Dawson
I had managed to get through the game, introduce Mickie to Parker, and survive dinner without having the Showdown of the Century with her in the middle of the restaurant. I appreciated her putting on a good face and not making a scene in front of Parker.
Oh, but the glares she kept shooting my way told me it was coming.
We’re talking murderous daggers she was repeatedly stabbing me with.
Over and over again.
“Pull over at this rest stop,” she said in a low voice.
Apparently, the showdown was happening now. I was hoping we’d make it back to Baltimore before we had to do this.
“It’s after midnight,” I said. “I’m not pulling into a sketchy-looking rest stop along a dark highway this late at night.”
“Pull. Over.”
Oo-kay.
I pulled into a parking spot and braced myself. My mind was flitting over things to say, explanations to give, when she flew out the door and slammed it behind her.
Guess we were doing this outside.
I followed slowly, waiting to hear how badly I’d screwed up.
She was pacing, kicking at the gravel on the asphalt. “I can’t believe you acted like that earlier,” she hissed.
My jaw hardened. “I’m sorry.”
Her head jerked up, piercing me with her fury. “No, you’re not. Because you don’t seem to understand why I’m so angry.”
“Because I wouldn’t let you be around my mother,” I said cautiously.
“That’s only part of it,” she snapped. She stomped over and poked me hard in the chest. “The real issue is the fact that you still won’t open up to me about the things you’re hiding. Whatever secrets you’re keeping, they’re still locked up in a vault. Apparently, you haven’t listened to a word I’ve said over the past few months.”
I breathed through my nostrils, trying to keep myself in check. “I’ve told you things.”
She held her arms out at her sides. “Yeah, you’ve told me how proud you are of Parker for getting a baseball scholarship. And what a gifted artist Mason is. But you haven’t told me anything about you. I know very little about your life before I met you.”
I mirrored her stance and threw my arms out. “What is there to know?”
Now, she crossed her arms. “Well, for starters, you have parents. Why don’t you ever talk about them? Why couldn’t I talk to your mom? What was growing up in D.C. like? What were you like as a kid? A teenager? These are all things a girlfriend should know.”
“Why?” I asked, my voice rising. “Why can’t we just say everything before I met you doesn’t matter? Because my life began the day I met you, Mick. None of that other shit is relevant to you and me.”
Her eyebrows drew together, looking as if I’d hurt her feelings. I didn’t want that.
“You still don’t get it,” she whispered, stepping closer to me. “I love you, Dawson. I care about you. That means I want to know why there are shadows in your eyes every time your family is mentioned, or your past.” Pain slammed into my chest. “I want to know why you hardly laughed or smiled when I first met you. And I want to know why you sometimes have nightmares that wake you up in a cold sweat.”
It felt like I couldn’t breathe.
The words she wanted to hear just weren’t there.
Her face softened. “I see all of that, and I want to take it away. I want to ease your pain. And talking about it with someone can help. At the very least, it would help me understand you a little better.”
I ignored the sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. “My background isn’t who I am, Mick. What happened back then, it’s in the past where it should stay. Forever.”
She watched me for several seconds, assessing me. Eventually, she gave a curt nod. “Then I’m done.”
I froze. “You’re done with what?”
Her expression looked defeated, weary. Not a good sign.
“Done with us.”
What? Was she serious?
“Because I don’t want to tell you about my childhood, you’re going to throw everything we have away?”
She pointed at me. “No, you’re throwing everything away, Dawson. By not allowing me in. Allowing me to know you. You haven’t opened yourself up to anyone in your entire life. Clearly, I’m no different. I’m just like every other person to you, so what’s the point in drawing out the inevitable. You’re never going to give me what I want.”
No, no, no.
She had it all wrong.
She was different. She was special. She was everything.
Tell her that. She has to know.
“And I can’t be with someone who obviously doesn’t love me enough to want to do that.” She shrugged. “So, I’m out. I’ll get my stuff out of your place tonight. And I’ll leave you to wallow in your misery all alone for the rest of your life.” She turned back for the truck.
This could not be happening.
I was supposed to marry this girl.
I couldn’t let her just walk out of my life.
What the hell was I doing?
I reached out and grabbed her arm. “Mickie, wait—”
“For what?”
God, she sounded so…broken.
Her eyes were drawn and sad when she looked up. “Because I feel like all I’ve been doing is waiting. Waiting for things to change, but they haven’t. And you just told me they won’t. So, there’s nothing left to wait for.”
She tried to move, but I maintained my grip. I worked my throat, finding the nerve—the courage—to unburden myself. To lay everything at her feet like she needed me to.
This was so much harder than I’d expected it to be.
“I love you,” I whispered. “So much. I want to be with you.”
Her expression didn’t change. “This is exactly how we’ve ended this same conversation countless times before. You apologizing and telling me you love me, and I give in. But it’s different this time. I won’t allow it to end the same way. It’s over.”
It couldn’t be over.
I could not lose her.
Fucking do something.
“Please, Mickie.”
She wasn’t listening.
“Just give me more time to work through this.”
She reached for the door handle, still ignoring my pleas.
What was it going to take to make her stay?
You know what it will take.
But I couldn’t do that.
She will walk out of your life if you don’t.
Unacceptable.
“Our father hit us.”
Her body stilled, her hand frozen on the handle.
