Page 167 of So This Is War
He chuckles. “Fucking positive. Because if you haven’t noticed, you’re my fucking dream. Everything about you. I like your spunk and your attitude. I love your hair and your eyes, your fucking body. I love that you tell me what you want, when you want it. And I love how free you are, how open you are to new things. I’ve never truly been with someone before, someoneI want in my bed, someone I want to wake up next to, and that should freak me out, but it doesn’t because this feels right.”
“It does,” I say. “And that freaks me out.”
He laughs, pulling me down on the bed with him. After turning out the light, he tugs me in close so I’m resting on his chest with his arm wrapped around me and his hand resting on my hip. My God, this feels nice. Given that Dad wasn’t particularly tactile or demonstrative growing up, I often craved affection. And it looks like Levi Posey is a cuddler.
“Do you know what freaks me out?” he asks, the rumble of his chest right beneath my ear.
“What?” I ask as I rest my hand on his stomach.
“The fact that you like bologna. I’ve never met another person who likes bologna.”
I chuckle softly. “I’m starting to think you have a real bologna problem.”
“Babe, you should have realized that from day one.”
“Apparently. Well, maybe our first date can be a picnic with bologna sandwiches.”
“Don’t tease me because that seems like the ultimate date.”
I relax into his hold, loving how he can make me feel at ease, especially when all of this is sort of crazy and up in the air.
“Are you nervous about my dad?”
His thumb rubs over my skin as he says, “Yeah, of course. He told me several times to stay away from you, and look how well that worked out. I just need to figure out a way to make this right, to show him that it’s okay, that we’re okay. I mean, he can’t really kill one of his best defensemen, can he?”
“I sure hope not. I know my dad will be disappointed in me.”
“But why?” he asks. “I don’t get it. And I don’t mean that to sound heartless, but I don’t understand why your dad treats you the way he does. Why doesn’t he trust your judgment? Would it be so bad to date one of his players? Sure, there are a fewbad eggs out there, but for the most part, we’re good men, so wouldn’t he want that for his daughter?”
I lightly run my fingers over his short chest hair. “I think it stems from my mom,” I say. “I don’t know much about what happened between them. I was far too young to know anything, but I do know she walked away. I haven’t had any contact with her, and he never talks about her. I think he was hurt and has held on to that hurt for years. A part of me thinks because I’m a product of her, he feels apprehensive about me and what I’m going to do with my life. Maybe he doesn’t trust me not to leave him. I really don’t know. But it’s been hard living under his regime. I’ve made the most of it and have found ways to connect with him, even if they’re small, but those moments are few and far between.”
“Do you ever think about just not listening to him, not trying to appease him?”
“Pretty sure being in your bed right now is me not listening to him.”
Levi chuckles. “Yeah, I guess so. But do you ever want to stand up to him?”
“I’ve tried, but it just ends in a fight. It’s like nothing gets through to him.”
“Would you ever just . . . throw in the towel, give up on making anything of that relationship?” He slips his hand under the waistband of my shorts and soothingly strokes my hip. I love it.
I love this sense of possession.
“Maybe,” I say. “I guess it would depend. If I truly couldn’t get through to him, I probably would because I don’t think it’s fair for me to have a toxic and controlling relationship with my father rather than a loving one. I don’t think it’s at that point yet. I think there’s hope, but it all depends.”
“Is your career a deal breaker for you?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer without even having to think about it. “I don’t want to do something that I hate for a living. How is that fair to me? And that’s what he doesn’t understand. Sure, I went to school for business, but that’s because I was trying to make him happy. Last year, I started realizing that I can’t please others for the benefit of their comfort and at the expense of my discomfort. It was a tough conversation I had with my dad, and I know he didn’t take it well, hence the situation we’re in, but I’m hoping that maybe if I make something of myself, if I can prove to him that I can do this, he might be okay with it.”
“I know you will, Wylie. If anything, I know that you’re determined. Learned that from the fucking torture you put me through these past few weeks.”
I chuckle. “It was a fun kind of torture.”
“For you, maybe. For me, I think my dick almost fell off.”
Laughing, I kiss his chest and then sit up on my elbow to look down at him. “What made you say yes to helping him out?”
His hand smooths over my ass now as he says, “Didn’t have much of a choice. Hate to admit it, but my dick has gotten me into some trouble in the past, and Coach Wood has helped me out of some potentially sticky situations. He’s held that over my head.”
