I needed her to believe in those words, believe in me. Now I had her, there was no way in hell I was letting go, and her running from me when times get rough was unacceptable.

I wasn’t naïve. I knew being with Molly was going to cause a bucket load of problems with my folks. Well, that’s if they ever found out, which I would avoid at all costs.

Still attempting to pull away, I put my mouth to her ear. “I won’t let you leave me.” All the fight drained from her small body. It was the first time I’d ever seen her heavy emotional guard crack.

Molly broke. The floodgates opened and she cried and cried, unable to stop for several minutes. I rocked her until her sobs died. It could’ve been minutes, hours, days, and when the only sounds were a few stuttered sighs or an odd sniffle, I asked, “Why did you run from Oxford to here?”

Her head pressed back into my chest, and I laid kiss after kiss on her forehead.

“Oliver wanted more from me. He stayed on to do his PhD and wanted to take things further. I didn’t—he knew nothing about me. I never told him.

“After we slept together, I knew I couldn’t do it anymore. I thought being intimate with him would help me get closer, that it would bring my walls crashing down. But all I felt was strangling disappointment. I thought I was unable to ever be close to another person again. In the end, I freaked. I ran. Simple. He woke up and I was gone. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

Knowing that some British punk bastard had my girl naked, pinned beneath him, him coming within her, made anger pulse in my veins. I couldn’t speak. It was like I was possessed, and for a moment, the severity of that possession scared me. The girl was friggin’ bewitching me.

By the fidgeting of Molly’s body, I knew she wanted me to say something, but I couldn’t, couldn’t cope with the thought of her with someone else. Eventually she settled down, accepting my inability to speak, and with a reassuring sigh, she confessed, “That was until you. I’m close to you. I let you in. Maybe I’m not as damaged as I thought.”

Jesus. Those words did something to me deep inside, like a bolt of electricity billowed through my body. She was close to me; she let me in. I was an undeserving motherfucker, completely worthless—I’d been told so all my life—but that only made what she said that much more special. To her, I was worthy.

Feeling on top of the world, I said gently, “You’re not the only one who feels like splitting when times get rough, baby, but from now on, I won’t let you run anywhere if I’m not right there running beside you.”

But then she asked about me, my family, and a jolt of panic ripped through me. How could I tell her my deal? It was beyond f**ked up, and I just couldn’t do it.

“We should go,” I ordered abruptly when I felt her grow cold and shiver with the evening breeze.

Stiffening, she protested. “I don’t want to leave yet. I want to know about you.”

But I didn’t want her to know, didn’t want her tarnished by that shit. Molly was now the one part of my life, besides football, my folks had no control over, and I’d be damned if I infected her with that poison.

I was done with any talk of my past, my folks. So pulling her up off the grass, I dodged her questions and led her in silence to the truck.

As I drove, my mind worked in overtime. I tried to find a reason why Molly would want to be with me, memories of my parents telling me how no one would ever love me circling my brain. She didn’t give a shit about my money, had no f**king clue about football, and even when she’d seen me play, still didn’t seem to care for all the hype. She didn’t give two shits about her social standing, didn’t care for popularity; she had her own mind, her own goals, none of which would be furthered by me. It only led me to one conclusion, but I just couldn’t bring myself to believe it.

“You okay? You seem miles away,” Molly asked, taking my hand, looking up at me with that beautiful, open face.

“Yeah.”

“You sure? You don’t look it.” Turning my head to meet her worried gaze, I couldn’t speak the words. Why do you want me? I’m not good enough for you. You should get out now before it’s too late.

“Rome, what is it?” she asked, this time with more insistence.

I cleared my throat and murmured, ashamedly, “I never knew before tonight what it felt like to be wanted… just me for me.” I saw the sadness creep onto her face, but I needed to know something for my sanity, so I asked, “What do you want me for, Mol? I’m trying to work it out.”