Page 70 of Free to Judge
He scrubs the back of his neck. “Maybe?”
“You’re not sure?” My heart breaks inside my chest for this man.
“It’s been so long since I let anyone in, Kalie. I don’t know how to.” His voice is low, almost as if he expects me to interrupt him, but I stay silent. “You’re the first person I even considered letting close. When I thought you sold me out?—”
“I didn’t.” My argumentative nature fires, but I fight it. He’s here; he’s trying.
“I know that now.” He looks up at me with something unguarded and raw in his eyes. “But I’m terrified.”
“Of what?”
“Of losing you.” He swallows before pushing the next words out of his mouth. “I won’t put you at risk. I’ll do anything to protect you.”
“You have to start by trusting me.”
He holds his hand out, palm up. “That’s what I’m trying to say.”
I lay mine on his. “What?”
“I do trust you.”
My eyes narrow. “Sure didn’t seem like it.”
He absorbs my condemnation. “I feel like I have to keep pushing you away to keep you safe.”
My fingers tighten on his. “Stop pushing. Trust me to come to you if I think there’s a problem or if I believe my family is in danger. Start there.”
The words hang in the air between us. He’s weighing them, fighting against the part of himself that’s been closed off for so long. Finally, he gives me a part of himself I never expected he’d hand over.
His trust.
“When I’m with you, everything is real—every word, every emotion. Nothing is a lie.”
The flutter in my chest increases. I interlace our fingers. “Is that so?”
“It is.” He lifts my hand to his mouth and brushes his lips across my knuckles back and forth. “How does that make you feel?”
“Excited. Anxious?”
He huffs out a laugh. “At least I’m not alone.”
“In what you’re feeling?”
“Yeah, firebrand.”
I tilt my head to the side. “Why do you call me that?”
“Because a firebrand is someone who is provocative, passionate, and disruptive.” He quirks a brow. “Sound like anyone in this room?”
I feel my cheeks warm even as Declan pulls me closer. His forehead rests against mine. For a long moment we don’t say anything. I whisper, “What do you want?”
“Now or long term?”
“Both.”
“Long term, I want to stop pretending I’m something I’m not.”
“Then stop.” My cheek nuzzles against his.
