Page 127 of Honeymoon Phase
I am clearly not thinking straight.
I am not equipped for that life. No child should be subjected to the likes of me and my baggage. I’m too much to handle. I’m overreactive and emotional and clearly incompetent in relationships. Which is why Luke didn’t trust me to open my heart to him. And I’m obviously incompetent in business too because my dad doesn’t trust me to inherit the lumberyard.
I’m a mess!
It’s no wonder my mother left us after prison. I’d probably leave me too.
It’s nearly 4 a.m. by the time I force myself to go lie in the spare bed. I hate that it doesn’t smell like Luke. I hate that he taught me what a good night of sleep felt like because now I’m conditioned to need it. Before him, I was fine only getting a few hours of sleep at night. Now I feel literally ill when I can’t get my brain to shut off.
With a frustrated growl, I do something really fucking bad. I grab my phone and fire off a text.
Luke
I stare at the barn ceiling from my place on the sofa, my mind spinning with the events of the past several hours. How I let it go this far without just telling Addison how I felt is something I need to really reflect on. My brothers tried to talk to me after we retreated like whipped puppies to the barn, but I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t need a pep talk from them. Or Everly. Or anyone. I know where my fear comes from. It’s a fear that has lived in me for the past three years.
To hold someone in their last moments on this earth and not be able to save them is a fucking sobering experience. The death of my father changed me and unfortunately, I’m experiencing the consequences of that change now.
Will I ever be able to let someone fully in without fear that I’ll never be enough for them? That I’ll ever have the ability to keep them alive if something terrible happens? Maybe that’s why I never made a move on Roe after I started developing feelings for her. It wasn’t just a silly anti-relationship pact I had with my brothers. I’m fucking terrified to fall in love and thenlose someone. Roe’s question about how we keep loving the other struck a chord. She’s easy to love, and I’ll probably love her for the rest of my life. But clearly, it’s not enough for her. She doesn’t want me in my fucked-up, manipulative state.
I glance over at my brothers, who are passed out on the bed that still sits up here since Trista moved out. The apartment above the barn has become a bit of a dumping ground the past few months, but at least we have a place to crash for the night.
Not that I’m getting any sleep anyways.
My phone buzzes from the end table beside me and I inhale sharply, my heart pounding in my chest when I pick it up and see three words from Roe.
I need you.
I type back a quick response, letting her know I’m on my way and jump off the couch to stuff my feet back into my boots, abandoning my snoring brothers as I run my fucking ass out of the barn and up the hill. I’ve been texting her all night with no replies, staring out the window and seeing the lights on in our place. My pulse races with every step that brings me closer to her. My wife. My best friend. Please let this be a good sign.
As I walk up to my front porch, the smell of sourdough hits me, and I spot Addison through the window pacing in the kitchen. A fresh loaf of bread is cooling on a rack and she’s chewing her nails, looking completely exhausted.
I hesitate to walk in, not knowing if I should, so I lift my hand and knock, holding my breath as I prepare myself to see her face-to-face again.
When she opens the door, the minute her eyes lift to mine, her face twists in pain as she covers her face and starts to cry.
“Fuck,” I growl and move toward her to take her in my arms, but she presses her hands to my chest and stops me.
“I don’t want to be touched,” she says firmly, wiping at her running nose.
“Okay.” My hands flex at my sides as I fight every urge in my body to comfort my wife. I’ve never seen her like this and it’s gutting me.
“I can’t sleep,” she croaks, looking so young and innocent.
“Me neither,” I offer because I don’t know what else to say.
She nods woodenly, wiping the tears out of her eyes. “We’re going to lie in your bed and we’re not going to touch. We’re just going to sleep. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring yet. I haven’t decided. But I need to sleep and damn you, Fletcher, I can’t do it without you anymore.”
I wince, fighting back my own tears because it’s maybe the best thing I’ve ever heard in my life. I want her to need me the way I need her, but I know she hates me for it all the same.
I follow her to the bedroom, and we crawl under the covers fully clothed. I lie on my side facing her, stupidly hoping she’ll curl into me, but she doesn’t. She lies on her side facing away from me, the silvery moon illuminating her body in a way that stabs straight through my heart. It’s weird not touching her.
We lie silently for a moment before she asks, “When did you know you were in love with me? Like truly know?”
“I think it was after my dad died,” I answer with a heavy sigh. “When I couldn’t hold your hand or get a hug from the one person I wanted one the most from. When I forgave you for not showing up and we started hanging out again, I realized that’s what love is. It’s tolerating things you might not like from someone you care about because you know their essence. You know them at their best and their worst and you love them through it.”
She sniffs loudly and I feel the bed shake so I shift closer, my hand hovering over her frame, wanting so much to pull her into my arms, but I stop myself.
“I’m terrified that loving you could ruin me,” she croaks, her voice thick with emotion.
