Pieces of Us (Confessions of the Heart, #3)(79)

“Pppromise?” he mimicked, his blue eyes wise and aware.

Maxon dipped down and pressed a kiss to his forehead. “I promise.”

He seemed reluctant to stand up, but he finally did, stepping back and shutting the door.

The light dimmed within, leaving us in the shadowy darkness out in front of his house, the light from the porch barely making it this distance.

I swallowed around a lump the size of a grapefruit that had taken up residence in my throat. A chaotic disorder of what I wanted and what I knew would be so reckless to give in to.

“Thank you so much for dinner,” I managed. “It was wonderful. The boys had so much fun. I’m sure my mama and daddy were happy for the break from the noise, too.”

There I went, assigning this a different meaning.

But it felt so much safer than taking on the meaning that was roiling through Maxon’s expression.

“I’ll see you later,” I said, floundering around for the doorlatch.

Needing an escape.

But there was no escaping the impact of his words that hit me from behind. “Could you see it, Izzy? Us doing this? Every day?”

I whirled back around, and my back hit the door. I was sure it was the only thing that was keeping me standing.

And there it was.

That fork in the road.

A decision to be made.

He was so beautiful, staring back at me, his shoulders heaving with the exertion I could see him using to keep himself standing there.

From not surging forward.

Taking me the way we both knew I wanted to be taken.

I blinked at him, moisture hazing my sight, my heart lumbering with the savage force of the memories that broke free.

The question that remained.

My own fears this man had etched on me.

Scars that screamed.

“I don’t know, Maxon. I don’t know what to make of any of this. You’re movin’ so fast, and I’m not even sure what you want from me.”

He surged forward, body eclipsing me in shadow. “I want you. Want you more than anything I’ve ever wanted before. I want to tell Benjamin I’m his father. Ask Dillon if I can be his, too. Want a family.”

His throat bobbed with turmoil. “A family, Izzy Baby. Never had one before. And the only person I have wanted that with is you.”

It was crazy how he was speaking the exact words I’d spent years dreaming of hearing.

Verbatim.

The man a match to my soul.

But that’s what it’d been—a dream.

And my soul had spent thirteen years achin’. Achin’ with torment. Misery meted at his hand.

I struggled for a breath. Struggled to find reason. To make sense of the chaos of what I was feeling.

Words started pouring free.

“I loved you, Maxon. I loved you with every part of me. With every breath. With every heartbeat. I did since I was a little girl. And you shattered that in a way I don’t know can ever be repaired.”

I clutched my hands over my chest, voice cracking with the confession. “I’m terrified to believe in what you’d refused to believe in. Terrified of feeling all those things again. I don’t think you understand all that I’ve been through. What it feels like to be alone. Scared. But I did it . . . I did it because I had to. For my boys.”

I glanced at them and cringed when I found their attention locked on the shadow of us.

I prayed they couldn’t hear what I was saying, but I turned back to Maxon, anyway, opened up, spilling my guts all over the ground.

“I don’t know if I can afford to put myself in that position again. Not when their hearts are on the line, too. Not when I’m not sure that you fully understand what love is. And loving you when you don’t love me back? That’s the worst place I’ve ever been, and I can’t condemn myself to that kind of hell again.”

He looked like I’d struck him.

His body bowed.

Stricken.

I took the opportunity to jump into my car, fingers fumbling as I turned over the ignition, desperate to get away.

A sharp turn left.

Veering off this collision course.

Fleeing the flames.

Knowing I had no chance of outrunning them anyway.





Twenty-Four





Mack





Seventeen Years Old





Music thumped against the walls, and the entire house vibrated with a dark, greedy energy.

Voices were elevated, pitched to be heard above the din, a throbbing crowd that chased ecstasy.

Tossing back shots and lining their noses with whatever they’d managed to score.

Like they could stand a chance of flying away from this depressing reality.

The loudest of the crowd was by the sink in the kitchen, a ring of morons chanting, “Chug, chug, chug,” as they did keg stands, cheering in pride like they’d brought home a gold medal.

Sitting at the round table at the back, Mack kept his voice low, his focus turned toward Ian who sat sideways on his chair facing him, angling his ear Mack’s direction.

“A thousand bucks, man. Your only job is to drive those parts across state lines and not get pulled over.”

Mack tried to ignore the bitch who straddled him, wanting to get up close and personal with his dick, Clarissa thinking this was her damn business, too.