Page 115 of The Wrong Play

Jace hadn’t moved.

I should’ve told him to leave. I should’ve shoved him off my bed, told him to go home, told him that I could handle this on my own.

Because that was how it always was.

How it always had to be.

I had spent my entire life beingtoo muchfor people. Too much to deal with. Too much work.

They’d accused me of faking it, of being lazy, of exaggerating what was happening to my body so I could get attention.

I had learned a long time ago that the safest way to protect myself was to just…not let people in.

Because no one really cared.

No oneeverchose me, prioritized me, tried to understand what I was going through.

Jace would be no different.

Except—

He was still here. He hadn’t flinched. Hadn’t pulled away. Hadn’trun.

Tears burned in my throat.

I sucked in a breath, willing myself to push them back, but Jace—of course,Jace fucking noticed.

His fingers brushed against my jaw, turning my face toward him.

“Baby,” he murmured, his voice softer now, like he was handling something fragile. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours?”

I swallowed. “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“And yet, here I am.”

I shut my eyes. “You don’t…you don’t understand. I don’t get better. I getthroughit, and then it happens again. And again. And eventually, people get tired of dealing with it. Of dealing withme.”

He was quiet for a long moment.

And then?—

“You think I scare that easy?”

My eyes snapped open. Jace was looking at me like I had just personallyoffendedhim.

Like I hadwoundedhim.

His fingers traced my cheek, his gaze burning into me. “I don’t get scared, Riley.”

I didn’t blink. “I know I’m a burden,” I whispered.

His eyes flashed. “Not to me.”

Jace’s voice was quiet but steady, filled with a kind of certainty that made my breath hitch. His thumb trailed over my knuckles, his grip warm, solid—like he was grounding me in place.

“You keep acting like letting me take care of you is some kind of burden, like it’s asking too much,” he murmured, his gaze locking onto mine. “Like I’m supposed to be scared of this…of you. But, Riley, that’s not how this works. That’s not howwework.”

His fingers curled around mine, holding on like he had no intention of letting go. “Loving you isn’t some fucking chore. It’s not a weight around my neck, not something I have to suffer through. Youthinkyou’re hard to love, but you don’t get it. You don’t understand that loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

---