Chapter Nine-
Things between me and Derek were finally nice.
There were no more bad moods; he didn't even attempt to hate me anymore, and he seemed to be over having to stand up for me to his family.
All in all, our relationship seemed to be at an all-time high. I spent most of my days with Derek. If I wasn't at work or at school, I was usually at his house, which ended up working out, because Mike was working about 50 hours a week, and he was rarely home anyway. The blonde woman that I had found out was Derek's stepmother was never actually home for more than ten minutes, so we didn't have to worry about her either.
For the most part, we had the place to ourselves.
I did go home one day when Alex happened to be there, and he looked up, feigning surprise, and said, "You still live here?"
I merely smiled and rolled my eyes, continuing down the hall.
The only problem I had with spending so much time at Derek's was that I would often want to look at one of my books, and they wouldn't be there. Derek didn't actually own books, so there was no chance that he might have it. His stepmother had a few books in the living room, but they were all diet books. Inevitably, I ended up bringing my own books over and usually forgetting them there, so even Derek's house felt more like home.
One night after our homework was finished and there were no more episodes of The King of Queens for us to watch, Derek mentioned something about the movie Scarface. I had never seen the movie, and when I told him as much, he responded with wide-eyed shock.
"You've never seen Scarface?" he asked in disbelief.
I shook my head. "Nope. The only thing I know about it... isn't Al Pacino in it? And there was a line about, 'Say hello to my little friend.'"
"Wow," he said. "I feel bad for you. Scarface is one of the best movies ever made."
"Well, why don't we rent it sometime?" I suggested. "I'll watch it with you. Maybe I'll like it."
He shook his head. "We don't have to rent it. We own that movie. Go get it, we'll watch it now."
"Is it in the living room?" I asking, climbing off his bed.
"No, my dad has it in his bedroom," he said, gesturing across the hall. "Go on in there, I don't think he's home yet. It's in the shelving unit to the right of the bed when you walk in the door."
I hesitated at the door, glancing back at him. "Um, I'm not sure that I should be going into your dad's room."
He rolled his eyes at me. "Just go. If you're not back in 20 minutes, I'll send a search party."
I sighed at him and looked both ways in the hall before I walked out of his room and quickly made my way into his father's room. There were no lights on, so the only illumination was the moonlight through the window, which actually proved to be surprisingly sufficient. I was glad, because I didn't want to turn any lights on. His dad was at the store, so he could pull in anytime, and I didn't really want him to see his bedroom light on.
I walked softly into the room as if I might disturb it, and I immediately saw the shelving unit Derek told me the movie was in. I glanced over it once quickly, but didn't find it, so I went back over it again. I couldn't see the top shelf very well because I was too short, but I stood on my tiptoes, ignoring the picture in the left side of the shelf, which showed a much younger Mike with a very pregnant Sarah standing outside of somebody's house. I only glanced at it for a moment, then I went back to scanning titles of movies.
Suddenly I frowned, not finding Scarface, but noticing that there actually was one lonesome book in that shelf. The way the moon happened to be positioned, I couldn't quite make out the title at first, but I was curious to see if it was another diet book. I inched my fingers up there and wedged them between the book and the movie next to it, and I yanked it out, pulling it down.
My pulse skittered when I saw that the book just so happened to be Wuthering Heights.
When my heart started beating again, I stared at the book for a few seconds with wide-eyes, thinking of my mother's last journal entry. Maybe it was just a coincidence, I reasoned quickly. Maybe it had nothing to do with my mom.
Still, the book was hidden up in that corner, and it was the only book he seemed to own.
But if my mother had indeed been the one to loan him that book, that would mean... that she actually saw him. As far as I knew, my mother hadn't actually seen Mike... well, she hadn't spoken to Mike in years. But if he was the person she had given the book to...
I carefully opened the book, lost in thought, and I flipped through a few pages until I came upon an aged, folded up piece of paper. No, a couple pieces of paper.
My eyes widened a little and I peeked over my shoulder, making sure no one was witnessing my snooping, then unfolded the worn pieces of paper. The first words I saw were, "Dear Mike," and they were in handwriting that I knew better than I knew my own.
