whoever had hurt her when a single tear appeared at the corner of her eye and slid down her cheek. “Because of me, Jaime. I’m so messed up inside.”
The pain in that statement made his eyes sting. “No, you’re not,” he argued. “You’re wonderful and perfect and—”
Fingers on his lips, silencing his words.
“I am messed up,” she said firmly, pressing harder when he sucked in a breath, prepared to disagree with her further. This woman meant more to him after a week than any woman had ever meant, his family aside. And he didn’t want to kiss and touch and hold his mom or his sisters. He also certainly didn’t want to sleep with them—shudder. Her next words took any of the light in his mind and smashed it to bits. “I’m so fucking broken and ruined and—”
She broke off on a sob, and he held her tight, mind spinning.
Her words aside, he’d thought of little else except for Kate for months now. First, imagining how he might get a shot with her, and now thinking of all the ways to keep her now that he finally got that chance.
And he’d be the first to admit that he clearly didn’t know everything about her.
But he knew enough.
The biggest and most important piece of that enough was the fact that she wasn’t messed up or ruined or broken.
Maybe she’d been hurt. Maybe she was scared. But that was normal.
He had his own fair share of old hurts and pain. “If I said I was damaged inside, if I had too much baggage inside to be in a relationship, what would you say?”
She glanced up, those pretty whiskey eyes damp, but her tone was impassioned.
“You are wonderful, Jaime,” she said, straightening and gripping his shoulders. “You’ve been absolutely kind and amazing this week. So understanding. I feel so lucky that you didn’t blow me off and—”
He closed the distance between their lips, pressing a short, firm kiss to her mouth.
When he pulled back, he asked, “Can’t you see that I feel the same?”
She bit down on her bottom lip then sighed. “My best friend told me last night that I have walls up and that I give a lot in relationships, that I make such an effort to take care of my family and friends so I can control my relationships, so I can keep distance between myself and the people I love.” She swallowed hard. “So I don’t have to open myself up, don’t have to take their kindness and risk letting them in. I stayed up all night, wanting to pretend I had no clue what she was talking about. To be mad and angry that she would even suggest something so asinine.” Her eyes, dry now, drifted to his. “Then I realized she was right.”
He held her a little closer, slid his hand up and down her back, tracing lightly, not wanting to interrupt, but also wanting her to know that he was there, that he was listening.
“It’s safer to be the one that’s giving more sometimes because then you don’t have to be open to taking. Ugh! I’m doing the worst job of explaining what seemed so clear when Heidi said it.” She groaned, pushed against his chest, and he released her, leaning back against the pillar as she got up and paced the porch. “It makes sense in my head, I guess. It’s one thing to make yourself a martyr for other people, to give and give until there’s nothing else and then everyone can say, oh, that Kate is so wonderful and generous.” She tucked her hair behind her ear. “But what they don’t realize is that the giving has the power. I’ve spent so many of my relationships being the caretaker, planning all the things, making sure the person I was seeing had everything he needed, that I then didn’t have to make room in my life for someone to look beneath the veneer. There was such a flurry of caring, of giving, of being in charge that I didn’t ever have to be vulnerable to them.” She sighed. “And because I was the one in control, it was easy for me to step back, to cut ties, to say they weren’t giving me what I needed.” Her eyes came to his. “Even if I never so much as gave them a chance to take care of me.”
Jaime shoved to his feet, understanding now. She wouldn’t make it easy to care for her, would push