Page 43 of Silent Is The Heart

“Close up.”

Scoffing, he shrugs into his coat, forcing him to finally use his words. “Are you fucking shrinking me because I turned you down? Get over yourself.”

The fact that they’re ugly words makes me sad for him. I don’t deserve them, and I know he doesn’t mean them. How many times has he isolated himself in his life to avoid facing things that are difficult for him? You can’t live in a bathtub, proverbial or real.

When he waltzes toward me like he’s intent on heading out the door, I see a window closing. Jumping forward, I grab ahold of his arm to stop him, but he whirls back around.

“What the fuck?” he laughs a bitter sound.

“Stop it,” I demand, even though it comes out shaky over my bold move. “IknowI’m not wrong. You want me just as much as I want you.”

“What?” he laughs breathlessly, shirking my hand off. “Get the fuck off me. You’re delusional.”

“I’m not,” I soothe, placing my palms on his shoulders as gently as I can. “Talk to me. What’s the problem?”

“There’s noproblem. You want to play rough? I can play rougher than you,” he says testily, swatting my hands away. “Don’t test me.”

My arms fall easily showing just hownotrough I was playing. The glower on his face is all posturing, but apparently I’m the only one in the room who knows it.

I’m ashamed to admit it, but I forgot him once. I won’t forget him again and that includes ignoring whatever he’s running from. When he spins on his heel like he’s going to storm out, I panic.

You’re not supposed to keep people who want to leave from leaving, but Easton walking out that door is more than just someone fleeing an argument. It’s a sentence, a nail in a coffin that tells me I’ll never see him again. It’s a ticker tape repeating that he’ll continue to run for the rest of his life whenever someone scratches whatever old wound I just did.

Throwing my arms around him from behind, I steer him away from that opening that’ll take him away from me. “Bullshit!” I scold, holding him against the credenza. “You blow hot and cold, and then tell meI’mdelusional? I’m not buying your tough guy act anymore. I lived with lies for years, Easton. I’m not doing it anymore. I need the truth.”

“What truth is that?” he scoffs, his fingers pulling at my wrist like he’s trying to worm free of my grip.

He could if he wanted to. We’re the same height and although I’m a little thicker, his muscles get more active use than mine ever do. His feeble attempt tells me he doesn’t want to hurt me, andthat…is all I need to know.

“You’re scared,” I whisper aloud, the realization softening every fiber in my body. “Just admit it.”

The hardness in him evaporates like he transformed from a solid to a liquid, and he goes completely still against me. Gaze fixed on the surface of the credenza, he lets out an unconvincing laugh. “What the fuck would I be scared of?”

His heartbeat is pounding under my palm. He might as well have been a child uttering that he isn’t afraid of monsters while cowering underneath a blanket with a flashlight for all the weight that held. Peering over his shoulder, I watch the rise and fall of his chest in the mirror. As self-conscious as I was a moment ago about latching onto him, now I never want to let him go.

“Us,” I tell him softly. “This.Me…yourself.”

For a second, I stop breathing right along with him. It’s like watching dominoes tumble, staring at the reflection of his lost gaze. I want to comfort him so badly, want to reward him for this quiet moment of facing his truth, a truth that I’m humbled to be a part of.

Bringing my mouth to his neck cautiously, I press a delicate kiss there. He trembles at the touch of my lips. His gaze flicks to mine in the mirror. There’s a new kind of terror in his eyes, that of a thief who’s just been caught red handed. Cheeks tinted pink, his heart still hammering under my touch, I watch him swallow, staring back at me with a look I haven’t seen in eight years. Except, it registers so much differently this time.

My God…

“Thisis what you wanted, isn’t it?” The disbelieving words tumble from my lips. “All those years ago?”

His face blooms, and he looks away. I can feel him stiffen in my arms again.

Shit. No. I can’t let him go like this.

“Don’t,” I caution, reaching up to his jaw, urging him to look back at the mirror so he can see me. The shame on his beautiful face chokes me up. It’s such a compliment and yet so painful to witness. I had no idea. I know there’s no way it would have been possible back then to reciprocate what I’m seeing in his eyes as he lowers them again, but my heart shatters for leaving him the way I did now that I know.

“Let me see,” I plead. “Please?”

His feet shift like an anxious rodeo bull in a cage. With a labored breath, he looks slowly back up. It’s proud, and stubborn, and gorgeous, as if he’s confessing to a crime. I’ve never been more honored in my life by a single look.

“I…didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

It’s barely a whisper. “Well…now you know.”

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