Page 74 of Bossy Hero

If she can’t choose me now, she never will.

My feet draw to a stop a foot in front of her bedroom, and I stare at the doorknob, my breath choppy.

“Fuck it.”Without knocking, I throw open the door. “Maddie, listen to?—”

My words catch in my throat when I see her. She’s lying on the bed on her side, cuddled around a pillow in the fetal position, sobbing softly.

I’m struck by a memory of when we met. When I stayed awake most of the night, watching over her. She was in the same position, surrounded by a pillow fort, cowering in fear and sadness. Tears dampening the bedding.

Just like now.

All these years, and she’s still so... broken.

Because she’s given up.

On me. On herself. Her future.

On us.

Instead of making me sympathetic to her suffering, it enrages me.

Iknowshe’s stronger than this. I’ve fucking seen it firsthand. Fleeting at times, but her strength is always there. Under the surface.

Sammy’s death undoubtedly set her back, but she’s capable of fighting through it. Sadly, whoever is inside her head telling her otherwise is much louder than the roar of the bear right now.

“Just leave, Alan. There’s nothing for you here,” she warbles between thin sobs.

Even if she tried, she could never be more wrong—everything is here for me.

It’s my instinct to coddle her when she’s like this. To be soft and gentle with her. Treat her like she’s weak.

Except she isn’t that. Even if I’m the only one who realizes it.

Maybe if everyone stopped treating her like she was made of glass, she’d stop feeling so damn fragile.

“Please go,” she insists, throwing her arm over her face to hide from me.

With no finesse, I plant my ass on the edge of her bed, keeping my back to her. “Fuck that. I’m not leaving until you’re honest with me.”

Her whimpering slows, and her breathing steadies. “I already told you the truth. Please leave.”

Sighing, I shake my head. “That wasn’t the truth. That was solid-gold bullshit. And so, I’ll wait.”

The bed covers rustle, and there’s a slight tug to them under me. I suspect she’s sitting up.

But I don’t turn around and face her.

I wait.

After all, I’m a pro at waiting for her.

“Alan, you should leave.”

At least her voice is losing some of the sadness.

“No, thanks,” I snark flatly.

“You’re not leaving?” She sniffles. “You’re going against my wishes in my own home?”

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