Protect Me Not ((Un)Professionally Yours 2)

“Honestly, I never wanted it. It always made me uncomfortable. But I didn’t want to toss their gesture back in their faces. I feel a lot better without it in my apartment. Anyway, you’ll be happy to know that I put up more of my photos. Some of the bleak stuff, they’ll always be a part of me. But also a few other—less desolate—photos that you haven’t seen yet.”

“What about the ones you sent me last week?”

“I didn’t want to hang any of you without your permission. And Skoobs—my therapist—warned me not to use you as some kind of stand-in for everyone I’ve lost. Basically, not to replace their pictures with too many pictures of you. You’re not going on that wall unless you want to. And even then, it’ll be only one or two pictures. I like the one of you dancing in the rain. And I—uh, really like the one Chance took of us. But I wanted you to be there when I hang those.”

She puffed air into her cheeks and pursed her lips, her eyes considering. “You’re assuming quite a lot, aren’t you?”

Panic flared in his eyes. “I’m sorry, I promised myself I wouldn’t rush you, or get ahead of myself. I understand if you want to take things slowly. Test the waters, so to speak. Which is why I thought we could date, you know? Like normal people.”

“Aah, yes, I’d nearly forgotten. You did ask me out earlier, didn’t you?” She laughed at the recollection, and he grimaced.

“I was nervous, I know I botched it.”

“I was too distracted by your crazy shirt and suspenders to really pay attention. Why don’t you ask me again?”

“I will but…do you still love me?” His question was rife with insecurity, self-doubt, and fear.

Vicki sighed, then smiled…and for the first time, she truly allowed herself to believe in this.

Believe in him.

“I don’t know how to stop loving you, Ty,” she confessed. “It’s become an unbreakable habit. Even when I was angry with you. When I was hurt, sad, dispirited, and disillusioned, I never, ever stopped loving you. I wanted to. I hoped that someday I would, but here I am, still loving you so much.’

“I don’t deserve it.” He sounded so contrite. But his statement bothered her, and she could not allow it to stand.

“You do. You deserve to love and be loved, Ty. You deserve a life filled with love and happiness. With friends and family.” She palmed his jaw and kissed him with all the love she had in her. His hands cupped the back of her head, fingers enmeshed in her curls. Holding her head still while their tongues shyly became reacquainted.

It was sweet, reverent, and gentle.

When they shifted apart with mutual contented sighs, he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. She toyed with his shirt buttons and chuckled throatily.

“Why are you wearing this ridiculous get up?” She felt his jaw move as he smiled.

“That dumb movie.”

“God, if that was your point of reference, I’m happy you didn’t go all out and grow a man bun and a hipster beard, as well.”

He laughed, and his arms tightened around her.

“I love you, honey,” he said that so easily now. “And I’d move heaven and earth for you…but if you ever want me to wear my hair in a man bun you will be testing that love to its very limits.”

She giggled and snuggled closer.

“I brought you flowers,” he pointed out, sounding much too pleased with himself.

“Oh, yes, speaking of testing our love to its very limits, how about you stop buying flowers from my competitors, Tyler?”

“I swear on my life, I’ll never do it again.”

“What present did you bring me?” she asked. He chuckled and leaned forward—taking her with him—to retrieve the gift.

He rested his cheek on her head, as she fumbled with the wrapping.

“It’s—uhm—it’s symbolic,” he muttered when she stared at the purple heart, now beautifully encased in a shadow box. “I’ve mostly recovered from the physical injury that led to my medical discharge. But the rest of my scars were mental and emotional. You helped me overcome so many of them…and I wanted to you to have that, because I’m not the same broken man you met a year and a half ago. I’m a work in progress… but I owe so much of that progress to you. This was the only way I could think of to thank you.”

“I can’t…Ty, I can’t accept this.”

“Why don’t you just take care of it for me, then?” he suggested. “You know it’ll just wind up in the junk drawer back at my place. That purple will match your tacky room perfectly.”

“Shut up, I’ll be changing that soon.”

“And I’ll help?”

“You’d better. I hate painting.”

“Vicki, you—”

“Knock knock!” Ty bit back a curse word at the cheerful male voice coming from the door. “Fair warning, I’m going to stick my head around this door now. I hope everybody is all decent and whatnot. Although, Ty, don’t rush to put on your shirt or anything…”