Page 126 of Cockpit
Don’t you see that?
Why can’t you see that?
“I’ve already asked one woman in my life to stay—the only other woman I’ve ever let in—and look how that turned out for me. So, I’ll be damned if I ask you, too.”
“I’m not looking for you to ask me to stay. I’m looking to hear you tell me that you want me to.”
“Same difference.”
He’s so frustrating it’s maddening. “That’s the crux of it, isn’t it? You’ll never be over her, and I refuse to take second place.”
“I was over her the minute she walked out my door,” he says through gritted teeth.
“You were? It doesn’t seem that way from where I stand.”
“Really? I told you I wanted to try for something here. For us to figure this out . . . and you lied. How does that not make you like her?”
I stare at him, sick to my stomach and more than knowing I’m in an uphill battle that I don’t think I can win. When I walked into this hangar tonight, I was still one hundred percent undecided I wanted to fight for him.
But I’m fighting.
Because, with him standing in front of me, I know.
It’s just that simple.
“I never lied to you! I just didn’t tell you because I was scared!” I scream, frustrated at him and his fear and how he’s throwing everything but the kitchen sink into this fight to push me away. To paint me in a bad light so that he can walk away with less guilt. “I was scared to tell you and lose you, but it seems like I already have. Just like you’re scared to fight to keep me because you might have to open yourself up to letting someone in. Well, guess what? The possibility of getting hurt is always part of the equation. Always. But so is being loved and cherished and fulfilled. Those are the things you don’t ever talk about or focus on. The late-night calls just to say I love you. The early morning looks over coffee. The knowing you have a friend to sit with you in silence after you’ve had an absolutely shitty day. Those are the things you’re forgetting. Those are the things you’re ‘protecting’ Luke from seeing. What you don’t realize is that when he grows up, he will have no idea what is normal and fulfilling. So, you can keep being scared because, damn you, Grayson . . . you scare the hell out of me, too.”
I pound my fist on the railing because I have so much pent-up emotion, and I’m so mad at him that it’s either that or grab him and kiss him. The latter of which, I don’t want to do. “You take risks every damn day in your job—you’ve made a name for yourself doing it—and yet, you won’t take a goddamn risk on me, will you?”
“It isn’t that easy, Sidney.”
“The best things in life never are easy. You have to work at them and struggle with them just to make them work, but that’s the best reward . . . that you didn’t give up and it netted you something beautiful. We could be beautiful.” I’ve never pleaded in my life, but I’m doing it now. I need to hear him tell me he’ll try. That I’m worth the risk. That he wants me to stay. “I love you, damn it, and I don’t have a fucking clue what to do about it other than to ask you to choose me. To tell me I’m worth the risk.”
Every part of him freezes as every single part of me dies inside.
“I don’t know that I can,” he murmurs. His eyes well, and he blinks the moisture away before turning his back and walking to the edge of the space.
“I never looked for this. I never meant to fall in love with you . . . but I did, and I can’t stop it, and nothing you can say to me can stop it . . .” I hiccup a huge sob.
Ask me. Choose me. Fight for me.
“Sidney . . .”
“It’s okay.” I shake my head as I take a step back, and he turns to face me. “It’s just as shocking to me as it is to you. I have a heart. Who knew?” I say through another hysterical sob.
He takes a step forward, and as much as I tell myself to run as far away from him as possible to protect my heart because he hasn’t given me an inkling of hope, I don’t move.
Not when he frames the sides of my face with his hands.
Choose me.
His lips press kisses against the tracks my tears have left.
His lips meet mine in the sweetest of ways.
Choose me.
Then his hands remain on my cheeks, his forehead rests on mine, and his breath feathers over my lips.
