Page 67 of Let Me Love You
And dammit, I hope he’s right.
“What are the odds Blake and Theo will hate me if I go home instead of attending their little after-party at SeaBird?” I ask.
“You don’t wanna come?”
With a sigh, I admit, “I’m exhausted, Colt.”
His shoulder shifts beneath my ear as he studies me carefully. Sometimes I love how well he knows me. Like when I’m hungry or overwhelmed or feeling flirty. He meets me in stride, giving me whatever I need. A pint of ice cream or my favorite blanket or a solid texting session, no matter how much he hates them.
Then there are times like these. When I hate how well he knows me. How easily he can read my feelings like they’re stamped on my forehead instead of hidden beneath layers and layers of defense mechanisms gifted by my parents, who never bothered to get to know the real me until Colt convinced them I was worth the effort.
“What are you thinking?” he murmurs.
With a sad smile, I shake my head. “Don’t play dumb, Colt. We both know what I’m thinking about.”
“Then, stop thinking,” he offers with a crooked smile. But it’s forced.
“We both know I would if I could,” I tell him.
His fake smile falls, along with the phony facade he’d been wielding. “I’m sorry, Sunshine—”
“You don’t need to apologize,” I interrupt. “Seriously. I know I’m being a butt right now, and I know I should be handling this better, but I’m tired.”
“I know.” He scrubs at his jaw. “Wanna know what I’m terrified of?”
Unable to look at him, I stare at my lap instead. “What?”
“I’m terrified a few extra hours of sleep isn't going to fix your exhaustion. And fuck, Ash.” He kisses the crown of my head. “It scares the shit out of me.”
“It scares the shit out of me too,” I whisper.
Pressing the intercom button, he addresses the driver. “Truman, can you take us back to our apartment, please?”
“Sure thing, Mr. Thorne,” a low voice answers through the speaker.
“Come on. Let’s get you in bed,” Colt tells me.
“You should go,” I urge.
“To bed?”
“No, to SeaBird,” I clarify. “Theo will want you there. And Blake’s your sister.”
He shakes his head. “I wanna be with you.”
“I’m not going anywhere,” I tell him, but the words have never felt heavier or more daunting. Because even though I want them to be the truth, it doesn’t mean he won’t leave me if he has to. If it’s what’s best for his son and for the life his little boy deserves.
“Ash,” Colt warns, the bastard reading my thoughts as if they’re his own.
“I’m fine,” I lie. “I love you.”
His expression twists, and he bends forward, burying his head in my hair and breathing me in. “Fuck, Ash.”Another breath.“Love you more than anything.”
And he does. Which makes me feel selfish. So damn selfish. For wanting to stay. For wanting to keep him all to myself when I know it isn’t fair. To Jaxon. To Eleanor. To the reporters who love giving him the spotlight.
I gulp past the lump in my throat and kiss Colt. It’s soft. Barely a touch of the lips. But the weight to it? The fear amplifying it? It’s almost more than I can take.
“I fucking love you.You,” he emphasizes. “Always you.”