I took her other hand and fell to my knees. I needed her love and her mercy, and I was prepared to beg for them. If keeping my past to myself meant I would truly not get to keep her forever, then I would tell her every fucking thing.
“He beat us, Mick,” I said, my stilted words barely above a whisper. “Whenever he was mad. He started with our mom, then he turned to me. But he didn’t stop there. He eventually turned his fists on my brothers.”
She was so quiet, but I couldn’t look at her.
Tears swam in my eyes as I recalled so many horrible memories of a life I wish I could have forgotten. I hadn’t cried since…I was a kid?
“I’d have to listen to them call out for me when he started in on them because I was already down on the floor, broken and bleeding.” I heard her gasp, but I pushed on. “I couldn’t help them. Not until I got older and bigger. Then Sal had a harder time beating up on me because I would fight back.” I closed my eyes. “But I can still hear them calling for me in my dreams. Begging me to protect them.”
She sniffed. “Oh, Dawson…”
I couldn’t stop.
Had to get it all out or she wouldn’t be mine.
“Mom tried to stop him, but she could only take so much,” I continued. “She turned to pain killers and muscle relaxants after all the beatings. After a while she…she couldn’t stop taking them. She was no longer our mom after that. She was just this empty shell who always slept on the couch and smelled like cigarettes. We had to fend for ourselves, in every way. Money, food, clothing. Everything.”
Her hand touched my head, cradling it lovingly. Her presence helped me finish saying the rest.
“I’ve never wanted to tell you all of this because I didn’t want you to see this side of me.”
Her hand stilled. “What side?”
I gritted my teeth, hating to admit the truth. “The side that…hates.” I looked up at her, feeling desperate. For what, I wasn’t sure. “I hate him, Mick. So much. I hate him for what he did to us, especially my brothers. Mason started doing fucking drugs because of him. Because he needed an escape from all of it. I never wanted you to see me,” I held out my hands, my head falling forward, “like this.”
I heard her lower herself to her knees. She took my face in her hands, and forced me to look at her. “But this is you, Dawson,” she said. There was more life in her voice now than there was before. There was determination. “For the first time since I met you I feel like I’m finally seeing all of you. The real you. This is what I wanted.”
“But I’m fucked up,” I choked out. “I’ve got so much anger inside me, I don’t even know how to deal with it most of the time. And I don’t want to bring you down with any of this. You’re too good to be dragged into…my hate. Stuff like this should never touch you.”
She had tear tracks down her cheeks. She lifted my hand in hers and kissed my fingers. “Baby, you’re not going to scare me away with any of this. I promise. My parents are in prison. My mom used to turn tricks in our apartment. I’ve seen my share of darkness, and I have my own hate inside me. But together, we can heal each other.”
Those might have been the scariest words she’d ever said to me.
“What if I can’t heal you?” I managed. “What if I’m beyond hope and I can’t be healed?”
She pulled our faces closer together, making sure I kept her eye contact. “Everyone can be healed. And there’s always hope. There’s a reason we’re together, Dawson. I think this is why. Because we need each other.”
I couldn’t help it anymore.
I kissed her.
I needed to feel the connection we had. Needed to feel that spark jumpstart my heart back to life. Resuscitate me. Make me whole again. Only she could ever do that.
And right now, I needed her to help me put all the pieces back together.
I reached in my pocket and pulled out the ring, clenching it in my fist.
I wasn’t sure if now was the right time. I would never really know when it was. And if I waited too long, it would end up passing me by.
And I had to hear those words from her right now.
I was desperate for proof—reassurance—that she wasn’t going to leave me when I messed up again. That she was willing to fight through the good times and the bad because she loved me too much to be without me.
Because that’s exactly how I felt about her.
I held my fist out in front of her, drawing her attention to it—and opened my hand.
She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth, as more tears left her eyes.
“I’m not good with words,” I said, my heart beating out of control. I didn’t know what I’d do if she said no. “Clearly.”
We both had it in us to chuckle at that.
“You probably think I’m insane for doing this right after a fight.” She smiled and wiped her tears away. “But I need to make sure you know how serious I am about us. How hard I’m willing to try to be better for you. I want to give you everything you want. If that means telling you every little detail about my life from start to finish, I’ll do it. Because this,” I held up the ring, “is what I want. And I want it always and forever.”
She watched as I took her hand, and slowly eased the ring onto her finger.
It looked fucking perfect there.
I drew her attention back to me. “Marry me, Mickie. Give me a chance to be the man you want me to be. And I promise, I’ll never stop trying to give you everything you want. Let me be your husband.”
She threw her arms around my neck. “You already are the man I want you to be. And you’ve already given me all that I could ever want.”
I waited. “So, does that mean—?”
“Which is why I’m saying yes.”
My heart skyrocketed into the air. “You are?”
She smiled, nodding. “Make me your wife, Dawson Cruz.”
If a meteor had hit the earth at that very second, I would have died a happy man. A fucking ecstatic man.
I crushed her lips under mine.
Again, I wasn’t sure if it was the right time, but I needed to feel her everywhere and all over. Touch her in places that made her gasp, and lick her in places that made her squirm. Her moans had me hard as a rock in about two seconds.
“I need to fuck you,” I said on a groan. “Soon. Like, now.”
She laughed. “And you said you didn’t have a way with words.”