Fighting for Us (Bailey Brothers, #2)

by Claire Kingsley

“Sometimes what we need is a place to fall apart. A place where we know our pieces will be safe while we work on putting them back together.” She patted my leg. “You’re safe here, Bear.”

There was a big gap between giving me his phone number and setting a wedding date.

There was a fine line between angry noises and sex noises, and he was walking it.

We hadn’t said our vows—hadn’t declared in front of family and friends that we’d be true in sickness and in health, in good times and in bad. But I’d kept those vows anyway, and I didn’t regret a single second of it. Because this was love. Messy, imperfect, painful love. And I wasn’t giving up without a fight.

She was the moon to my ocean. I couldn’t escape her gravity. But I was sure as hell fighting it. I had to.

“Because I’m her best friend and if anyone tries to hurt her, I’ll murder them, dump the body, then lead the fucking search party.”

“You know how some people totally spoil and enable their children? That’s me. I’m people. I can’t stand the thought of you being unhappy, so I do whatever I have to do to make sure you’re not.”

“I’m not the one being all slutty and showing too much ankle. Hussy.”

I’d been the one chasing him since he’d come home. The only reason we were on this date was because I’d goaded him into it.

“Maybe that’s not how love works. Nobody’s keeping score. I love you because I do. Because of who you were, and who you are now. Because something deep inside me is connected to something deep inside you. And whatever that is, I think it’s worth fighting for.”

I love you, and I always will, but I can’t marry you. I can’t be your husband, and I can’t father your children. That’s the life you want—a life with a good man and a family. I can’t give you that. I can’t be him, no matter how much you want me to.”

He’d hurt me. Deeply. I’d put that hurt away, believing in the very deepest place in my soul that he would heal that wound someday. And then he didn’t. He tore it open again, leaving me raw and bleeding.

“If that’s how you see it, then that’s how it is.” “What’s that supposed to mean?” “It means you’re convinced you see things the only way they can be seen.

“Frank knew there was another way of seeing our situation. He soared on the wind like an eagle and looked down, instead of staying stuck on the ground.

“I miss him every single day. But like I said, his love was big. He left me with enough to last until the day I’m called home and get to see him again.”

“Grace’s love is awfully big, Bear. For a long time, it was big enough for both of you.”

The thing about pain, whether it’s physical or not, it demands our attention. A lot of the time that’s as it should be. We move our hand away from a flame to avoid being burned, or we treat an injury so our body can heal. But when that pain doesn’t go away, and it’s not something we can easily fix, it starts to dominate our life. Add in a hefty dose of anger, especially anger at things you can’t change, and it’s easy to forget how to feel anything else.”

You have your feet on the ground and you’re staring at the trunk of the tree. But she’s soaring above it. You’re both looking at the same thing, but she sees a side of it that you don’t. So maybe you need to look at it through her eyes.”

“You’ve been fighting for us since the night I was arrested. And I failed you. I should have been fighting by your side. I never should have left you. I should have put my faith in you the way you put your faith in me. I should have believed in us. I’m so sorry I didn’t.”

My mantra for this book, and really this entire series, has been, “What would you do if you weren’t afraid.”