Chapter 38

Be brave and kind.

"Stay," I plead. "Please."

For a second, I think he's going to.

That he'll take me in his arms and tell me he's sorry, that he loves me, that he's glad I'm okay and we'll figure this out.

But then his expression locks down.

And he takes a shaky step backward.

And another.

Then one more.

"King," I begin.

But he's in the hall now, and before I can reach for him again, he's turning away, disappearing from sight, footsteps echoing on the floor.

I move after him. "King!"

He's already twisting the handle, wrenching the door open.

"King!"

He doesn't stop.

Just walks through, pulling the door shut behind him.

And by the time I make it down the hall, manage to wrestle with the handle and open the door—my ribs protesting my jerky movements (but the ache in my heart a thousand times worse)—his car is gone.

The garage is empty.

And I'm alone.

Again.

Fifteen minutes later, after waiting for King to come back, waiting and hoping and maybe shedding a tear or thirty, I've given up and am slowly approaching the stairs, trying to figure out what the hell my next steps should be when I hear the door slam open and collide with the wall in the mudroom.

Stella, likely, back with Zeus and hoping to find her son relaxed and calm, my plan to honestly and gently break the news to him successful.

Something that's so far from the truth, it's laughable.

And I find I can't laugh right now.

Can't think about how I clearly messed up.

How even though I'm doing the best I can, the people I love still leave me.

Every fucking time.

I can't face that right now.

I need puppy cuddles and to figure out how to move forward.

I need?—

Footsteps echo toward me.

I need to lock myself in the bedroom and grasp on to a modicum of privacy before Stella sees me fall to pieces.

Faster.

I lift my foot, intending to speed run these stairs as well as I can considering my ribs.

But my toes don't make it onto the riser.

"Princess."

The rasped out word has me spinning on a gasp?—

And promptly losing my balance.

I fall backward and…

My white knight saves me again—catching me, cradling me against his chest before he sinks down onto the bottom step with me in his lap. He buries his face in my throat, alternating between curses and apologies. "Fuck, princess, I'm so sorry. Fuck, I'm such an idiot. Fucking hell, I can't believe I got in my car and drove away. I'm so goddamned sorry. I didn't mean to leave. I know—I know that was fucked up. It was just like I couldn't breathe and—fuck, I'm sorry and?—"

I press my finger to his lips. "Stop, honey." I weave my fingers into his hair, pull gently until his eyes meet mine. "Just stop for a second and breathe."

His arms tighten, but thankfully he stops talking.

And breathes.

"Good, baby."

A shaky nod. "I'm a dumbass."

"Yes," I say. "You are." I settle my forehead against his. "But you're my dumbass."

Thankfully that has his mouth turning up at the edges, amusement curling through blue eyes. "Knew I was going to freak the fuck out sooner or later, but I was trying not to. I didn't want—" A shake of his head. "I want to be more than that."

"I don't need you to be more." I lift my head, hold his gaze. "I just want you to be you."

He looks away.

I cup his jaw. "I love every part of you."

He winces, smooths a hand down my back. "Sorry you had to be on the receiving end of my freak out."

Be brave and kind.

I stop, shake my head, try to tease out why my brain is shoving those words into the front of my mind.

Then getting it.

Fighting for us…

It's also fighting for me.

"What?" He's focused back on me.

"I was going to say it was okay," I say. "But it's not." I clear the knot from my throat, force myself to keep talking even though it feels very scary to continue. "It's not okay for you to leave me when everyone else important in my life has left me in one way or another?—"

Pain ripples across his face.

But I owe this truth to him.

To myself.

He came back because he realized he fucked up.

I would be fucking up if I didn't draw this boundary.

"You left." I take a breath. "I asked you to stay and you left and that's not okay. If we really love each other, we have to find a way to talk the hard stuff through. I know this is an extreme situation, but?—"

More pain, and I feel like a total jerk.

Today was bad, was triggering in so many ways for both him and I.

But…I have to keep going.

I cover his cheek with my palm, the bristles of his beard tickling my skin. "You can ask for space and take it. You can be upset that my monster of an ex did what he did. You can carry the pain of your past without me expecting you to magically be healed, but I cannot tolerate you walking out." My voice cracks.

Be brave and kind.

I push on. "Phillip can hurt me. My stepsisters can be their bitchy selves. My stepmom can hit me, lock me up, can use me for free labor all over again. Hell, I can lose a thousand belongings to the teeth of a naughty fluffy puppy." I drop my forehead to his. "But I cannot stand to watch you walk away from me, knowing we're both hurt and torn to pieces inside."

"Dammit," he mutters, eyes sliding closed. "I'm an asshole."

"I think we've already established that you're my asshole."

"I believe it was dumbass." His mouth quirks as I giggle. Then his expression flattens out and he strokes a finger down my cheek. "I won't walk out. Not when you ask me to stay. Not ever again."

I hear the truth in his voice and relax. "Thank you."

"I'm sorry."

"I know." I bury my face in his throat, hold him as tight as I'm able to with my ribs. "I'm sorry you had to come home to that."

He slides a hand into my hair, lifts my head. "Don't fucking apologize for what that man did."

"I'm not," I tell him honestly, holding his gaze when his eyes spark with fury. "But I'm okay because you're here and I fought for us, for me. I'm okay because I'm safe. Because I can make plans for the future and know they're not going to disappear."

Gentle. His expression becomes so freaking gentle that it takes my breath away. "I love you," he whispers. "I know I'll fuck up, and probably do it far too often. I'm not my father who can navigate this stuff easily. My head is all twisted and I'm not perfect, but—" Determination fills his face. "I love you and I'm not letting you go." A beat. "Not ever."

God, I love this man.

Love that he can admit all that.

And still say that.

"All of that sounds perfect to me."

"And I know I'm not my father?—"

"Your father's not perfect, honey."

I jump.

King jumps.

Stella's standing in the doorway, her expression worried as her eyes come to mine and hold. "I was…" She exhales, shakes her head slightly, drawing the adoring gaze of Zeus, who's sitting at her feet. "Concerned," she says. "After what happened and what you told me."

King goes still next to me.

Stella exhales again, head dropping for a second. Then her stare comes back to mine.

And I get it.

She needs to talk to her son.

I press my lips to King's. "I'm going to take Zeus for a walk."

Another walk. Not that the pooch will mind.

He frowns. "Princess?—"

"I'll be back, okay?"

I wait until his gaze comes to mine and he nods, something settling in me. Not leaving. Not forcing him to stare at my back as I walk away.

Be brave and kind.

"See you soon," I murmur and then I'm pushing out of his hold, walking over to Stella, taking Zeus's leash.

He gives a little happy dance, those tiny feet tap-dancing on the hardwood floor.

We walk out the front door.

And I leave Mama Bang to work her magic.