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“But,” he gritted out. “Wanna do things different with you. Wanna take you on a date. Give you what you deserve. Show this whole town you’re mine.” He lifted his hand to brush my cheek. “And then, I want to show you you’re mine.”
“You believe that because you’re you,” he countered delicately. “But I’ve got a low opinion about people in general because people suck. Because they look out for themselves. You didn’t do that. You stopped. Put yourself in danger. Were willing to take a blow for someone you barely know.”
I’d learned that good feelings were fleeting, unable to be trusted. Something bad was always on the horizon. That’s why I worried. If I didn’t have something to worry about, it meant something bad was coming soon. So, I always had something to worry about, even if it was a made-up terminal illness.
“I have a guy,” I blabbered into the phone. “In your basement?” my brother asked without missing a beat. “Make sure the handcuffs are secure.”
that she would make it through this… because she had to and because she had the strength inside her. Women did. They conquered the demons that men summoned, and they did it every day.
“You think because you have anxiety, you’re weak.” She shook her head. “It only makes you stronger. More impressive. That you successfully navigate through life.”
“First, there is nothing on this planet you can be terrible at,” he told me firmly. “Except parallel parking. You are terrible at that.”
