Worth the Fall(68)

She shifted and he settled her in closer, sliding his leg between hers, breathing her in, loving the satiny coolness of her hair against his cheek. Didn’t she know what she did to him?

He wanted to bind her to him so tightly she couldn’t see herself without him, yet every time he left she was without him. And he was terrified he would lose her for just that reason. Even as he told himself to go slowly, give her time to get used to the idea, the words slipped out again.

“I love you.”





Chapter 24


I love you.

He’d said it over and over. It was amazing and disconcerting, and…Abby couldn’t let herself forget that lots of people had said it. For a long time she even believed they’d meant it. But by the time she was ten she’d decided she wouldn’t love them back. Because things changed, people changed their minds. That was one of the few certainties in life.

Angie had said to give him a chance. Give herself a chance. But Abby’s past warned her against both.

Matt’s fingers moved in a featherlight touch over her hip, around her belly, and back. Repetitive and soothing. Constant.

He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Why does it scare you so much?”

He didn’t have to say it; she knew exactly what he meant. He’d looked at her, his heart in his eyes, holding nothing back, while she stood with the door to hers barely cracked, safety chain on, ready to slam it shut if she got too scared. But she wanted to give him something.

“My dad died in a car accident. I think I told you that. My mom died a year later. I was five. My third home was nice. A young couple who didn’t have any other children. They said they always wanted a little girl like me, even though I still cried every night for my mother. I was there almost a year, I think.” Looking back, she didn’t know why she’d thought it would be forever.

“What happened?”

“There was a job in China. They couldn’t take me. They were sorry.” Nice words that hadn’t eased an ounce of pain in a little girl’s heart.

“You know when people move and they can’t take their dog so they call around trying to find him a good home?” Matt made a small noise to show he was listening. “They did that. I heard them. ‘She’s really sweet and smart.’ I was even house-trained.” She tried to laugh.

“Abby—”

“No, it’s fine.” Stupid to cry now, though the memory was still so clear.

The bright August sun. The cracked driveway. Her face hot and stinging with tears. She begged them not to leave her, grabbing on to the woman with the long soft hair like her mother’s until the social worker pulled her away with rough hands and cutting nails. Even more cutting were the lady’s tearful words. We love you, Abby. We’re sorry.

Then why are you leaving me?

“They took the dog.” Her voice broke. “All the way to China.”

His body tightened around hers, like he could protect her somehow, even from the past. But he couldn’t.

“Kind of funny, if you think about it. He was really cute. White and fluffy.” She left out how she’d broken away and chased their car. How she’d run as fast and far as she could go, only stopping when she fell on the gravelly road. Then the car turned the corner and they were gone. And she’d felt lost…insignificant.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t feel sorry for me.”

“No. You’re too strong for that.”

“There were others. Some I remember well, some I don’t.” But she did remember that she’d tried way too hard and believed way too long that things would be different. That next time it would last. “You learned and it got easier.”

“What did you learn, baby?”

His words were just a whisper and so were hers. “Not to get attached. Not to want anyone. You tell yourself it won’t last, so when it ends you won’t be surprised.” You leave them before they leave you, even if it’s only in your mind, because that’s all a child can do.

It had taken a few more times of settling in, then waking up one day to find that she wasn’t wanted after all, for her to learn the lessons she needed to survive. To make the rule not to care.

Yet here she was with Matt’s arms around her, her back to his front, and once again she’d told him things she’d never told anyone else. It felt right somehow, safe.

And in every way too good to be true.

—

Matt knelt in front of the swing. Annie stared back at him through hazel eyes, the green and gold flecks glistening with tears. He watched her battle not to let even one tear fall. She’d opened up in the last two days. Played with him. Talked to him. He’d lose ground, but he’d work hard to make it up.