Page 38 of Home for the Holidays
But I’ve been burned too many times. I’ve lost myself in too many guys.
It starts out small. A little corner edge here. A crease there. A tiny rip. And then the tears start getting bigger. Huge chunks get ripped away.
I don’t know who I am right now. I’m barely able to stand on my own two feet. I have a steady job, I can pay my way, but I don’t have the safety net I once did.
And Jake can’t be my safety net. I need to find it on my own.
“I want to be there when you come home,” I finally tell him. “But I also need to be an equal. I won’t be less than because you have more money and more power.”
“I have no power,” Jake says, lifting a hand.
I snort.
“I am utterly powerless when it comes to you,” he says quietly.
My stomach swoops. I want to believe him. I do. He’s saying all the right things.
“Rach, all I’ve wanted is you. Knowing you in this way… it’s a privilege. I don’t take it lightly.”
His rich brown eyes are telling me the truth, I know it deep in my soul.
So why is it so hard to trust him?
“If you meet a woman who—”
“Not interested,” he interrupts.
“I’m just saying. If you meet someone…”
“If I meet someone, I’d say, there’s no way she could compare to you.” He cups my cheek. “I don’t care what she looks like or what size dress she wears or how many advanced degrees she has. She’s not you.”
My heart pounds wildly in my chest. “Jake…”
“I know we just reconnected. I know it’s too soon,” he says. “The way I feel for you? That’s not going to go away.”
“It’s just a honeymoon phase. All relationships start out this way.” I chew my lip.
“Maybe. I know my own mind. And this deep, soul-crushing way I feel about you? That’s not a phase. That’s real.”
I swallow against the lump in my throat. “But…”
“I’m in this, Rach,” he says. “For however long you’ll let me, I’m in. If you want to walk away tomorrow, yeah, I might be devastated. But it would still be better than not ever having a chance with you.”
“Come home with me,” I blurt. “Come to New Hampshire.”
He gives me a crooked smile. “You want me to come meet your mom?”
“I do.” My heart flutters. “Yeah, I do.”
“You wouldn’t do that if you didn’t want to keep me,” he rationalizes as he pulls me into his arms.
“I want to keep you,” I tell him. “I don’t know how I’m going to manage it. I just know I want it.”
His smile stretches from ear to ear. “Say it again.”
“I want you,” I whisper.
Jake reaches for me, or maybe I reach for him, or maybe we both do. We meet in the middle for a desperate kiss. His tongue slips between my lips, tasting me, devouring me. I pull him close, my eager hands covering his shoulders and his chest and his perfect washboard abs.
