Rocked (The Everyday Heroes World) - Julia Wolf Page 0,103

ordered pancakes. Devon’s eyes stayed on me, roaming freely over each of my features. He’d never looked at me like this. I wasn’t sure anyone had.

Well…that wasn’t true. I knew for a fact no one had ever looked at me with such adoration broadcasting clear from their entire being. It wasn’t something I was entirely capable of handling.

“Do you want to tell me what you and Michaela talked about?” I asked.

“You. A lot about you. She really liked you. Said you were protective of me.” He cocked his head, like he didn’t quite believe it.

“I guess I was that day. Being a protector is sort of my thing.”

He nodded. “You’re a caregiver. It’s who you are, intrinsically. I don’t think you like to let anyone take care of you, though.”

“Maybe not. The people who were supposed to take care of me let me down a long time ago.”

His gaze was steady, intense on mine. “I won’t let you down, Kat.”

“You did, though. If you would have just said goodbye, it would have hurt less. But to go from what we were to wanting ‘loose and casual’ every couple months…god, Devon. It made me feel crazy. Like I’d been letting you inside me, which isn’t at all easy for me, and you were just out for some laughs.”

He leaned forward, his elbows on the table. His mouth opened, like he had something to say, but he shook his head. Then he got up, moved around the table, and slid in beside me. His hands cupped my face, and his lips touched mine in the most gentle kiss of my life.

“Kat, you are impossible to read. Your walls are almost opaque. I wanted to keep you. Damn, did I want to keep you. But if I told you that, I thought you’d tell me to go fuck myself. So instead, I went in the opposite direction, asking for the bare minimum. Until I talked to Michaela, I really thought you wanted me gone, period. That you didn’t want anything more from me.” His hands slid into my hair. “I haven’t liked myself for a long, long time. The only time I’ve felt like a worthy human was on stage. Then I met you, and you brought out the good in me. But what do I give you? Not much that I can see.”

He melted me. My chest was filled with a hot, liquified heart.

“You made me laugh and want more,” I said. “Once, you told me the way I see my scars is different than how you see them because you don’t have the baggage that comes along with them. It’s the same for how I see you. I only know you now—the man who is patient and kind to my daughter, who wrote a song with her and acted as her backup. The guy who visited me at work and brought me allergy-free food. Who danced to Prince records with me and hired hair and makeup people for me. The guy who wasn’t scared to climb a boulder and fall down a few times.” I brought my hand up to his scruffy cheek. “I know you’ve been a bad guy and have hurt people. I know that. I’m not blind to it. But it’s not what I see when I look at you, just as my scars aren't what you see. You notice them, they’re part of me, but they’re not the entirety of who I am.”

He sucked in a deep breath, his eyes steady on mine. “What are you saying?”

What was I saying? I was scared, that much I knew. Devon had been thinking about this moment for a week while I’d been pushing him from my mind for just as long.

“I honestly don’t know yet. But I won’t hear you saying you’re unworthy, because it isn’t true. You have paid your penance, and that Michaela was willing to let you hold her daughter and be there when you needed her should speak loudly of how far you’ve come. If she’s forgiven you, then maybe you don’t have to continue wearing your fuck-ups around your neck like a yoke.”

He touched his lips to mine again, and I leaned into the contact. It was bare and soft, just a press of skin to skin, but it felt important.

Steaming plates of pancakes were placed in front of us, breaking us apart, but not far. Devon ate one-handed, his other resting on my thigh.

“Bertha is some kind of witch. Pancakes like this don’t