four little words coming from a strong and loving man carry so much weight. The nerves rushing through me settle with those four little words.
He’s proud of me. Hell, I’m proud of myself.
Please God, please let me be able to handle it. I so desperately want to make the most of this opportunity.
One step closer.
DAISY
“Tell me about your childhood,” I say, running my hand along Carter’s stomach. My head is resting on his shoulder, his arm is wrapped around me, and his hand rests on my hip. It’s an intimate cuddle. Naked and snuggling, I love everything about it.
“Nah, you don’t want to hear about that,” he answers, his thumb rubbing against my skin.
“If I didn’t, then I wouldn’t have asked. Come on, I want to know more about you.”
After inhaling a long breath, he says, “There’s not much to say, Snowflake. My parents died of an overdose. Not the best examples, and since Uncle Chuck was my only living relative, he became my guardian. He didn’t hold back showing how much he hated being stuck with me, which made for a disturbing living arrangement. We fought often and when we weren’t fighting, we didn’t speak to each other. I got my GED and then went to culinary school. Unfortunately, I had to depend on my uncle to pay, which is why I’m indebted to him now. You’re with a real fucking winner, Snowflake.”
I can be na?ve, but I know sarcasm when I hear it.
“Why are you so hard on yourself? You have so much going for you.”
“Yeah.” He lets out a harsh laugh. “How so? What do I have going for me?”
“Well, you have your own place. You know right from wrong. You are a protector even though it seems like you didn’t have the best parents in the world to teach you. You have aspirations and dreams. You know what you want to be. That’s all very important.”
“You see the good in things so easily. Do you ever notice the bad?”
“I didn’t,” I admit. “Living with my grams, in our own little world, I wasn’t just sheltered from the outside world, but also from everything bad. I’ve spent almost my entire life knowing nothing other than happily ever afters. But then my grams had a stroke and everything changed. My rose-colored glasses turned clear, and I saw the world for what it is: a tumultuous community full of rights and wrongs. I just choose to notice the rights more than the wrongs.”
“A glass-half-full kind of girl.”
I kiss his chest. “I’m just grateful there is a glass to partake in.”
“A lifelong optimist, too bad you’re with a pessimist.”
“It’s a good balance.” Thinking back to what he said about his uncle, I ask, “Are you liking the Dear Life program?”
His chest rumbles beneath me with a silent chuckle. “Does it seem like I would be someone who would enjoy the program? I go because I have to, not because I want to.”
“So if you have to go, why not take advantage of it?”
“Because I’m not that kind of person. I’m not one to passively follow directions, I never have been. Apart from culinary school. Everything about the program makes me itch. Talking about feelings, writing shit down, airing my dirty laundry. I hate every aspect of that. I’m a private man. I haven’t been blessed with an easy life. I have a lot of battle wounds, a lot of deep-set scars, and it’s hard for me to look at life like you do. I’ve been burned way too many times.”
“You never know until you try,” I suggest, wishing Carter could get something out of the program.
He kisses the top of my head and squeezes me. “I know, Daisy. I’m meant to struggle my entire life, nothing will come easy and no program is going to fix that unfortunately.”
My heart hurts for him, to know he’s set on struggling day in and day out. To know that no matter what he accomplishes, he doesn’t have someone next to him cheering him on. To know the person who is supposed to show him love and support made him feel like an inconvenience at a young age. It just kills me.
“Let’s talk about something else,” he suggests.
“What do you want to talk about?”
His hand continues to stroke over my skin as he takes the time to think about our next conversation.
“Hmm . . . am I your type?”
“What?” I giggle.
“Your dream guy, do I fit the bill? Am I what you pictured in your mind?”
“Do you want the truth?”