Page 149 of Quiet Obsession
“I started, finished, and tore it to pieces.”
“Why? Were you not happy with it?”
“I wasn’t happy withyou.” She lifts her head, smiling at me. “I took a picture of it, though. Do you want to see?”
“Not if it’s a pony.”
She chuckles, leaning out to grab her phone. “It’s not a pony. It’s... well, Hyde said all your tattoos represent something, or someone and...” She pinches her lips, then shows me the screen. “I drew something that representsyou.”
It’s a chess king in front of a mirror, and in the reflection, there’s a pawn. My brow furrows, eyes moving over the design as if the meaning might change if I look at it differently.
Millie looks up, studying my face. “You don’t like it.”
“No, it’s... is this how you see me?”
“I see you as the king, but you see yourself as a pawn. Less than you really are.” Her fingers slide up my chest, tracing the line of my collarbone. “I thought this would remind you of your worth every time you start doubting it.”
My throat tightens. “How long have you seen me like this?”
“Since I met you.”
Jesus. I’ve spent so many years being treated like I’m less, that somewhere along the line, I stopped questioning it. I accepted it... and here comes Millie, flipping my world on its head.
All this time, I kept telling myself I wasn’t worthy of her. Not worthy of the way she kept coming back no matter how many times I pushed her away. And the whole time she was looking straight through my bullshit.
I glance at the design again.
King.Herking. Fuck, that lands hard.
I angle my head until my neck aches and kiss her temple. “I love you, baby. Thank you.”
“Does that mean you like it?”
“I’ll call my artist tomorrow and book an appointment.”
She beams and moves in to kiss me, her tongue tangling with mine while her small hand slides down my abdomen and under the comforter.
“Round two?” she asks, biting my lip.
I catch her wrist before she grabs my cock. “Later. I need to go talk to your brother about us.”
She pulls back, pouting a little. “He won’t like the news.”
“I know.” Throwing a hand over my eyes, I exhale a long breath. “It’ll take time, but one day he’ll look past everything I’ve fucked up and realize I can be good for you.”
Millie shifts and sits up, comforter clutched to her chest. “What do you mean?”
“I mean it won’t be easy. Your brother’s seen me at my lowest. He knows I fuck up all the time.”
I run a hand down my face, hating the years I’ve wasted convinced there couldn’t be good inside me. I’ve never been a reliable person, but in Seattle, I realized that being worthy isn’t something you’re born with.
It’s something you choose.
I refuse to be defined by the violence of my upbringing. I won’t give Jeremiah the satisfaction.
“Maybe if Hyde sees how serious I am about you,” I continue, brushing my knuckles down her spine, “and that I can keep my shit together, he’ll approve.”
Her eyebrows hit her hairline, throwing me off.
