Page 99 of Our Secrets and Scars

Holden pulls away, sensing that my mind has wandered elsewhere.

“Where did you go, little one?”

I blink up at him with big, blurry eyes. He sighs, though it’s not one of frustration or disappointment but rather one of shame. I can hear his guilt in the long exhale of breath, can feel it when it tickles across my cheek.

“You’re not okay, are you?”

I shake my head, tears blooming like cherry blossoms in spring.

Holden keeps his position above me, but the stance is protective, not sexual. He supports himself on his forearms at either side of my head and shifts so that he can stroke my hair as he looks at me.

“Talk to me, Kinz,” he pleads.

“I’m scared I won’t be able to trust you again.”

He squeezes his eyes shut like the words hurt him, but I know he understands. He accepts what I’m saying even though it’s hard to hear.

“I understand why you didn’t tell me who you were,” I reassure him. “But I can’t seem to shift this nagging paranoia that you’re still keeping things from me. And I so want to believe you when you say that there are no more secrets, but—”

“But you don’t,” he finishes for me.

I shake my head again.

“Tell me how I can make this better.”

“I don’t know,” I whisper.

A tear spills, and Holden catches it with his thumb, his eyes aglow with crippling regret. But I’m not crying because I want him to feel bad or because I’m still hurt, I’m crying because I truly don’t know what he can do to rebuild the trust between us.

“Doesn’t it scare you?” I ask. “Love should be easy, you know? And it’s not for us. It’s painful and complicated and delicate, and that frightens me. Because what if I’m not able to trust you again? What if things between us are always hard and complicated?”

“Loving youiseasy, Kinsley. It’s the easiest fucking thing I’ve ever done. But that doesn’t mean we won’t have to work at what we have every day. I fucked up. I did, I fucked up terribly and I’m so damn sorry for that. But the truth is, I’m probably going to fuck up again someday, and you will too. We’ll hurt each other even if we don’t want to because that’s real life.”

His hands stroke through my hair, soft and sweet.

“I’m okay with that,” he continues. “But the question is, are you? I will spend every second of the rest of my life trying to be someone who deserves your heart and your love and your trust. That’s a promise I will keep until the day I die. But I can’t pretend that I’ll never make a mistake again, because at the end of the day, I’m only human. And humans make mistakes, it’s unavoidable. What matters most is how we handle it afterward.”

He sucks in a breath.

“I’ve made peace with the fact that we’ll inevitably hurt each other, probably plenty of times, because that’s what happens in even the strongest relationships. But believe me when I say that whatever happens, we’ll be okay. Because I will always love you more than any argument or disagreement we may have. Every single time. Little one, I can’t promise you an easy love, but I can promise you a real one. I’ve just gotta know if that’s enough for you.”

Is it?

Am I okay with knowing that our love won’t always be perfect? That there will be some days when we have to work harder at our relationship than others?

I think I have to be.

Because he’s right, true love isn’t possible without some level of suffering.

If I never open myself up to the possibility of pain, or even heartbreak, then the only relationships I’ll have will be tedious and unexciting. Yeah, it might mean that I can live forever in the cushioned safety of my comfort zone with an unbroken heart, but is that the kind of love I want?

No.

I want an untamed, ferocious, explosive kind of love. The kind that burns like wildfire and sets our souls alight with a passion that leads to screaming fights and makeup sex. I want the kind of love that books are written about. The kind that twists into our hearts so tightly that nothing could ever be strong enough to undo it. I want a love that is both tender and violent. Savage, but tame. Safe, but unrestrained.

And I want it all with him.

“It’s enough for me,” I whisper into the thick silence.

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