My heart skipped another beat as I realized it was a letter from my mom. And he had kept it.
This is supposed to be one of those letters that you write to someone knowing that you'll never actually give it to them. The reason I'm starting this letter that way is so that I'll be completely honest, get all my feelings down on paper, and then maybe I'll burn it or throw it away.
But I’m already pretty honest with you, don't you think?
Well, here's some more honesty.
I meant everything that I said to you the night I told you that I still cared about you, that I didn't want to let go, that I wasn't going to go away that easily. I made up my mind –my heart—that night to fight for you, to stick it out as long as it was what we both wanted, no matter how long that might take. But that night I still felt like you cared about me. I still care about you more than you know, but lately I feel like you're pulling away from me. And I can't fight this battle on my own, Mike. I need to know that you're on my side. I realize you have other things you're dealing with right now, but why do you have to handle it all alone? Why can't you let me be there for you?
Now, I'm going to be completely honest. I want to keep holding on, but I need more from you. Can't you see that holding on like this is killing me? I don't know if it just seems like it isn't as hard on you, or if it really isn't, but it really is hard on me. I don't like having to sneak around, but I am willing to do it if that's what it takes to be with you. Honestly, I hate that I am willing, but I am. I can't help it. I just can't seem to walk away from you, no matter how hard I try. I also hate to tell you that, but...
I have asked you at least a dozen times if you want me to let go. You give me mixed signals. Don't get me wrong, if you felt good about cheating, that would definitely be a problem, but...
I guess that’s the problem. You see it as cheating, I just see it as being with you part-time.
I don't want to do it anymore. Not like this. I would do anything for you—including letting you go, if that was what you wanted. I've asked you over and over again, and you won't come right out and say it, but you insinuate that you don't want me to let go, then when I push you to clarify, you tell me you give me "clear enough" answers. Well, my interpretation is that you don't want me to let go. If you do, please don't think you're being kind by lying to me. You're not. If you want me to let go, then let me go. I will go away just like that, Mike, all you have to do is tell me to. It will hurt, I won't want to, but I will. Eventually I'm sure I'll even get over it.
But I need you to make a decision. I'm sorry, I've tried to just take what you could give me, but it's not right and it's not what I want. I know that you're back together, but you told me that was just because of the baby. I've given this a lot of thought, and I want you to please think about this.
If you're just with her out of some sense of duty and responsibility, I understand, but it doesn't have to be this way. Your duty and responsibility is to your child, not to Sarah. You don't have to be with her. You can be with me, but it's your choice to make. You have to do what you want to do. I love kids; I already told you that night in the break room that that wasn't enough to make me walk away. I have tried to be patient and understanding, and I will continue to be understanding. I'm more than willing to compromise with you, to work with you and try to make nice with Sarah to make your life easier. You're not even giving me a chance. I feel like you've just decided that it won't work, so you're not even going to try.
If that's the case, I obviously don't mean very much to you. If you cared about me the way you claim to, you would be willing to try.
You don’t have to pick me, but I do need you to pick one of us. I just want you to be happy, whatever you decide to do. Whether you return the feeling or not, I care for you very deeply, and I want nothing more than your happiness.
I need to know what you want.
If I didn't care so much, I wouldn't be doing this to myself. I would just keep what pride and dignity I have left and call it a loss. Instead, I find myself baring my heart to you time after time. So what's one more time?
I don't want to let you go. I don't want to get over you. I still want to be with you, to hell with the complications. We can get through each and every one of these complications if we want it enough. But if you don't want to, I need you to tell me. Please.
If you don't, please just let me go.
Whatever you choose, be happy. The one thing I cannot stand to imagine is you being unhappy. But I need an answer. I can't keep going on like this.
Love always, Jamie
I stood there, just staring at the note for a few seconds. I lightly rubbed my thumb over her name, feeling bad for the girl she had been.
I had always wondered what she had written in that letter. That was the "novel" she had written to him all those years ago, before he moved in with Sarah, the one she had tried to get him to make a decision in. But when she pushed for a response, that was the night he came up and told her he and Sarah had broken up.
