Sweet (Landry Family 6)

He rolls his eyes. “What do you think about that? Do you think you do that?”

Do I?

I take a long, deep breath and blow it out slowly. My heart beats faster than I’d like it to. It makes me nervous. Or maybe the nerves came first, and the erratic heartbeat is a reaction. I don’t know.

“If I do it, it’s not a conscious thing,” I say honestly. “I can’t deny the facts of the situation. It definitely looks like I pick the same type of guy repeatedly, and obviously, that doesn’t work out.”

“Why do you think you do that?”

“I don’t know,” I say, the answer almost a whine.

I don’t want to have this conversation with Nate. But I know that if I don’t give him this—open up to him—then he won’t open up to me. And if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the last eight months of working with Nate Hughes, it’s that I value his opinion. And right now, I need to know what he’s thinking.

“I don’t know if I believe in forever,” I say.

The words flow from my mouth well before I realize I’m going to say it. It’s like my guard slipped, and my brain took advantage of the moment.

The problem is that I’ve been mulling it over and over since Kinsley drove off earlier. What does forever look like? Is it really even feasible? Is it real?

Does love actually work that way?

I gulp. Would anyone ever want me for that long anyway?

Nate’s eyes widen. “Really? You don’t believe in forever?”

“Look, my life has been … a lot of things, okay? My first nine years were either a shit show or in foster care—which also was a shit show sometimes. And I’ve never seen anything that lasted forever. My parents didn’t love me forever. I haven’t had Hollis in my life forever. I haven’t had the Carmichaels either. I don’t even have a baby picture of me. So why should I buy into the idea that anything can last forever?”

I stand, needing to move. Nate watches me like a caged tiger.

“I’ve never been the little girl to imagine a big wedding or a houseful of kids,” I admit. “I just remember lying in a bedroom with blue-and-white checkered curtains and crying myself to sleep because I was alone. I felt detached from myself. I didn’t know the family downstairs, and Hollis, my protector, was gone. And I never wanted to feel that again.”

Nate’s face sobers. He continues to watch me pace the room. I move around until the hollowness in my chest starts to fill, and I can breathe easily again. Then I turn to look at him.

He’s so handsome. There’s a tenderness in his eyes that could elicit tears if I let it. I just want to hug him—to have him hold me, but I can’t do that.

Why would I do that? What would be the point? He’s not my type, which means letting him hold me would end in destruction. I know that. I can’t and won’t let him hurt me like that.

You don’t give them your heart … It’s why I pick the men I do.

“So maybe I do self-sabotage to avoid heartbreak.” I shrug. “What about you?”

“What about me?”

I wait until his eyes lock with mine.

“Why do you do one thing and then say another?” I ask. “That feels a little like self-sabotage too.”

He gets to his feet, running his hands down his thighs. “I’ll be really honest with you.”

“Please do.”

“I know what you’re getting at. I’ve given off mixed signals, and that’s not right.”

My heart thunders in my chest. I swear he can hear it.

“Paige, look …” He groans, running a hand through his hair. “My life is work and my kid. And my other part-time job at Landry Security. If I get serious about someone, it’s because I want forever with them.”

Oh.

“I’ve run around. I’ve dated. I’ve done all of it, and Ryder is seven now and impacted by all of that shit. And, quite frankly, I’m tired. I just want to settle down and maybe have another kid or two and build something together.”

“I can understand that,” I say, gulping a mouthful of hot saliva.

He steps toward me but stops. “I’m attracted to you. Clearly. Some days, it’s all I think about.”

Really? I shift my weight from one foot to the other.

“But here’s my conundrum—if something happens between us, it’s for naught. It’s only for a fleeting moment because I want forever, and you’re running from it,” he says, his words ringing with truth.

My spirits sink.

“And we can’t be a fleeting moment because if I touch you—really touch you, it would change things permanently.” He grins sadly. “I couldn’t stand to see someone else have you after that. We’d lose our friendship too. You’d have to get a new job. It would just suck.”