Page 81 of Burn Point

And that feeling of being claimed by someone, although now was a weird moment to realize it, was something that I wasn’t used to.

“I think I need to call her back.”

Collins studied me for a moment more, his grey eyes gleaming. “She know you got it bad for her?” One corner of his mouth tipped up. If I didn’t know better, I’d say it was a grin, but Mac Collins never grinned. “Hell, do you know you have it bad for her?”

“I don’t know, Cap. But I think I fucked up and I need to take care of my girl.”

He nodded. “Good call. Get the fuck out of here.”

I shot up from the table, grabbing my empty plate, and dumping it in the dishwasher. I had my phone in hand as I entered the hallway. It was late and she might be asleep, so rather than call, I tapped out a quick message.

Nate: Hey doll, you up?

I waited a few minutes and got no response. I was a fool for not taking more care with her. She showed me she cared in so many ways, always willing to spend an extra minute with me, to listen, to just be with me. She took care of me in so many ways. Showed me she cared for me by listening, paying attention, being there even when I didn’t want to admit that I needed her. And I’d been a heartless ass. With my heart in my throat, I wrote more, trying to convey all the emotions swirling inside me in a simple text.

Nate: Skippy, I need to apologize. I should’ve known you’d be worried. Hell, I would’ve been, if I’d been in your shoes. I can’t stand the thought of you hurting or being worried. It’s ripping me up inside. You’re probably sitting here reading this message right now thinking I’m some kind of douchebag asshole, and you’d be right. I feel like one. I just wanted you to know that I’m sorry. Please say we can talk it out in the morning. Sleep well.

The next morning, I careened into the driveway and jumped out of truck, racing to my front door to find it unlocked. Like Jordan knew I was coming. She always did that, probably had a hot cup of coffee waiting for me too, because she was so sweet and always took care of me that way.

Guilt had bile rising in my throat as I busted through the front of the house, searching for her. Needing to see her, and still not trusting all these feelings coursing through my body.

I’d lain awake all night, thinking about all the ways things could have gone wrong in that fire. And all the ways things could have gone wrong on her trip. She’d made sure that I knew that she was safe. And what had I done? I’d discounted her. Made her feel like a nuisance, unworthy of a simple phone call.

Just like my parents had all the times they’d forgotten about me or left me home alone late into the night. Leaving me feeling small and unlovable.

I finally found her standing by the coffee maker, staring out the window like I’d found her countless other mornings. She held a mug while a fresh one brewed, no doubt for me. She must’ve started it when she heard the truck pull up. I halted at the edge of the room, unsure what to say. How to act.

Something clenched deep in my chest that would only ease if she turned around to give me one of her smiles.

But she didn’t turn around.

Instead, she dropped her head, her mug clanking to the counter. She looked utterly defeated, arms hanging limp by her side. Then her shoulders shook.

Motherfucker, I’d made her cry. Again.

In two strides, I was across the kitchen and wrapping my arms around her, burying my face in her neck. Her hands landed on my arms, and her chest heaved as a sob broke loose, the sound shattering any composure I had left. She turned in my arms, and we wrapped each other up. Faces buried in necks.

Her tears coated the skin above my uniform shirt. I clasped the back of her head, holding her to me. Tears pricked my own eyes.

“Skippy, you’re fucking killing me. Please don’t cry,” I begged, my voice as broken as I felt.

She hugged me tighter, squeezing me while she emptied her emotions all over me. I didn’t fucking care. I’d take them. I’d take anything this woman would give me. Never had anyone made me feel so cared for, so important, so loved.

I hadn’t even known how much I needed that until she came into my life.

And I’d hurt her so much that she was crying her heart out all over me.

Well, let her cry.

I’d be strong enough for the both of us.

I’d wipe her tears and hold her hands. And let her know every damn day how much I loved her. Because love was the only thing this feeling could be.

She finally quieted, just resting in my arms. She pressed kisses along my neck and jaw.

“I’m sorry I cried on you,” she whispered.

“Baby, you can always cry on me. I will always be here for you.”

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