And he still had the letter.
That bothered me for some reason.
I thought I was done, but in the back of the book I found another piece of paper, also old and folded up. I frowned, wondering when she had written him another letter. I didn't know anything about another letter.
"Dear Mike," it began.
The other night was a mistake. I have to start this letter by saying that. I don't want you to think that I've changed so much, that I've become the type of woman who's okay with doing that sort of thing. It was a mistake. You're married now.
"Hey, I was just joking about that search party," Derek said, coming into the room.
I jumped a little, looking at him guiltily.
He frowned, looking at the letter. "What are you reading?"
"A letter," I said, wondering if he was going to be mad.
"Where did you get that?" he asked.
"It's from my mom, Derek. I found this one and another one in a copy of Wuthering Heights he had up in the top corner of his bookshelf." I glanced back at the letter. "Hold on, let me finish this, please."
He frowned, but let me go back to snooping as he took the one I had already read and started to read it.
Don't get me wrong, Mike, I still love you. I wish to God that I didn't, but I do. I've even tried not to. I've tried hating you. I convinced everybody else, but I find that I don't believe my own lies.
I never believed there was such a thing as "the love of my life" before you. Just the concept that there could be just one person for everyone... it didn't sound right to me. But I do know one thing. I don't ever see myself loving anyone else the way that I love you. I don't even think it's possible to love like this again. Honestly, I think that might be a good thing... When I think of the hell you've put me through... why would I even want to experience that again?
I don't know, but apparently I'm a masochist, because I do want to be with you, even now. You gave me so much hope the other night, and even though I went to hell and back before, I was ready to go again. I guess I still am. Did you mean what you said? Or were you just teasing me, like you always do? Just giving me a taste of the only thing I would give anything to have... just to give it back to her. I want to believe you, I want to believe that you've realized the error of your ways and you won’t do that again.
After all, if you weren't being sincere, then you were being cruel. Why would you stir up all those hopes and feelings in me after all these years if you still didn't intend on following through with any of them?
I won't be your mistress, I feel I should make that much clear. I won't put myself through that again. But if you two really are splitting up, if you really don't love her... if you're really, truly leaving her for good this time, then I'm here. Just like I've always been here.
"What are you doing?"
I gasped, the letter slipping right out of my hands as I looked up at Mike, whose gaze was narrowed.
Unfortunately, the only sound that seemed to come from my mouth was, "Uh..."
Derek recovered a little quicker, saying, "We were just going to watch Scarface, we were going to... get it."
He directed his gaze at the letter that was lying in the floor. "That isn't Scarface."
"No," Derek agreed, looking at me, not really knowing what else to say.
"Get out of my room," Mike said, bending over to pick up the letter off the floor.
Suddenly, seeing the letter in his hand seemed to knock me out of my dumbfounded silence. "You talked to her before it happened," I stated.
He looked at me coldly. "I believe I asked you—"
"No! I didn't get to finish reading that letter, but I read enough. I know—"
"You don't know anything," he said, cutting me off.
Derek took me by the arm. "Nikki, come on," he said.
I felt rage coursing through my entire body, burning with the knowledge of what was in that letter that she had written before she died. That he was the one to dig it all up again, to make her more false promises that he obviously didn't deliver on. Finally finding out that it was his fault that she broke again.
"He talked to her, Derek. He did it to her. She was okay, she was moving on, she had her life with me and then he had to go and screw it all up! Why? Why did you do that?" I demanded, even as Derek tried to drag me out of the room.
“Come on,” Derek said, attempting to calm me.
"Why?" I didn’t even realize tears were welling up in my eyes. "Did you enjoy seeing her suffer? Why did you have to open it all up again? I knew it didn't seem right. I knew she wasn't crazy. If she was, it's because you drove her there."
"Get out!" Mike said.
