Page 175 of Dear #47, You're the Worst
When we come, it’s loud, messy, uncoordinated, like everything else about us. Afterward, we’re both breathing so hard it sounds like we’ve run a marathon. Damn. I really need to hit the gym for more HIIT cardio biking.
I roll off her and pull her tight to my chest, not willing to lose that contact, not even for a second. Her skin is damp, her hair tangled, and she’s still shaking. I brush a strand of her hair off her forehead and she wraps her arm around me, clinging to me like I’m the only thing strong enough to keep her grounded.
“Hunter.” Her lips move against my neck.
“Yeah?”
There’s a pause. “I do trust you. It’s just scary.”
“I know. It’s scary for me too.”
“What if we mess this up?”
“Then we mess it up together.”
She laughs softly. “That’s not very reassuring.”
“It’s the truth, though. We’re both fucked up, Juliet. But maybe we’re fucked up in ways that fit together.”
“Like broken pieces that make something whole?”
“Something like that.”
For the first time in weeks, the knot in my chest has loosened. Not gone, but manageable.
“Hunter?”
“Mmm?”
“Did you have a bonfire while I was at work? I saw the ashes on the patio.”
“Ah.” My shoulders sag. “My mom sent you another package.”
Juliet looks up at me, concern filling her eyes. “Are you okay?”
“Am I okay?” I let out a humorless laugh. “I’m not the one being stalked by my future husband’s psychotic mother.”
Her eyes widen. “Is that what you are? My future husband?”
“There’s no rush,” I assure her. “But eventually? Yes. For now, I’m more worried about you being harassed by my mother.”
“It’s not that serious.” Her arms slip around my neck. “I know you’d protect me from anything if you had a choice.”
Her belief in me is something I don’t know if I deserve. But I will hold it close. For the first time, I let myself hope that maybe I am enough for her. Maybe this thing between us is strong enough to survive all the damage we both carry.
“We’re going to be okay,” she says.
For the first time, I think she might be right.
Chapter40
Juliet
Iwake up to my phone buzzing like an angry wasp. Notification after notification, text messages, missed calls. I rub my eyes blearily. That kind of digital chaos means somethingbadhas happened.
I sit up, glancing over to find that Hux is gone. I’m not sure when we started spending the night in the same bed, but the emptiness of what should be his space is eerie. Grabbing my phone, I blink several times.
The first thing I see when I unlock my screen makes my stomach drop to my feet.
