Page 147 of Collided

“Will you tell me what really happened?”

I avoid his gaze. “It doesn't matter,” I say and fiddle with the ball.

His hand catches my wrist, and he gently squeezes it, nudging me to look at him.

“Why doesn't it fucking matter?”

I think about all the reasons that it won’t matter to him like it didn’t matter to my mother. He won’t believe me. Like she didn’t. I’ll be a burden for him. A situation he can’t help me with but pity me.

I don’t want his pity or worry.

I want him to like me without my burden.

“Because what happened doesn’t bear any importance,” I repeat the words that perfectly sum up how my mother made me feel about abuse.It. Is. Not. Important.

Heath stiffens. Tension radiates off his body in waves and hits me.

Then his thumb begins swiping over my skin. Back and forth. Back and forth. The action surges my numb nerves with electricity that bursts sparks into my blood, making warmth flow through me.

“Itisfucking important, and it fuckingmatters, to me. You matter to me, Rose,” he says softly.

I matter to him.

The shock from his words jostles me. I slip my hand out of his hold. “We…should practice.”

I go first even though it’s his turn.

I just can’t stand in front of him when my heart is beating painfully fast, and my head is repeating his words on a loop.You matter to me, Rose.

Like before no pins hit the ground and I’m reminded just how terrible I am at this game—the absolute worst.

Heath is gazing at the pins. With a sigh, he moves his attention to me.

Striding closer, he gets behind me and my body immediately straightens. Gently, he grips my wrist with one hand and circles my waist with the other. A quiet gasp leaves my mouth.

My entire focus is on him and the way he holds me, so close and softly against his body.

“Relax,” he whispers into my ear.

How am I supposed to relax when you’re so close to me?

I try to loosen my muscles and lean more into him. At once, his hand on my waist tightens and his fingers dig into my skin lightly.

“This isn’t relaxing, Rose.”

“I’m trying,” I murmur.

“You feel like I’m holding cardboard and not a pretty girl.”

“Hey!” I turn to him and right there is his face. So close to me.

“I won’t hurt you,” he says.

“That’s not it.” It’s the truth. I’m not afraid of him. Not even a little bit.

“Hmm. I find that fucking hard to believe.”

I laugh. “I’ve never met anyone who uses the f-word this much.”

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