"Go to hell!" I screamed. "You did it! For years I've been living with the stigma, and you're the one that set her off! You took her away from me! I loved her, unlike you, and because of you she's gone!" I accused. "She loved you so much; how could you do that to her? What did you do? Did you sleep with her? Did you think you could just toy with her a little more? Did you ever really even give a damn about her? Did you tell my mother you would leave Sarah for her?"
Derek yanked me out of his father's room, making a quick stop in his room to get his keys before he led me out of the house by the arm, as if I might run back in and attack Mike.
And I might have. I was pretty pissed off at that point.
"I'm not done here," I told Derek, trying to pull my arm free. "I want to go back in. I want answers."
"Not right now, Nikki," Derek said, putting his hand on the small of my back to make sure I kept walking. "I'm taking you home."
"You don't even understand. I know you lost your mother, too, but nobody made you pay for it. Not only did he ruin her life and cause her years of suffering, but he passed it along to me. I've had to listen to people disrespect my mother's memory for years—"
"What she did was still wrong, Nikki," Derek stated, cutting me off.
"What he did was wrong, too!" I fired back. "Don’t you dare defend him. It had been years, Derek. She wouldn't have just flipped out and taken her own life and someone else's if he wouldn't have triggered her. But he couldn't leave well enough alone. He made the wrong choice in the first place, so he thought he'd take my mother's heart off the shelf and kick it around a little more. This all happened because of him."
"He didn't make her do it," he replied.
"Yes he did," I said lowly. "He may not have been in the car with her, but if he wouldn't have started screwing with her emotions again she would still be here right now. So would your mother. My mom had given up," I said, the angry tears starting to fall. "She was trying to heal her broken heart, and she did to the best of her ability. We were happy. It didn't make sense. But it does now. And he just gets to keep on living his life, marrying someone else, raising a child, while they just died." I laughed mirthlessly, thinking how ridiculous it was. "All over one damn man," I said, almost to myself. "Do you see now why I hate love?" I asked, glancing up at him. "Do you see what love does?"
"That isn't what love normally does, Nikki," he responded quietly.
"Yes, it is," I returned just as quietly, turning my head to gaze sightlessly out the window.
For the rest of that night I stayed in my room with my mother's journals, trying to make sure I had put together the pieces of the puzzle correctly.
By my understanding, my mom and Mike had had their little relationship before I was born. When she found out about me, she decided to rebuild her life, but building it around me instead of Mike. I understood all of that, because I had always known about it.
It was the new part I wanted to make sure I understood.
She said, "You're married now," so it was obviously a letter from years later, because Mike and Sarah didn't get married until a year before the accident. Also, the letters were kept in Wuthering Heights, which was kept hidden in a corner, the only book Mike actually seemed to own. As far as I was concerned, he absolutely had to be the person she had given the book to, telling him, "You might relate."
I wondered, then, at the context. When I had read her final line initially, I didn't think anything of it. But thinking of Wuthering Heights, of the tortured lovers, obsessed even beyond the grave, the line seemed a little more important.
But what had happened between them to make her snap? How, after so many years, had they even found themselves together? Why was she talking about Mike leaving Sarah? She insinuated that he had told her he was going to, given her new hope.
I could only assume, given that she killed herself the next day, that he had backed out again. She could only take so much, and having her heart crushed again must have just been too much for her.
The next day was Saturday, and I wasn't sure if I should expect to hear from Derek or not.
Normally we talked and hung out every day, but I had just yelled at his father and told him to go to hell. I wasn't sorry, not by any means. Telling him to go to hell was the very least I could have done. I would have liked to say much more, but Derek didn't let me.
I worked until three and at the end of my shift I still had no voicemails from Derek. Even though I hated to admit it, it made me kind of sad to think Derek was mad at me. When would he talk to me again? When he did, was he going to be mean? I was getting so accustomed to Derek being nice, I really didn't want him to be mean to me again.
It wasn't until a little after five that Derek finally called. I couldn't tell at first if he was mad at me or not, because he was talking lowly, which made me a little nervous. Then he asked me if I wanted to go to the park. I really didn't, because of the park's history with my family, but I agreed anyway, and he said he would come pick me up.
He barely spoke to me the whole time we drove to the park, which made me uneasy. We weren't even dating, but I somehow felt like he was about to break up with me.
