“You know what you should do, Grant?” She gets on her knees and faces me, staring into my eyes. The red, puffy hazel ones I see punch me in the gut. “Let me in,” she says, clearly angry. “Do you have any idea what it took for me to open up to you?” I know I can’t fault her for being mad. She’s right.

“It’s hard for me, Jessa. I didn’t have a great example of how to show your feelings like you did,” I say, trying to keep my voice calm.

“Grant, do you love me?” she asks. The fact that she might be doubting my love for her makes me want to kick my own ass.

“I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it,” I assure her.

“Then please. Let. Me. In.” She scoots my way, placing her hands over mine.

“I’m trying, really I am. Please, just have some patience with me,” I plead with her.

“Okay, Grant, but never do that to me again,” she says. “Never make me doubt you again. I felt as though this whole weekend was just another reason to get in my pants. I know I have my own insecurities, but don’t play me.” She climbs into my lap.

“Believe me, Jessa, I’m not playing you,” I honestly answer her. “Not even close.”

Jessa

I let him hold me in his arms. Although he’s still keeping so much of himself hidden from me, I can’t help the feeling of safety and security he brings over me. It just scares me that his hesitation in sharing means he isn’t as vested in this relationship as I am. He starts kissing behind my ear, knowing it drives me crazy. The chills move fast across my body, but I refuse to have sex with him tonight. I have to guard myself too, and I’m not going to let him use me like Jason did.

He lays me down on my bed and starts to kiss me. “I promise, Jessa, I love you,” he murmurs against my lips. I’m nestled between his arms as he lies on top of me, giving me short kisses along my jaw and chin. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers. “So much that I can’t believe your mine.” His tongue licks down my throat and his hands start roaming up my shirt.

“Glad to see you were able to talk yourself back into her bed,” Dex teases, walking past the door. Grant gets up to shut the door.

“Mind your own business, Dex,” he shouts.

“Shut your fucking door,” he yells back, and Grant laughs, slamming the door shut before coming back to me.

By the time he gets to the bed, I know in my heart that I can’t let this go any longer. I wish I could give him the time he wants, but I can’t continue to put my heart on the line without him doing the same.

“Grant,” I sigh, staring at him with pleading eyes, “I’m sorry. I’m trying, but it terrifies me that I’m just going to get hurt again. That one day you’ll walk away from me and I’ll be crushed.” I sit up, crossing my legs. He sits down on the edge of the bed, resting his head in his hands.

“I’m terrified of the same thing,” he reveals to me. “My past, Jessa, it’s not something I like to talk about. I’ve failed people, people I loved.” He doesn’t lift up his head and I place my hand on his shoulder, hoping it will encourage him to continue.

“Grant, you can tell me. I love you and nothing will change that,” I say sympathetically.

He remains still and quiet, and I wonder if he’s ever going to trust me enough to share his secrets. The silence in the room starts to make it feel small and confined. He picks his head up and studies my face before placing his palm on my cheek. The puddles of water that have formed in his eyelids are evident, and I suddenly fear that this might be something I won’t be able to handle. Not to mention, it might break the man I love in the process.

“Promise me, Jessa? Promise you won’t leave me when you hear it,” he asks of me quietly, and I nod my head.

“Never,” I promise him, reaching my hand up to meet his. I tangle our fingers together and hold them in my lap, scooting next to him.

He takes a deep breath and I notice he’s summoning every ounce of courage he has to divulge this. I squeeze his hand harder and he finally looks at me. His blue eyes find mine and he begins speaking with sadness. “You know my mom died when I was fourteen.” I nod and slowly rub my other hand on top of our joined hands.

“It was a long and painful sickness for her. She was first diagnosed when I was ten. My mom used to wait for me at the bus stop and walk me home after school, asking about my day. A snack would be waiting for me, and I sat and did my homework while she would make dinner. After she got sick, things changed. I started walking home alone, letting myself in the house. I’d grab a snack and head to my room alone, because she was usually in bed, either sick or asleep. A few times I came home to find her on the floor of the bathroom with her head in the toilet. Mrs. Carsen would take her back and forth to chemo, and sometimes Brady would take the bus home with me and his mom would make dinner for my dad and me.” He pauses, taking another deep breath, and my heart breaks for him.

“She beat it though, and my dad took us on vacation to celebrate. Just like that, I had my life back again. She was happy, my dad was happy, we were all happy. Then a year later, it came back, and devastation doesn’t even come close to describing the way we felt. My mom quickly spun into a depression, but after about a month, she became optimistic that she’d beat the fucking disease again. But eventually, she ended up in a hospital bed in our family room anyway.

I remember coming home from school and the nurse would have a snack ready for me and I would eat it by her bed, talking about my day. She always seemed so hopeful that she would get better and everything would go back to normal again. Since she believed it, I did too. About a month before she died, I noticed a shift in her though. She finally gave herself up to the cancer. She wasn’t angry anymore, but seemed content instead. I pulled away, unable to accept the fact that she was ultimately going to die. I would retreat to my room a lot, or go over to Brady’s. Anything not to deal with the inevitable future.” He shakes his head with obvious regret.

“You were young, Grant,” I console him, willing my tears back. I need to be strong for him right now.

“It doesn’t make it right. I lost so much time with her because I was so fucking selfish.” He pulls his hand away, but I grab it back. He looks at me, surprised, and I’m starting to see why he’s always so guarded with his feelings.

“You don’t have to finish…” He cuts me off by placing his finger to my lips.

“It’s okay, you deserve to know. So…it was Saturday and I wanted to go to this birthday party. I knew her time was coming. She’d become frail and weak, barely conscious some of the time. Mostly she slept in the bed, and the nurses came in and out, taking care of her. My dad told me he didn’t want me to go, that he wanted me to stay at home, but I pushed to go anyway. Eventually, my mom told him to take me so my dad got his keys. He kissed my mom’s forehead goodbye and we left. I only gave my mom a wave from the doorway.” He wipes a tear from his eye. “No ‘I love you’ or goodbye kiss…just a fucking wave from the doorway.”

“I’m sure she understood, Grant. You can’t beat yourself up.” I release his hand, wrapping my arms completely around his shoulders.

“I went to the party,” he continues, completely disregarding my words. “Mrs. Carsen picked me and Brady up. She brought us back to the house and we arrived right as the ambulance was taking her away on the stretcher, her body covered by a white sheet. I ran screaming but my dad caught me before I could get to her. The startled paramedics loaded her into the ambulance, and I watched it drive away, no lights or sirens needed. I cried in my dad’s arms while he whispered for me to calm down.

After that day, my dad and I slowly drifted apart. She purposely overdosed while we were gone. He blamed me from that day forward, and for good reason. If I hadn’t been so selfish, who knows how many more days we would’ve had with her?”