Playing for Keeps (The Game #2)(52)
Author: Emma Hart

“No,” I whisper. “I’ll stay as long as you need me to.”

And I mean it. If he needed me to stay forever, right here in his arms, I would. I’ll stay for as long as he needs me whenever he needs me.

“Good.”

His fingers dig into my back and his jaw clenches, his whole body going rigid. I slowly smooth my hands across his back, slipping them under his shirt. His muscles are solid beneath my fingers, rock solid, and his grip on me tightens as he tries to control the shaking of his hands through shallow breaths.

I feel the burn of tears as I sit here, completely powerless to stop whatever is going through his mind. He could be remembering anything, any horror, and there’s no way I can stop it. I’ve been here so many times already and it’s ripped my heart apart each and every time.

But I won’t leave. Love is stronger than hate.

Whatever hate is locked inside his body and whatever hate is burned into his mind, I know our love can push it out. I believe in the power it gives us.

And that’s why I will break my heart over and over again.

I will break my heart to heal his.

“Don’t go.” The words are a muffled, desperate plea into my hair.

“I’m not going anywhere,” I promise him. “I’m right here. I’ll be here as long as you need me.”

“I hate …”

“You’re safe.” My voice is soft yet firm, my hand moving to the back of his head as I fight through the tears threatening to spill from my eyes. “You’re safe here with me.”

His body twitches and he relaxes suddenly, his breathing broken and harsh. “Megan.”

Shit. He’s so broken. His voice is so quiet, so scared. My hands are shaking and my chest is heaving. I’m still fighting the tears that surface every time he remembers.

“I’m here. I’m always here,” I reassure him.

“Don’t go. Please don’t ever go.” His voice is ever smaller now, barely there, yet it seems like he’s screaming. I feel each word slicing into me, and a tear escapes my eye despite my best efforts.

“I’m staying. I promise. I’m not going anywhere.” I stroke the back of his head.

“I remember. Fishing with Gramps and Gran. I was four – it was just before she died. It’s patchy. One of the last of her. She was wrapped in her favorite blanket on the boat. Gramps didn’t want her to go and she told him to shut up. She wasn’t going to miss it. She loved coming on the boat. She’s the only person that ever came with us.”

Apart from me. His gramps accepted me so readily. Let me go on a trip that was reserved for them only – and his wife before she died. Today must have meant so much more to them than I thought. I hold that thought and squeeze my eyes shut.

“But then I went home. Took a fish. Mom was there. When Gramps left, she told me to put the fish in the freezer because she had to go to work, and I’d have to have toast because that was all she had. She went to work. I dropped the toast she’d made, the plate smashed, and he was angry. He was so f**king angry. He grabbed me by the back of my tee shirt and shoved me into the wall. My face smacked into it. The bastard broke my nose. Over a f**king plate!”

He tries to push away from me, and I hold him tighter.

“Megs–”

“No.”

He rips his head from my grip and stares at me, his eyes hard and cold. I wrap my legs around his, pinning him to me, and cup his face.

“I’m not letting you go,” I warn.

“I’m not f**king asking you, Megan!”

“I’m not asking you, either. I’m here, Aston. I’m right here in front of you.”

“I …”

And I realize. He’s scared. He’s scared of being the man he was told he would be. Scared of doing the things they did to him to me.

“You’re not him! Any of them. You’re more than that. You’re not them,” I finish softly. “You. Are. Not. Them.”

“You … I … Don’t.”

“I love you.”

He closes his eyes tightly, breathing harshly through his nose, and shakes his head.

“Yes. I love you. Every broken, mismatched piece of you. I love every single freaking piece of you, even when you feel this way, and that isn’t gonna change. You can be angry, afraid, sad, and I’ll still love you the same way I love you when you’re happy. Listen to me and believe me, Aston. I love every part of you the way you love every part of me.”

His arms shoot around my waist, and he lies me down on the bed, tucking me into his chest and locking our legs together. His body shakes as he holds me against him. I tilt my head back and stroke my thumb down his jaw and brush his lips. My fingers smooth over his closed eyes, and I press my lips against his softly.

“I’m here, Aston, and I’m not leaving you. Don’t push me away anymore. We’re past that now. I know all of you and you can’t change that.”

“I’m scared that one day … One day I will be the person they tried to make me. Don’t you get that? I’m scared … I’ll hurt you one day. I’m so f**king scared.”

“You won’t.”

His eyes shoot open, locking onto mine with a desperation for answers. “You don’t know that.”

I do know. I know with every part of me.

“You love me,” I say simply. “You have what they didn’t. You have love. We have love. Every time you feel that hate, think of me, and I’ll give you love. Always.”

He doesn’t move, his eyes never flickering away, his grip never wavering. The only movement in his body is the rising and falling of his chest as he regains control of his breathing. I run my thumb under his eye and across his cheek again, as if I can wipe away the pain he feels. Like if I do it enough it’ll actually work.

A long, pain-filled breath leaves between his lips, and he presses his face to mine, his eyes clearing.

“And this is why I need you,” he whispers. “It could be pitch black and you’d still break through with your light.”

“You need my love, not me. I’m just the person that gives it to you. I might be your light, but unless you wanted me to, no matter how hard I tried, I wouldn’t be able to break through the darkness. You’re the one that makes it better. I just help.”

He shakes his head, and I nod.

“I give you the light. It’s up to you whether or not you let it break through.”