He finally spoke when he got out and stood against the guard rail, looking down at his shoes, which now had black laces.
"I've destroyed all evidence of that video," he stated.
My eyes widened a little. "The video from the party?"
He nodded, still not looking at me. "There are no copies of it and I deleted the original. No one but you and I will ever know about that video, so you don't have to worry about it anymore."
There was no other word for it, I was simply stunned. And even in the midst of all the shock I was feeling, I realized I didn't feel one single ounce of the relief I expected to feel. I didn't feel free, I felt discarded.
"You're sick of me," I finally said, feeling strangely disappointed.
He looked at me, but there was no twinkle in his blue eyes. "No, I'm definitely not," he said, a humorless smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Then why?" I asked, feeling a strange tightening in my stomach. "I don't understand. I didn't ask you to do that, Derek. This is coming from nowhere. Is it because of yesterday? You're mad at me, so you don't want to be with me anymore?"
"Nikki, it's nothing like that," he said, shaking his head.
"Then what is it? I'm confused."
He waited for such a long time that I actually thought he wasn't going to answer me, but he finally said, "I talked to my dad last night. About... the letters, about your mom... about my mom."
My eyes widened again, but I didn't think it was my turn to speak, so I just let him continue.
"I know what happened now. He explained everything, beginning to end. He told me he and my mother had broken up and he started hanging out with your mom... he explained how it all started, and about when my mom found out she was pregnant with me, the way she told him she had the best Christmas present in the world to give him."
He paused briefly. "He told me that, although he tried not to let her see, he was completely miserable after that, and how even then your mom would try to cheer him up. He told me about the conversations your mom would have with him, how he was torn... but at the end of the day, he had to do what he thought was right. He told me that your mom cried to him a couple times, one time she even asked him why it was 'the right thing to do' to break her heart. He told me that... he could never give her an answer. He said he knew it wasn't right, but he didn't think it would be right to abandon us either, so he had to hurt someone, and I guess she just... I'm the only reason that he chose to hurt her. Then he told me that he had kept stringing her along, he even admitted that to me. He said he was trying to find some way out of it, some magical answer to all his problems. But he never found one, so he finally just started pushing her away, thinking that would make it easier for her to let go. He told me that my mother pretty much used me to make sure she didn't lose him. She knew about Jamie, but she didn't care, because she knew she had the Trump card. She had me, and as long as she did, my dad wouldn't leave her, because she made sure he understood that if he left her, he left both of us."
I could remember journal entries where my mother had pretty much said the same thing, but I still didn't feel like it was my turn to speak, so I just kept listening.
"And it was your mother that they were fighting about that night," he told me. "My dad lied to protect Jamie, because he knew my mom might actually go after her if she knew. But your mom was the woman that he cheated with."
"Why?" I asked quietly.
Derek shook his head. "I don't know. He said that he saw her, and she saw him, and even after all those years, her expression was still pained, he could still see the hurt in her eyes when she looked at him. He had turned her away to protect her, to stop hurting her, and in one moment of weakness it was all for nothing. He didn't tell me exactly what happened or how it happened, he just told me that... he did end up cheating on my mom that night."
I had figured as much. "Well, what about the rest of it? In that letter, Mom said stuff about him leaving Sarah, about them actually getting to be together. What was that?"
Derek sighed a little. "I guess being with Jamie again... after years of being unhappy, he said it just felt so right. He told her... he asked her if she still wanted to be with him, and she didn't answer at first, she just told him he was married. That was when he told her that he wanted to leave my mother, but he didn't want to lose me. He said she was so happy that night, and it was so nice to see her so happy when he hadn't seen it for so long, and she just kept getting promises out of him.
“By the end of that night, they were both actually excited about the idea. He said that even before they parted that night, she took his hand and asked him not to lie to her anymore, to only make her promises if he was really going to keep them. She told him that it was too hard to get over him the first time, that she couldn't stand if he broke her heart all over again. He told her... that he never wanted to hurt her again, and that he was sure it was what he wanted. He said that even when she left, she looked at him as if she might never see him again, so he didn't think she was convinced."
