Page 29 of Trick of the Flesh
Because he knew.
That my head won’t let me believe it.
And he was right. I was lying. I lie every time I say I don’t want this, that I don’t want him. I lie to myself when I pretend I can just walk away. And maybe he can see that in me, the way I can’t stand up to him, the way my body gives me away every single time.
I roll onto my side, then back, restless. My chest feels tight.
Pathetic.
Addicted to him and the way he makes me feel.
I sigh too loud, and Miguel stirs beside me, his arm sliding heavy across my stomach, pulling me back against him. His voice is rough and low with sleep. “I can hear you thinking.”
“Sorry,” I mumble. “Go back to sleep.”
“Not until you shut that shit down.” His hand tightens, firm, grounding me in place. “Talk.”
I freeze. “I don’t… I don’t want to bother you.”
Miguel exhales, long and slow, like I’ve said something especially stupid. “You don’t bother me. Ever. Now talk, Caleb.”
My throat closes, the words sticking like glue. But the silence feels heavier than speaking, so I force them out. “…I can’t stop replaying it. All of it. The things you say to me. The things you do to me.”
“Good.” He’s so calm, so matter-of-fact. “Means it worked.”
I choke out a laugh, bitter at myself. “No, it means I’m pathetic. I can’t even separate what’s real from what’s just in my head.”
His grip shifts, fingers digging into my hip. “It’s real. Every word is real.”
I roll onto my back, staring at the ceiling again. “Even when you said I’m everything to you? You don’t mean that. You can’t.”
He props himself up on one elbow, looking down at me, his gaze shadow-dark in the low light. “I don’t say shit I don’t mean. You are everything. I don’t care if your head’s too loud to hear it—you’ll hear it from me until it sticks.”
My chest aches. I turn my face away, embarrassed at how much it hurts to hear something like that. “You’ll get tired of me. Everyone does.”
He growls, low and dangerous, and suddenly, in the blink of an eye, he’s on top of me with his weight pinning me down, his hand on my jaw, forcing me to meet his eyes.
My breath catches. He doesn’t even have to raise his voice—it’s enough. He’s enough.
I swallow hard, voice breaking. “I’ll ruin this.”
“No.” His thumb strokes rough across my cheek, his tone softer now. “You won’t. You can’t ruin what’s mine.”
The words slice through me, sharp and terrifying. My headwon’t stop, spiraling faster. “Miggy, I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to turn my brain off. I don’t know how to believe you when you say things like that. When you look at me like I’m—” My voice cuts out before I say too much.
His forehead drops to mine, steady, unshakable. “Then don’t think. Don’t believe. Just let me hold you so you canfeelit. That’s all you need to do.”
I break. The words slip out before I can stop them, small and fragile. “…Can you? Just hold me?”
He doesn’t hesitate. “Of course I can.”
And he does. He pulls me into him, arms iron-strong, tucking me under his chin like I belong there, like there’s no question, no condition. His heartbeat is steady under my ear, his breathing calm where mine is ragged.
I want to argue, to fight, but his voice rumbles against my hair before I can. “You are everything, Caleb. Fucking everything to me. And I’ll say it every damn night if that’s what it takes.”
The lump in my throat nearly chokes me. “You make it sound so easy.”
“Because it is.” His hand rubs slow circles into my back, grounding me. “You talk, I listen. You break, and I hold you and put you back together. That’s it. That’s us.”
