me up.” He licks his lips. I swear he doesn’t mean anything by it, but my mind is already on a deep dive into the gutter.
“Did you get hurt during my…um… The operation?” I refuse to mention my rescue. I’m still pissed at him, and I’m not ready to acknowledge the gratitude he deserves for saving my ass for the second time.
“If you mean did I injure it while rescuing you, the answer is no.”
“Then how?”
“Let’s not talk about that. I want to know how you’re holding up.” He looks at me with tenderness, which is a frightening expression on his gruff face.
Griff leans close, this time I’m not imagining it, and cups my cheek. His thumb rubs softly back and forth along my jawline as he presses closer, staring deep into my eyes. He’s good at that, using his penetrating gaze to crawl inside my head.
I gulp as his breaths deepen, and I may be breathing a bit hard as well.
“I’m worried about you, little minx.” Griff trades out his menacing scowl for true concern.
“Don’t be. I’m pretty tough.”
“Didn’t say you weren’t, but even steel breaks when pushed beyond its breaking point.” He licks his lips, and I squirm in my seat.
“I’m fine.”
“Let me tell you about the oak tree and the willow.”
“Huh?”
His eyes gleam as he continues to delve inside my troubled depths.
“Just listen. The oak tree is a proud tree, standing strong, it lifts its limbs high to the sky. It towers over other trees, soaking in the light, growing bigger and stronger every day. It protects those beneath it, provides shade and shelter. It’s resistant to fire, drought, and pests. It doesn’t give in to the storms when they blow through.”
It’s like he’s describing me. How many storms have I endured? And I’m still standing. I’m the mighty oak. It’s kind of funny, but scary too.
“In contrast, the willow’s roots spread wide, forming a solid foundation. Instead of lifting its limbs to the sky, it lets them droop toward the ground, not strong enough to hold them up like the mighty oak. The lightest breeze strips its leaves from its limbs and tears away its branches.”
“What’s your point?”
“Which tree is more resilient? Is it the oak, or the willow?”
“That’s stupid. It’s the oak, obviously.” Why is he talking about trees? All I see are his kissable lips, the ones he refuses to lay on me.
His eyes pinch as if he’s ready to dispense great wisdom on me.
“The oak weathers most storms well, making it through them relatively intact.”
“Right, and the willow gets stripped bare. I want to be the oak.”
“And yet, when a really bad tempest blows through, it’s the oak that splinters and cracks, too stubborn to bend when it needs to most. The oak’s strength is its greatest fault.”
“No, you said it stands tall. It doesn’t bend.”
“Exactly, it doesn’t know what the willow knows.”
“And what’s that?”
“That in order to endure the worst the world has to offer, sometimes you need to bend. You need to embrace your weakness to survive. You need to let the wind rip away the parts of you that you don’t need, and bend beneath its fury. The oak is too proud and too strong. It stands tall in the face of adversity until it either snaps and dies, or the storm moves on. Most people think the oak is the stronger tree, when in fact, it’s the willow who knows that to survive adversity, it must bend.”
“But it gets the shit kicked out of it. You said it loses all its leaves and branches.”
“True, but it survives. The oak does not. A firm foundation, and the willingness to bend when required, is the greatest strength you can have.”
“What does any of that have to do with me? Why are you talking stupid tree metaphors?”
“Because, I’m worried you’re following the path of the oak, holding fast when you should bend.”
“You want me to bend?”
“Not literally, but I want you to open up and let someone in. There’s no shame in admitting weakness, from time to time, or that you need a little help.”
“Someone? Like some random stranger?”
“No, Moira. Me.”
“You?” Both my brows lift in surprise.
“Yes. I want you to let me in. Let me carry the weight for you.”
“Carry the weight?”
“Yes.”
“Because I’m a victim? I can’t possibly have endured what I have and come out the other side with my shit intact? I need you to carry me?”
“Everybody needs someone. I want to be that someone for you.”
“Because I’m a