A few seconds passed and he didn't say anything else, so I asked, "What happened?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "He let her down again. When he told my mom that he wanted a divorce, she freaked out. She started threatening him again, promising him that if he went off with 'that whore' he would never lay eyes on me again. My dad didn't want to go into all the details, but I guess they fought about it for about a month, maybe a little longer. Your mom could tell, he said. He knew she wasn't fooled, and he knew she no longer believed in him. The day he told her he was sorry, he couldn't do it, he said that she looked like she was going to cry, but she didn't, she just smiled and said, 'I wish you loved me.' For the first time, he told her he did. He told her that he wished things were different, but things just hadn't changed. He told her that my mom still held me over his head, that if he left her, she still wouldn't let him see me. He said his only hope would be to wait until I was old enough to choose, but by then she might turn me against him anyway. He said he was sorry that he had screwed both of their lives up, and he wished he had it all to do over again. He finally told her not to hold on, not to wait for him, because I would probably be 18 before he would be free of my mother."
I didn't realize that tears had formed in my eyes as he told the story, but I felt one slowly slide down my face. "That's why she did it," I said quietly.
Derek nodded. "That's what he thinks, too."
Suddenly the last piece had fallen into place, there was no more mystery surrounding my mother's death.
She had loved Mike deeply, just as I had suspected, but he had made mistakes that ruined both of their lives. He had made bad choices, and they just hurt her more. Sarah had been using Derek to keep Mike her prisoner, and when Sarah stole Mike from her again, she just broke. I could actually imagine it playing out in my mind, see my mom driving down the road, thinking of Mike, probably wiping away stray tears that she didn't need to hold in since I wasn't with her. She probably saw Sarah pull out, and the anger and bitterness overwhelmed her. Looking at the car, she could probably only think of how the woman behind the wheel had ruined not only my mother's life, but the life of the man she claimed to love. She didn't know what love was, my mother probably thought. Sarah could never understand what it felt like to love someone more than she loved herself, because if she did, she would have let Mike go. She would have wanted him to be happy. But instead she used her child to keep Mike trapped in a relationship with her. As my mother's foot pressed down on the pedal, one of her last thoughts was probably something like, "See if you ever threaten to keep Mike from his son again."
I sighed, shaking my head. "Wow."
Derek nodded his agreement. "Yeah."
"But didn't she realize you could've been in the car?" I asked.
"That's what I said too, when my dad was basically defending her. But she knew I wasn't in the car. It was a Wednesday."
I merely blinked. He said that like it meant something, but I couldn't see how it being a Wednesday made any difference. "Which means...?"
Derek sighed. "The night they were together he said he made the remark that every Wednesday was his day off, and he took me over to his mom's house and we spent the day there while my mom went to work. Of course I never thought anything of it before, but I do remember that we were at her house when we got the call."
I had wanted to hear the story, wanted all my life to understand what would drive my mother to do something like that, but I still didn't understand why that made Derek not want to be with me.
"But wait," I said. "What does that have to do with you destroying the tapes?"
"I won't do what my mother did," he said. "She blackmailed my father, kept him from the woman he loved, and basically forced him to be with her or suffer the consequences. That's pretty much what I've been doing to you."
I was about to open my mouth to tell him how completely ridiculous that was, but he started talking again.
"Andy would probably take you back. I didn't think you really cared about him, but... if you did—if you do, you should go back to him."
"You want me to go back to Andy?" I asked, frowning.
"I don't want you to, no, but you've made it pretty clear that you don't want to be with me, so..."
"I have not," I said, although I couldn't quite look him in the eye as I said that.
Derek scoffed a little. "Yeah, you definitely have. I’ve tried to act like a boyfriend, I've tried to take the place of your boyfriend. I can't seem to make you want to be with me. Personally, I can't believe you would waste yourself on Andy, but hey, if that's what you want to do..."
"I don't want to be with Andy," I stated, feeling slightly confused.
