The Fall Up (The Fall Up, #1)(38)

Her face was buried in the crook of my neck as she rambled a million miles a minute. “I have no idea what to do here. I like you, but you’re right. You can’t be with someone like me. And, more than that, you shouldn’t have to. Over the last week, I’ve been doing a lot better and finally feeling better than I have in years. But I don’t know if it will stay that way. What if I find my feet on that bridge again? ” She suddenly sat up. “I can’t put you in that position. Not after everything you’ve been through.” She rested her head back on my shoulder. “You’re amazing, Sam. I’m so f*cking sorry that you had to deal with all of that in your past, but I can’t ask you to potentially deal with my issues in the future. And it hurts because I lied. I more than like you. I hardly know you, but I want to keep you. Just the way you are. Maybe forever.”

A lump formed in my throat, and an unlikely smile tilted my lips. I’d learned early on that, no matter how I tried, I couldn’t fix everything for everyone. I couldn’t make my Dad better any more than I could Anne.

But I could fix this.

With a sigh, I whispered into the top of her hair, “Then do it.”

Her head popped up, confusion painting her tear-stained face.

“Levee, I’m not the one trying to leave. You’re right. This is going to be a struggle for me, but while I have no idea what issues you do have, I do know you’re not my dad or Anne.”

Framing her face with my hands, I pulled her in for a kiss. She was still visibly upset, but I couldn’t deny that the brief contact was more for me than it was for her.

“Levee, when Anne was a teen, she started exhibiting a lot of my father’s typical behaviors. My mom immediately hauled her into the doctor, begging for them to do something…and they did. She battled with what we thought was bipolar disorder for years, but when she was twenty, everything went downhill fast. She started hallucinating and flipping out over nothing. My mom and I did the best we could, but nothing seemed to help. At twenty-one, Anne was officially diagnosed with schizophrenia. I have no idea if that’s what my dad had too. After seeing Anne, it’s not exactly a stretch that he could have been misdiagnosed also.” My pulse slowed, and the truth I was prepared to admit ebbed any residual fear from my body. “But I do know that it’s not what you struggle with.”

Her eyes filled with tears all over again. “No. I don’t think it is, either. But that doesn’t change the fact that you deserve someone different than me. Someone better.” She climbed off my lap, but I no longer worried that she was going to bolt.

If she wanted space to think, I’d give her that.

Gnawing on her thumbnail, she began to pace. Then she stopped and turned to face me, her shoulders rolled forward in defeat. “You need someone you didn’t meet on the top of a bridge.”

But I didn’t give a single f*ck what Levee thought I needed.

I’d made my decision.

With all of my unease about pursuing something with her organized inside my mind, a familiar levity washed over me. Reclining back against the couch, I folded my hands behind my head and propped my feet on the table.

“You’re right,” I replied curtly, and her whole body sagged as she looked away. I smirked to myself. “The only problem, Levee, is I just want you.”

Her gaze snapped to mine, and her eyes were filled with a mixture of surprise and hope. As her chin fought to suppress a smile, it gave me hope as well.

I walked over and wrapped her in my arms. Then I repeated familiar words that were suddenly more fitting than ever. “I’m not perfect, and I’d like to pretend you aren’t, either.”

She dropped her head to my shoulder as her arms dangled at her sides.

I kissed her hair and whispered, “There isn’t a woman in the world who doesn’t have demons of some sort. No matter who I end up with, it’s always going to be a struggle.” I kissed her hair again, letting it linger as if my lips were able to transfer the truth of my words. “Levee, I’d like to struggle with you.”

That should have been my big finish, but she didn’t even acknowledge that she’d heard me. She stood impossibly still in my grasp. She wasn’t moving away, but she wasn’t returning my embrace either. I couldn’t see her face to get a read on her reaction, and after a few moments of silence, it began to unnerve me.

“I meant that in a good way,” I whispered, squeezing her tight.

She tipped her head back to look into my eyes and mumbled, “I’m going to need you to sign a release.”

“Huh?”

“I need you to sign a copyright release, because I’m using every single bit of that speech in a song. Jesus, Sam. ‘I’d like to struggle with you.’ I’m so freaking jealous that I didn’t write that.”

I smiled as she finally circled her arms around my neck. “You can have it. It’s not like I can use it again at this point.”

“I don’t know. You did a pretty nice job at recycling the ‘perfect’ thing.”

“I didn’t recycle—I repurposed,” I exaggerated with a wink.

She laughed then leaned her head back to my shoulder. “Sam, you have no idea what you’re getting into.”

“No one ever does. It’s the beauty of taking risks.”

“Oh my God,” she breathed. “I’ll need a release on that too.”