She raised her eyebrows. "Well. If you'd like my expert opinion, I'd say he's in love, and he doesn't know what to do with it."
"You do?" I asked quietly.
She nodded. "Yup. All the signs are there. Jaw ticking, glaring at other men who come into your proximity, broody, unpredictable behavior, branding…" She gestured to my hickey. "You gonna go put him out of his misery?"
I laughed softly, and it ended on a groan. I sat there for a few seconds considering the situation at hand and then said, "I hope so. Ready?"
We walked out to my car and I handed Natalie my keys since she had agreed to be the DD. As she started the car, she said, "By the way, I know he's not a toy to you. I see the way you look at him too. And I can see why you like him… and that scar," she groaned out the last word, "it makes me want to rock him in my arms and then lick him."
I laughed. "Whoa! Careful there or my jaw is going to start ticking and I'm going to brood the rest of the way home."
She laughed, but after a second I looked over to her and she was thoughtful. "What I'm wondering is, do you see something long-term with him? I mean, how will that work exactly?" Her voice was gentle.
I sighed heavily. "I don't know. This is all new. And yes, his situation is so different–there are challenges. But I want to try. I know that. Whatever that means… It's like, the second I saw him, my life started. The second I started loving him, everything clicked into place for me. As confusing as our situation is, inside it feels like it all makes the most perfect sense."
Natalie was silent for a second. "Well, that's poetic, babe, and I believe every word you say, but life isn't always so poetic. And I know you know that better than anyone. I'm just encouraging you to be a realist about this situation, too, okay?"
She glanced at me, continuing, "He's damaged, honey, and I don't just mean his vocal cords–I mean, Jesus, from what you told me, he grew up in an abusive household, his uncle shot him, his parents both died right in front of him, and then he was kept alone and isolated until he was nineteen years old by a crazy uncle, not to mention the fact that he has an injury that keeps him locked away in his own mind for all intents and purposes–that's gotta leave a mark, babe. Is it any wonder he's damaged?"
I let out a big breath, letting my head hit the seat back. "I know," I whispered. "And when you put it like that, it sounds crazy to even believe in the possibility that we can work–that he could work with anyone, but somehow… I do. I don't even have any way of explaining it other than that despite everything you just mentioned, he's still good and kind, and brave and smart, and even funny sometimes." I smiled. "I mean, think of the strength of spirit you have to have to come through what he did and not be as mad as a hatter, to still retain a gentle heart."
"True," she agreed. "Still, damaged people do things because they can't trust or believe in anything good. He's never had anything good. I'm worried that the more serious it gets with you, the more it's going to freak him out. Where he'll work, what he'll do with his life, that's almost the easy stuff compared to the emotional baggage."
I looked at her, biting my lip. "I have baggage, though, Nat. I'm damaged too. Aren't all of us?"
"Not to that extent, honey. Not to that extent."
I nodded and lay my head back on the seat. "When'd you get so insightful into the human spirit anyway?" I asked, smiling over at her.
"I'm an old soul, babe–you already knew that." She winked at me and I grinned.
We pulled up in front of my cottage and I hugged Natalie goodnight before she hopped out with my key, waving over her shoulder. I went around the car and got in the driver's seat. I'd be okay driving a mile to Archer's house. I already felt completely sober.
When I got there, I let myself in the gate and walked down to his house. I knocked lightly, and a few seconds later, he answered wearing only a pair of jeans, and rubbing a towel through his hair.
I took him in as he stood there, looking so damned beautiful, and so damned insecure.
I laughed softly. "Hi." I sighed and walked in his house and turned to look at him when I heard his door close behind him.
Why are you laughing? he asked.
I shook my head and brought my hands up. Because I wish you could see yourself through my eyes. I wish you could read my mind so that you would know how much I want you, no one else. There could be three hundred men after me right now, and it wouldn't matter. Because none of them are you, Archer Hale. I dropped my hands for a second and then immediately brought them back up. None of them are the man I love. I shook my head slightly and then continued. And I was going to try to wait until maybe you were ready to say it, too, but… I can't. Because it literally wants to burst out of me all the time. And so it's okay if you don't love me, or if you're not sure if you do. But I'm sure. And I can't stand letting another minute go by where I don't tell you I love you, because I do. I. Love. You. I love you so much.
He stood frozen as I rambled, but at the start of my final five words, he moved across the space separating us so quickly that my breath caught in my throat and my hands fell. He grabbed me to him and pulled me against his body so tightly that I squeaked, a high-pitched sound somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
He picked me up and buried his face in my neck and as I wrapped my arms around him, he pulled me even tighter. I rested my head on his shoulder and breathed in his singular scent. We just stood like that for several minutes.