Page 59 of It's Always Us

“I want you, and I want this baby more than anything. You’ve . . . ” His voice is so soft it’s almost a whisper. “You’ve made my only remaining dream come true.” He kisses my temple. “Don’t push me away. Nothing else matters anymore but this.”

I step away, breaking the connection. “I heard you that morning in Vegas, and I’ve heard you every day since.”

He frowns. “What? You heard what?”

“You don’t have time for this. Us.”

His head cocks to the side an inch, but he’s looking way too calm, and it has my walls going right back up brick by brick. “My season is over. I need my shoulder to heal and see what I can do, but from this point forward, my focus is on us.”

“There is no us. Talking on the phone a few times a week isn’t a relationship. We’re living in what used to be, not where we are now.” His head drops to the floor. “We didn’t think this through. After all this time, marrying me on a whim? Mark, you came back thinking I was about to marry someone else. Would you have even done that if you hadn’t somehow found out I was getting married?”

He huffs, running a hand through the longer hairs on the top of his head, and I can see that I hit an emotional nerve.

“I would haveneverleft all those years ago. If I’d known you were going to ghost me, I would have stayed.”

Jab. Jab. Jab.The truth is excruciatingly painful.But you couldn’t stay. I couldn’t let you. It would have destroyed you.

I swallow down the aching lump choking me. “You and I . . . everything is different, and we won’t even know in all the ways because we’re never together.” He doesn’t move, and I can’t tell what he’s thinking. “I’m going home, and you’ll go on with your life wherever that ends up being.”

He laughs. He freaking laughs. “Like hell you are. We can go back to Ohio, but we’re going together to get your stuff. You’re my wife, and you’re carrying my child. We’re going to be together. Forever.”

My hands move to my hips. “And I don’t get a say in this?”

He rubs his face, and his shoulders sag. “Lex, why are you doing this? You showed up in Vegas. You came to me.Wegot married. You were there and a willing participant. Everything that happened that night wasn’t a mistake. It was . . . everything to me.”

His confusion and torment are evident, and I’m responsible. My insides are being torn apart. A lot of me wants to go to him and pretend this will all turn out the way I’ve always dreamed. The other responsible part knows that life doesn’t work that way, and that’s only become even more apparent over the last twenty-four hours.

He steps closer again, sliding his hand against my cheek and leaving it there. “Please tell me what’s going on inside your head. I used to be able to read you and know exactly what you were thinking when you get quiet. I can’t do that anymore, and I hate it.”

I step away, needing space. I lower myself to the edge of his bed, knowing I need to tell him something. I just don’t know what that something is. I’m confused and lost in all of this.

“I need a few minutes to think. Everything is . . . ” I don’t even know. My eyes sting with frustration, but I blink it away.

His troubled, dark eyes meet mine, and he nods. “I’m going to kick everyone out. We both need a few minutes and then we’re going to figure this out. Together. No more running, Lex. Not from me.”

He waits for me to agree, and I nod. He leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Maybe to give me privacy or maybe so I can’t escape. I want to. It’d be easier, but I know that I can’t run away from this, and I can’t run away from him.

My feet and brain are tired. I’m tired of running but always staying still. I’ve been running in place for the last eight years, trying to get this man out of my head and my heart. It’s never worked.

I glance around his messy room. Clothes hang on the top of the bathroom door, and there’s a pile on the floor. Two of his dresser drawers are half open, with clothes shoved inside. Empty glasses are on his nightstand, along with an iPad.

My vision blurs. He used to say that once he left the group home, he’d never keep a tidy room again. Even with tears cresting, my lips turn upward at the sight.

I dab the wetness away with the hem of his shirt, catching a whiff of whatever was blasted all over me. I go into his bathroom and turn the shower on. Then peel my clothes off to scrub myself clean.

When I step out, drying off, I remember my suitcase is still sitting by the front door. I move to his dresser, pull out one of his t-shirts, and slip it over my head. Unlike the one at home, this one smells like him and isn’t full of holes.

I lie back on the bed and stare up at the ceiling. Everything is changing so fast. My brain is moving a million miles a minute, just as it had the morning I left him in Vegas.

I roll over and climb into his bed. While he breaks up his party, I need a nap. I’ve never been more tired in my life. If I have to be near him and keep a clear head, I need energy and strength.

I rest my head on his pillow and pull the covers over me. His bed is huge and soft and immediately warm. His scent envelops me. Mark the man. My eyes drift shut, thinking the only thing that would make it better is if he were in it with me.

Damn. I’m in so much trouble.

Chapter 19

MARK

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