same way. This life isn’t so lonely and isolating when you’re by my side telling me I don’t need to give in to what everyone expects of me. You make me feel safe. You give me … everything. But you don’t let me in.”
“Harley …”
I can’t look at him. “When I thought you could’ve been fired today, I was devastated, but I assumed if given the choice, you’d choose your job. You need the money, and I have no other reason to believe you’re in this for me.”
Brix is amazing at making me realize my worth and validity, but today I realized something else: I might not be enough for him.
“I need something, Brix.”
“I’m used to being on my own.” His words are mumbled and soft. “I don’t know how to do”—he waves his finger between us—“this.”
“I’ve already been in a relationship where I kept taking and taking, and I can’t do it again. I can’t lose another person I care about because I’m too selfish to see past what they need. But I can’t give you what you need when you won’t even let me know the true you. Deep scars, secrets, and all.”
“I need you. That’s what I need.”
“But I—”
“Don’t you get it? When you smile at me—truly smile—it’s the biggest accomplishment I could ever achieve. I went into this job thinking it would be an easy six months, a big paycheck, but that it’d be boring as hell. I had no idea I’d meet someone who not only asks for my opinion but appreciates it. You give me a sense of purpose—”
“How romantic,” I say dryly. “I need you to make me feel good about myself so you can feel good about yourself. That’s fucked-up and codependent.”
“It’s not codependent. And what we have is not fucked-up. We’re two guys from completely different upbringings, completely different lives, yet we see something in each other that no one else does. You think you’re shallow and that there’s nothing behind the pop star and the manufactured persona the label gave you, but when I look at you, I see someone who wants to be appreciated. Who wants validation and respect. I see someone who’s begging to be loved.”
My cheeks heat. This man, he knows how to read me so well. He can see past the PR bullshit. But he never lets me see him.
“You see that in me, but that’s the thing. I let you see it. I let you in on my true self. I have no idea who you are. Not deep down.”
“I’m an adrenaline junkie who’s quickly realizing there’s more to life than explosives and gunfire. Because of you. You’ve spent almost half your life being someone else, and I don’t think you know who the real Harley Valentine is anymore. But I see him. I see him in the way you’re still polite to your fans even when they’re pushy and invasive and could potentially give you the flu. I see him in the way you want to protect Evah with all your heart even though you were never truly together. You forgave your manager, no questions asked, when he crossed a massive line. You’re civil with your ex even though I can tell you were really hurt. You’re the man I love to make smile. The man who gives me a sense of home. Of somewhere to belong. You dim the need for action and adrenaline that buzzes in my veins. You make me believe there’s something out there for me besides working for Mike Bravo. I’ve never had that before.”
“Why not?”
Brix thinks about that for a long time.
“Why not?” I ask again.
He folds his arms. “You know why a lot of people join the military?”
“To serve their country?”
“We sign away our lives. They give us what we need in exchange for willingly sacrificing ourselves in the line of duty. I’m sure there are a lot of people who do it because of their patriotic hearts, but for the majority of us, we do it because we don’t have any other choice. We can’t afford college. We want to get out of a no-hope town. Some of us do it because military life is all we’ve known growing up as army brats. I signed up for a lot of those reasons but also because I had this constant need for an adrenaline high. I never once felt a sense of purpose … until I started working for you. This job, protecting you, it’s as if