"So why were you still with him? I made you break up with him, Nikki. You didn't seem to want to. I threatened you, just like my mother—"
"Oh, stop with that," I said, cutting him off. "Derek, that's completely ridiculous. You are nothing like your mother, at least not what I know of her. And how can you think I don't want you? Can't you tell that I do?"
"I'm not talking about wanting me, Nikki," he said, glancing up at me. "I feel like the damn girl here, but I'm talking about caring about me. Yeah, I want you too, but more than that, I care about you. I broke up with my girlfriend and broke you and your boyfriend up, and then... I started to think that maybe it wasn't such a bad idea. But you've completely rejected the idea of dating me every single time I've brought it up. I get it, Nikki. You don't like me that way."
"It's not about not liking you," I said, disbelieving that he could actually think I felt that way. "Derek, of course I like you. I haven't rejected the idea of being with you because I don't like you. How could you think that?"
"Then why the hell won't you just admit we're dating?" he asked, seeming as confused as I was.
"Because I'm afraid to," I blurted. "I don't want us to be dating, Derek, because if we're dating then we're going to start caring about each other. I'm going to start caring about you, and that caring could lead to..."
I paused for so long that even I didn't think I was going to finish the sentence, but he impatiently said, "Keep going, caring could lead to... what? Monsters? The apocalypse? Higher taxes for the wealthy?"
"Love," I said, feeling oddly defeated. "I can see myself loving you, Derek, and that scares the hell out of me."
He smiled, a slight twinkle appearing in his eyes as he reached out and grabbed my arm, tugging me closer to him and holding my hand. "Why? I'm the guy, I'm the one that's supposed to be afraid of the L-word," he teased lightly.
"Because look what it does," I said quietly, not in the mood to joke. "I don't want to love you or anyone else. Look what kind of damage loving someone does. It can destroy you, heart and soul, Derek. I don't want to get hurt like she did. I've always promised myself, as long as I've been old enough to understand, that I would never allow someone to get that close to me, to hurt me that way. If I let you, you'll hurt me, and I don't want to turn into her."
Derek pulled me into his arms, hugging me and kissing me on top of the head. "Nikki, love didn't do that to your mother; my dad did. It was their situation, their choices, that's what made them so miserable. It wasn't love. Most people care about each other –even love each other—without going through what your mother went through. I understand your reluctance, but... if you really like me, give me a chance to win your trust."
"She trusted him," I replied automatically.
"Again, their love was the exception. Most love isn't that miserable, and theirs probably wouldn't have been either, but I had to go and be born."
I smiled, even though I didn't mean to, and leaned into his chest. "Well, I'm glad you were born."
"Yeah?" he asked teasingly, his eyes twinkling at me. "How come?"
I knew he was probably expecting some nice, tender response, so I smiled up at him and said, "Because if you wouldn't have been born, I never would’ve been able to buy my favorite sweater."
Startled by my response, he started laughing, then he squeezed me at the sides and muttered, "I see how it is."
I smiled, impulsively kissing him on the shoulder. "No, I'm just playing. I really am glad you were born, even for reasons beyond my sweater."
"Yeah?" he asked. "Then what do you say you give us a real chance?"
I had to think about it for a minute. He was asking me to do something I had never done before, something I had never wanted to do—let him in my heart when I had spent my life keeping people out. He was asking me to completely throw aside my safety net and take a chance on him, to actually risk losing my heart to him.
But then I started to think of how I had felt when I thought he didn't want to be with me anymore, that slight feeling of panic, the gnawing in my stomach. These weren't good signs, I was certain, but maybe he was right. Maybe I was too afraid. Maybe Mike just made bad decisions, and Derek wouldn't do that to me.
Should I put my fears aside and take a chance on Derek?
All my conditioning prompted me to tell him no, but as I looked up into his intoxicating blue eyes, I realized my heart felt kind of funny, and the decision might not be entirely in my hands anymore.
Instead of giving him my consent to steal my heart, I said, "Promise me you won't hurt me."
He smiled down at me, making me feel like I could trust him if I would just stop resisting, and he leaned down to kiss me, murmuring against my lips, "I promise."