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“Told ya to run, sugar,” I reminded her just before I lowered my mouth to hers.
I knew. I knew all too well. I knew terror and fear. I knew demons that haunted you at night instead of the sweet dreams we believed in as children. I knew more than he could imagine.
Pain came to all of us at some time or another. It was how we learned to cope with it that determined our future.
“It never leaves you . . . the hurt,” she said as she opened her eyes to look at me. “But you learn to live and you learn to deal with the loss. You do what you have to survive.”
No one understood. No one saw what I did. No one lived through what I had. I would have talked to them. But there was no one to understand. Keeping quiet is how I survived.”
When you hadn’t dealt with death, you didn’t understand. That had been me once. Before.
“A girl’s first kiss should never be from an asshole who’s taking his anger at life out on her. Lips this sweet shouldn’t be treated the way I treated them. I can’t take it back, but I can replace it. With something better.” He dipped his head. “This is what your first kiss should have been like,”
“Just my jersey, Maggie. No one else’s. Ever. I don’t want anyone’s jersey touching you but mine. Keep this one. Wear it any damn time you want, but don’t ever put Brady’s on again.” Oh. Okay. Oh my. I nodded and resisted the urge to wrap my arms around the shirt I was now wearing, and cuddle with it. It smelled like West. I was never going to want to wash it. He grinned. “My girl. My fucking jersey.”
“In life we often have to make decisions that aren’t easy. But it doesn’t mean they aren’t right.”
“I love you.” “I love you too,” she replied. I had always been told my future was on the field and I could be somebody great. And I had wanted that. Until I found somebody who needed me. And I realized the only person I wanted to be great for was her.
