Page 95 of Pieces of Heaven

“I’m ready now.”

“You don’t want to be at the Pigsty.”

Riled up again, Hobo mutters, “They’re going to make you see me different.”

Studying this powerful yet frightened man, I don’t know how to get him out of his head and back to me.

“Are you under the misguided impression I’m not aware you can be a jerk?” I ask, and I swear he pouts. “You’ve been rude and cold. You must have known I liked you right from the start, but you made me wait around like a fool. I know you’re prickly and set in your ways. Just like you know I’m weak and plan too much when I should just let things be. I feel like we started off our relationship with a very clear view of each other.”

Hobo looks around before settling his gaze on me. “I like everything about you. Even when you talk about shit that’s gibberish to me, I still think you’re perfect.”

His words soothe my bruised heart. “On our first real normal date, you took me out for shitty barbecue and a boring movie. Do you think I cared? I was there for you, not the ambiance. I came to the Pigsty, thinking this place might be gross and sticky.”

When Hobo smirks at that last word, I take advantage of his softening mood to step closer.

“I just want you. I don’t care if my feelings seem pathetic to others. Wanting you makes me happy. Even when you act put out by my presence, I’ll patiently wait for you to like me again.”

“I always like you,” Hobo whispers and looks around like the world is the enemy. “That’s why it’s going to hurt so much when someone takes you from me.”

“No.”

Hobo exhales hard. “I’ve only had a few truly beautiful things in my life, and they were always taken away.”

“No. I’m staying.”

“Kourtney will ruin things.”

“Not between us.”

“The guys will tell you something embarrassing about me.”

“I told you lots of embarrassing stuff that day I followed you.”

Hobo squats down and exhales deeply. “When you were my private thing, I felt like I could keep us safe. Now, everyone is looking at you and talking to you. What we have feels doomed.”

Kneeling next to him, I wrap my arms around his shoulders. “One day, we’ll have your friends over to our house. We might have a kid and do playdates. We’ll become two parts of the same person like how those women today are with their men. It’ll be Hobo and Xenia, two peas in a pod. There’ll be nothing remarkable about seeing us together. We just have to get over the awkward early stuff.”

Hobo plops down on the ground and tugs me into his lap. We’re positioned just like that first day when I finally asked for what I wanted.

His fingers brush across my cheek. “When we’re together like right now,” Hobo says in a quiet voice, “I can almost see the home we’re going to build. I can even imagine a tiny person we make together. It feels close enough to touch. Then, I get around other people who know me. I see myself through their eyes, and that guy isn’t building a house or having a kid. He won’t even keep his pretty lady with her cupcakes and soft gray eyes.”

His words break my heart. I can barely breathe when I hear how he sees himself.

Wrapping my fingers around his hand touching my face, I whisper, “There was a time not long after I got here that I hated myself. Not my parents for lying or my siblings for taking what they hadn’t earned. I just hated me for every day I wasted with only failed dreams to show for my efforts. That woman didn’t deserve anything. Not a fresh start. Certainly not love. I put those feelings away deep inside me and tried to focus on my goals. As if I could mark off enough things from a checklist to make up for the time I wasted. But deep down, I knew I’d ruined my life, and I didn’t see any point in caring about the future.”

Hobo’s blue eyes fill with worry and understanding.

“I know my love can’t erase your past or pain,” I continue as I stroke his busted knuckles. “Your love can’t fix a lifetime of my bad decisions. I’m not naïve, yet I believe we can be happy together.”

Considering my words, he shakes his head. “Hobo is the guy who hides well and spies on people. He’s the guy you call to break someone’s bones. He’s also the guy who goes away when you’re done with him. I don’t know if I can be anyone else.”

“You’re already more than that Hobo. The man you describe wouldn’t have slept over at my tiny house. He wouldn’t have brought me flowers or taken me to see the turtles. My Hobo is useful for more than spying and fighting. He makes me laugh and feel beautiful. He can be soft and sweet. The Hobo I know is complicated.”

Grinning under my praise, Hobo mumbles, “That guy sounds like a catch.”

“That’s exactly why I have no intention of letting him go.”

Hobo breathes easier now. He still looks rundown as if he’s been carrying around a weight on his shoulders for too long.

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