Page 11 of Easy To Lose

But the minute I see her face, everything changes. The tear stains that streak down her cheeks, the puffiness around her eyes, and the sadness that radiates off her entire body makes me jump from where I stand and open the front door.

“Morgan? Are you okay?” She startles, holding a hand to her chest.

“Fucking hell, you scared the crap out of me.” She wipes away a stray tear from her cheek as I make my way over to her. “I didn’t think you’d be here this late,” she murmurs as I get closer and fight the urge to pull her to me.

“What happened?” My voice is calm, but in reality, all I want to do is rip open whoever made her feel this way.

“It’s nothing. It’s not important.” Fuck that.

“Don’t tell me that seeing you get out of a cab at your place of business, crying, looking like you just came back from a date isn’t important. What happened?” Her shoulders fall, her chin dropping to her chest as her whole body starts to shake. It takes me all of three seconds to realize that she’s crying, and I lose the fight. I wrap my arms around her and bring her against my chest.

Fuck, it feels amazing to have her against me.

“Baby, please. Tell me what happened.” She stiffens in my hold. Then, all of a sudden, she pushes me away. I stagger back. “Morgan?”

“You do not get to call me baby. Not after everything,” she croaks, and my heart sinks a little. I knew telling her that I loved her was a long shot, but I didn’t expect her to hate me even more than she did before.

The tears start to fall once more, and when I take a step toward her again, she backs away. So, I hold my hand up and retreat a small step.

“M, I just want to make sure you’re okay, that’s all.” She shakes her head and turns around, heading for the shop’s front door. “Please, just tell me. Did someone hurt you?” My mind is going to the darkest places at this point. I want her to tell me that I don’t need to go and kill someone tonight.

“Hurt me?” she says with a scornful laugh. “You mean like when you’re on a blind date, and that person uses the entire dinner to comment on how fat you are? Or when you didn’t want to go on said date at all because you knew you weren’t ready, yet do it anyway and hope for the best, only to be scolded for wanting dessert?” What the actual fuck? Who was this guy?

“Morgan, you know that’s not true, right? That guy’s an asshole.” She starts shaking her head, and this time the tears cut me so deeply that I refuse to stay where I am. I wrap my arms around her once more. Thankfully, she comes willingly.

“It is true…” she mumbles into my shirt, but instead of making her explain, I pull her closer, basking in the feel of her in my arms.

“Morgan. You are not fat, and anyone who tells you differently doesn’t know what’s in front of them.” I know she doesn’t believe me, and I know from experience that it takes more than one or two nice comments to make someone realize that the person they see in the mirror isn’t the one everyone else sees.

“What if you helped?” Her voice is small, and I barely hear her as her breath cascades over my skin. It takes everything in me not to fantasize about what those lips would feel like skimming the side of my neck. “What if you trained me…?” The hopeful tone of her voice leads me to believe that she thinks I’ll be able to change everything she hates about herself, when in reality, I do the opposite. I try to get my clients to accept the person on the outside and begin to love the person on the inside. But right now, I know that’s not what she wants to hear.

“You want me to train you?” I clarify as she steps away, her eyes pleading with me to accept. “Are you sure that’s what you want? I don’t want you to change yourself because someone else told you to. That’s not how this works.” I really want to say that no matter what she thinks of herself, nothing she does will ever change the way I feel about her. But I don’t. I know that what I said to her yesterday freaked her out, and I saw the look she gave me as she walked away and again this morning when she ignored me.

“Owen, I know you’re all about making women feel good about themselves. And that’s great. But right now, you need to see the desperate woman begging for your help. I know I need to love myself, but right now, I can’t see past the hateful comments Marshall hurled at me tonight. I need you to help me. Please.” Fuck, I can’t say no to that. It’s impossible.

“Fine,” I relent. The smile that crosses her face takes away all the doubt I processed. Because right now? Right now, she looks like the girl I fell in love with all those years ago, the one that loved puzzles, hated pineapple on pizza, and wanted nothing more than to be a fashion designer. “But I want you to understand something. Just because I agree to train you doesn’t mean I’m going to be any different to you than I am to my other clients. That means you will follow my every instruction. You will trust my judgment. And the most important one of all, you will be patient.”

Her eyes narrow in confusion. “Be patient? What does that have to do with anything?” she asks as I give her a small smile.

“I need you to be patient because there will come a time in the next few weeks where you’ll be discouraged, and I need you to remember that this is a marathon not a race.” She rolls her eyes at the cliché, and I chuckle because most of my clients hate that saying. But the reason I use it is because it’s true.

“That is the worst way to motivate someone,” she says, smiling. For a second, I just bask in it. “So, what you’re telling me is that I need to trust you?” I nod. “Then, fine. But I reserve the right to have one meltdown a month, okay?” I laugh because if I get to spend the next few months this close to her, I’ll take whatever she can give me.

“Are you sure you want this? It won’t be easy,” I admit, but she just nods her head and leans in, kissing me on the cheek.

My heart stops when her lips meet my skin, and from the way her body locks in place, I think she feels it, too.

“Let me drive you home,” I say, not wanting her to be alone out here in the dark. When she nods, I lock up the shop and lead her to my truck. Once inside, we fall into silence as I drive her home, only speaking when she tells me where to turn. All too soon, we arrive at her place, and I turn to look at her.

“You work tomorrow?” I ask. She nods her head. “Do you want to start training then?”

“Sure, but I close tomorrow so I won’t be done until after eight.” I give her a small smile and place my hand on hers, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine as it sends waves of desire coursing through me. I know if I don’t let her go right now, I will spill my guts and freak her out.

“Doesn’t bother me. Come to the gym after you’re done. I’ll be waiting.” She smiles, then opens her door and gets out. Before she walks up her driveway, she turns and looks back at me.

“Thank you, Owen, I really appreciate it.” I give her one last smile as she heads up to her door and goes inside. I wait for her to look back, but she doesn’t. My feelings may be one-sided right now, but I have to try and win her over. When she’s safely in the house, I lean back and smile. Tonight showed me a lot of things. But most importantly, it revealed that baby steps are the way to show Morgan the amazing woman she is—the gorgeous female I see.

And when the day finally comes, and she realizes exactly that, I vow to make her feel that way for the rest of her life.

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