Page 28 of The Final Faceoff
I hate how easily he says it, how effortless he makes it sound. Like it’s simple. Like I can just decide to belong somewhere. I can just start a new life. And how does he remember about the Ph.D.? I do want to become a teacher at some point, because I know traveling places isn’t forever.
I exhale hard, turning away from him, pressing my fingers against my forehead like I can physically push the panic back inside. “You don’t have to do this,” I say, my voice quieter now. “You don’t have to—take care of me.”
Leif doesn’t hesitate. “I know.”
I squeeze my eyes shut, exasperated. “Then why are you doing it?”
His voice is soft, steady. “Because I want to.”
I shake my head. “You can’t want this.”
“I do.”
I spin, glaring at him. “Leif, you have a life. You have your routines, your schedule, your team. You don’t have time to play babysitter to a woman who doesn’t know how to sit still and is about to have a baby.”
His lips twitch like he’s fighting a smirk. “I think I can handle you.”
I groan. “You’re impossible.”
“No, I’m persistent.”
I huff, dragging my hands through my hair. “Leif, I crash on couches and live out of a suitcase. I don’t do things like settle down or—” I make another helpless gesture, repeat what I just said a few minutes ago hoping it’ll sink in this time. “Have a permanent address.”
“Then it’s a good thing you won’t have to sign a lease,” he says easily. “You just have to move your stuff in.”
I let out a sharp, humorless laugh. “My stuff is exactly one suitcase and a duffel bag.”
“Great. That’ll make moving day really easy.” He then arches an eyebrow. “You might want to take your shit out of storage though.”
I groan, tipping my head back, glaring at the ceiling like it holds the answers. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
I drop my head, meeting his gaze again. “Because you know I don’t deserve it,” I blurt.
Leif stills.
The air shifts, like something heavy just landed between us.
I wish I could take it back, shove the words back inside where they belong, but they’re out now. Hanging there. Stupid and raw and so embarrassingly true that I want to claw my skin off.
I force a laugh, light and brittle. “I mean, come on, Leif. I’m a disaster. You know that. I’ve spent my entire life running. Always the next country, the next assignment, the next thing to keep me moving forward so I don’t have to stop and look at how much of a mess I actually am. And now—” I gesture vaguely to my stomach. “Now I’ve gone and made it permanent.”
Leif doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches me, his jaw tight, his eyes too damn knowing.
Then, finally, he exhales. “Okay.”
I frown. “Okay?”
He nods. “Yeah. Okay.”
I blink. “You’re—agreeing with me?”
“Not exactly.” His lips twitch. “I’m just acknowledging that you’re an idiot.”
I gape at him. “Excuse me?”
“Look, I get it.” He leans against the wall, arms still crossed. “You think you don’t deserve good things. Your father made that perfectly clear after your mother died. I’ve told you not once, not twice, but several times that you need fucking therapy and to stay away from him. Right now, you believe you’re not worthy of love, or a home, or . . . I bet that you don’t even think you deserve a family.” His voice softens. “But let me tell you that you deserve that and more.”
