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If this were my last moment alive, how would I want it to be?
We don’t look at each other as we walk, but he touches my shoulder gently and gestures me across his body. He moves me to the opposite side of him before taking up position by the road.
I’ve always been the joke in this family. The one that gets poked fun at. The one nobody takes seriously.
There’s something about a man who is damn good at what he does that holds an appeal for me. Every step is sure. Practiced. Full of confidence.
feeling a little embarrassed by her involvement here, but also relieved. Because I’m tired. Tired of hurting. Tired of knowing my body isn’t keeping up but pretending it’s fine. It’s nice not having to pretend in front of someone.
Crazy enough to climb up on an animal that wants to kill you. Strong enough to stay on. And accomplished enough to look good doing it.
He sees my attention shift, and he dangles a carrot into my line of vision, thinking he’ll make me lose focus. The problem is, I’m not all that into carrots these days. I’m favoring whiskey and leather.
“I’m finding I don’t really care what people think where you’re concerned.”
His pinky finger wraps around mine tenderly before he moves his hand to the small of my back, guiding me safely across the road and making my chest flutter.
It’s like you’re so busy forcing yourself to smile and be happy all the time that you don’t even realize when you’re entitled to be pissed off.”
Summer: Please don’t do anything stupid while I’m at the staff meeting. I trust you to hold it together for one afternoon. Rhett: Shit, Princess. I don’t know. I might go crazy without you. Summer: For ducks’ sake. Summer: Duck Summer: *Duck Summer: FUCK. Ugh. Why can’t my phone learn that word? I’ll be back around dinnertime. Rhett: Quack.
If her face was a little more Please fuck me, sir and a little less I’m going to kill you, I’d be hard at the mere sight of her.
“You ever get tired of living to please everyone else all the time? Doesn’t it get boring?”
Summer gives so much of herself. Her dad. Her sister. Her stepmom. Everyone she meets. Me. But who the fuck is taking care of Summer? She’s sunny, and happy, and cracks a joke in the face of adversity. But right now, she seems tired.
She’s healthy, and strong, and resilient, and yet so fragile. She feels small in my arms, and the way she clutches at me borders on desperate. I wish I could ease all her hurt, all her worry, all her anxiety. It’s almost like she doesn’t see what a force she is. But I do. I wish I could make her see that too.
And for all the times I couldn’t decipher his look and thought he was glaring at me with irritation, or frustration, or distaste . . . I realize I was wrong. He’s staring at me like he wants me. Really wants me. Like he aches for me. Like he might melt, just for me.
“Having you think I’m out fucking everything that moves when I’ve looked at nothing and no one since the first day I laid eyes on you. I stepped into that godforsaken boardroom, and you practically demanded I become obsessed with you.”
“Now, tell me honestly, Summer. If this were your last moment on earth, what would you want me to do?” I don’t even need to think about it. I know what I want from him. “Ruin me.” “Good. I’m about fucking done being a gentleman with you. And the only thing I’m ruining you for is anyone else.”
For a man who’s never been huge on chatting, he sure has a lot to say once my clothes come off.
“If you keep talking about things that don’t matter, we’re going to run out of time to do things that do.”
Men who take a woman lightly don’t look at a woman the way Rhett looks at me.
“What if you stopped worrying about everything that could go wrong and just let yourself enjoy how right this feels?”
It seems unfair of me to think he’d be anything short of a gentleman. Small-town cowboy, rough around the edges, with a womanizing reputation, and he treats me better than any man ever has. Than any person has.
I’m hit with a realization that sends me reeling. Summer wasn’t just made for me. She’s it for me.
“But I want to make one thing clear. I am not possessive. I am protective. And I’ll never stop protecting you. I’d hit that fucker again in a heartbeat if it meant keeping him from talking to you that way.”
I’m angry that this isn’t easier. That nothing in my life ever has been. At this moment, I’m not feeling very glass half full, and I take it out on the good man standing in front of me.
I’m weak. I’m so fucking weak. A masochist, really.
Beautiful and devastated. I did that.
“When you have a kid, everyone warns you about the sleepless nights. The explosive diaper changes. How they grow so fast that you hemorrhage money on clothing them. What they don’t tell you is that you’ll never spend another day of your life without worrying about another person. You’ll never completely relax again because that person you created will always, always be on your mind. You’ll wonder where they are, what they’re doing, and if they’re okay.”
I’m alive, but am I really living? Or have I just been scuttling along, putting everyone else first?
He’ll leave me in the aftermath if something terrible happens. I’ve already picked up the pieces of so much heavy shit in my life. I’m not sure I want to sign up for caring about someone more than they care about themselves.”
“Maybe he doesn’t know what making you a priority looks like because no one has ever made him a priority.”
Choosing each other. Finding each other. Showing up for each other. And everything about the moment is flawless.
