Page 125 of It's Always Us

She leaves me as the driver rolls the truck off the trailer, and the smile on her beautiful face is everything I was hoping for.

She turns back to me, beaming. “It’s big enough for the babies.”

Chapter 36

LEX

I squat, trying to get low enough to see how bad the undercarriage is as the soft country music plays on my phone. There’s rust, but the floor panels don’t look as bad as I expected.

I hoist myself up, surveying the classic truck, still unable to believe Mark bought this. It’s perfect. It’s exactly what I would have picked, and somehow he knew.

The driver’s side door whines with age as I open it, and I see the potential. My hands itch to get to work. The heavy stuff is where I need to start, but it’ll have to wait until the babies are born. It doesn’t mean I can’t plan, though.

This past month and a half with Mark has been amazing. It’s been six months since Vegas, and I’m finally getting to know the man I married again.

Mark relies on consistency. He always has. When things are unstable, he’s not giving away a single part of his anxiety and fear. It’s too risky and scary, so he keeps it all locked up tight. I see all of that clearly now.

I ache for him. I’m filled with sorrow for the part I played in making him feel like he has to guard himself.

I’ve seen it while he waits to hear from teams. He’s good at pretending to be patient and believing the right team will come through, but underneath, the idea of not being wanted or sought after is eating him alive. The thought that the very thing that has kept him going might be over, and it not being his choice, is wreaking havoc on his need to feel secure.

Mark needs security—something he’s never had. I’m understanding that now. I need him to feel safe with me and know I’m not going anywhere ever again, but getting him to trust me enough to truly believe it will take time.

I hurt him more than I may ever know, but I’ll wait, give it time, and keep showing him until he has no choice but to believe.

The door to the garage swings open, and Mark steps into the garage, rubbing his eyes.His hair is swept across his forehead, and his joggers hang low on his waist.Oh, man.Sleepy, Mark, uninhibited by the protective layers of carefree bubble wrap he surrounds himself with, is almost too much.This will never get old.

He squints his dark eyes at me, trying to avoid the bright light. “What are you doing? It’s one a.m.”

“I can’t sleep. I was laying there, staring at the ceiling, so I came out here to figure out what parts I’ll need.”

He moves into the light, more awake now. “I don’t like waking up and you not being there.” He says it with a bit of force, and it only confirms the scars run as deep as I’m gathering.

“I’m sorry.” I smile, liking his groggy irritation. “She’s got potential. I’ll eventually need Slade out here for a weekend to help me pull the engine.”

“Slade, huh?” he grunts.

I glance at him, unable to hide my grin at his jealous tone. “Yeah, he’s big and strong and will be able to help me strip it.”

“Big and strong, my ass,” he grumbles.

I laugh. “You know you’re cute when you’re jealous.”

He stands straighter, his hands on his hips and fully alive. “Baby, he had eight years to make a move, or he did and didn’t work. Either way, you’re mine. You’ve always been mine. I’m not jealous.”

I eye him, knowing he’s full of crap. He’s a little jealous, but he’s one hundred percent right. I’ve always been his.

I peek in the back seat. “I’ll need to attach safety anchors to the body for the baby seats, but there will be plenty of room.” One side of his mouth tips up, and I have to look away. “I need a few more minutes. Hang out with me, and then we’ll go back to bed.”

He moves to me, sliding his arms around my middle, and pulls me against him.

“I told you if I hang out with you in the garage, especially wearing my T-shirt, you won’t get much work done.” He pushes my hair away from my neck, his mouth running over it.

“You’re trouble.” I tip my head to the side to give him better access.

“I never pretended not to be.”

I turn in his arms to face him and find his lips. His hands slide into my hair as mine glide over the muscles in his back. It only takes a second, and he’s pulling me toward the door, and who am I to fight him?

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