Page 46 of Before I Loved You

I wrap one arm around her back, holding her small body firmly against me, keeping her safe.

“What’s going on, Sarah?”

“I can’t…”

I take my free hand, placing it on her cheek. Something is stopping her from telling me what’s bothering her, and I wish I knew what it was.

But I’m not pushing her any more tonight.

Because now, it’s time to take down that top layer of bricks.

“One of the things I liked about you when we first met was that you had no idea who I was. Or who my father is…was…I should say.” Her face tilts up the tiniest bit. “My dad was one of the best NBA players in the league, Steve Weston.” I feel her hand gently grip the center of my shirt, getting comfortable. “He broke record after record and brought his team to the championship year after year. He was unstoppable. Until he wasn’t.” I heave a sigh. “When I was ten years old, he died. He had just returned to the airport after being on the road, and instead of taking the bus with the team to the arena, he opted to rent a car to head straight home. He was eager to see my mom. They were so in love. As a kid, I thought it was gross.” I let out a little laugh. “But now, when I think about it, I find it beautiful. They were soul mates in every way. But on his way home, a drunk driver hit him, running straight through a stop sign. He died on impact. It was only a few days after Christmas.”

My eyes begin to blur as the memory plays out before me. The twinkling Christmas lights and decorations were still up. There was a knock at the door, and my mom smiled wide, telling me to answer it because she assumed it was my dad. But as I opened the door to find two police officers standing there, confusion hit me. I asked them where my dad was, and they looked at each other as my mom approached me, pulling me behind her. That’s when they gave her the grim news.

My dad was dead.

“I never grieved properly. I just threw myself into…basketball.” I let out a lungful of air. “The apple didn’t fall very far from the tree with basketball. People compare me to my father all of the time. They tell me I’ll be just like him, if not better. I have NBA teams fighting over me when I haven’t even graduated yet, and sometimes, it just feels like too much. It’s just so fucking—”

“Overwhelming,” she whispers.

I brush my fingers against her arm, eyeing her tattoos that somehow help calm me. “Yeah. Overwhelming. And sometimes so overwhelming that I panic. I panic I’ll never be good enough to be compared to him. I panic over letting everyone down, including my dad. I panic that I’m not worthy of that last name on my jersey. And I panic that I don’t even know who I am anymore. The only people at school who know I get panic attacks are Nate and my buddy Glen because they’ve both witnessed them happening to me. But you’re the only person I’ve ever admitted any of this to.”

She looks up at me with fresh tears cascading down her cheeks. “I’m so sorry, Paul.”

“Don’t cry, Sarah. It breaks my heart to see you cry,” I whisper, tightening my arms around her.

“I don’t know what’s happening to me.” She wipes away her tears, her mascara smudging under her eyes.

“You’re letting go. And I bet tomorrow morning, you’ll feel a lot better for doing so.”

She presses her hand to my cheek. “I’m so sorry you went through all of that as a child. Losing a father at such a young age…it’s not fair.” Her eyes close momentarily before opening and looking intently at me. “When I look at you, I only see you, not the name on your jersey. I see a man who is kind and smart. Strong and giving. I see someone who puts others before himself and has only ever…only ever cared for me even when I don’t deserve it.” Her voice cracks at the end as she looks away.

I cup her cheek and brush my thumb across her bottom lip. “You deserve everything.”

She shakes her head softly. “I’ve made mistakes that I can’t…well, what I mean is…” Her eyes pierce mine. “I see you, Paul Weston. All ten feet of you.” She smiles, and it’s the most beautiful smile I’ve ever seen because it’s real. I lean in, sweeping my lips against hers. “Even if you don’t see yourself for who you truly are, I do. And I like what I see.”

Her words lift an invisible weight from crushing my chest.

She leans in, softly brushing her lips against mine before pressing down.

It’s soft and slow.

Sensual and sweet.

It’s everything we both need right now.

“Sarah?”

“Yes,” she breathes against my lips.

“Do you remember those three words you said to me at the bar that night? What you asked me to do for you?” My hand slides behind her neck, savoring the warmth of her soft skin under the palm of my hand.

She hesitates before nodding.

“Make me forget.”

Those three words that I took to heart, doing exactly what she asked of me.

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