Page 115 of Branded
“I know, little bird.”
“You made me?—”
“No.” I rolled to my back, bringing her with me. “No, honey. That was you. That was my little bird, flying from the fucking nest, finding the strength, the bravery to spread her wings and soar.”
She stilled.
“That’s—” A shake of her head. “That’s how you see me?” she asked. “That’s why—?” Her eyes filled with tears. “That’s why you call me that?”
I wiped a tear away. “Because I knew you’d soar, baby. I knew you would find the moment to leap, and you’d fucking soar.”
She inhaled sharply, and there were more tears that I had to wipe away.
“Shit, Smitty,” she snapped after a minute.
“What?”
I’d brought her close, was cradling her against my chest.
“Why are you so fucking perfect?” She pushed up. “Perfect for me. So much more than anything I could have ever dreamed of. You…you give my fantasies life and I love you,” she whispered, fingers weaving into my beard, pressing to my jaw. “You’re perfect.”
“Fuck.”
She blinked. “What?”
The words had struck me. Hard. Sinking in through my skin, swimming around through my bloodstream, dropping into my heart with an impact that made it nearly impossible for me to breathe, to speak. “Now you’re going to be wiping away my tears,” I murmured, covering her hand with my own.
Kailey smiled, and it sent another impact to my heart.
She leaned in, kissed lightly beneath one eye and then the other, and I knew that she was kissing away moisture, a couple of salted drops that had escaped.
But…she thought I was perfect.
Perfect for her.
And…I’d never had those words before, had never realized quite how much I’d needed them. Perfect. I was perfect. And perfect for her.
That was…
A lot. Everything. Too much. Not enough. Just right.
That feeling of right sank into me, holding me tight, driving me to stop fucking thinking and to flip us over, rolling to my back, wanting to show her exactly how right I could be, how perfect we could be together, how much I loved this woman who I’d wanted to watch soar through the sky and how by her doing so meant that I could fly, too.
I could let go of the dead weight and fucking soar.
Not good enough.
Not strong enough.
Not smart enough.
A disappointment. A failure. An example of mediocrity.
If I hadn’t thought that, if those thoughts weren’t burned into my very soul, I would have been able to shake that off, to not be bothered by the bullshit.
That the words had stuck so deep, struck so hard…
Later.
