Page 67 of Let You Love Me

He stares at me like I’m a new discovery under a microscope he wants to study. Like he wants to pick my brain until he’s memorized every nook and cranny, every thought. “Do you know how incredible you are?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” I keep my tone light, shifting attention to my peeling nail polish. “I just did what anyone else would do.”

“No.” He shakes his head, his tone firm. “Not everyone would make the choice you did, and even if they did, it doesn’t mean they’d be the person you are, the mother you are. Do you ever give yourself any credit?”

I glance up at him, mouth gaping.

“I’ll take that as a no.” Reaching between us he takes my hand in his and threads our fingers together.

My stomach plunges like a diving swan. I contemplate his long fingers, the strong masculine hand wrapped in mine, and the rough feel of calluses sends my heart racing all over again.

“Lane, look at me,” he says, and there’s no arguing his tone. It’s a deep baritone, a command.

I glance up at him and hold my breath, afraid for reasons I can’t comprehend.

“You’re an amazing woman.” He draws tiny circles on the back of my hand in a dizzying rhythm. “And an amazing fucking mother. What you’ve done with your life, with Sophie, is nothing short of incredible. What you did was brave and hard, and you should be fucking proud. Don’t dim your light just so you can be at everyone else’s level.”

I swallow.Breathe.“Okay.”

His eyes narrow. “No. Not justokay. I want to hear you say it like you fucking mean it. Repeat after me: I, Lane Turner, am fucking proud.”

“Teagan—”

He cuts me off with a glare so sharp, I inhale and mutter, “I, Lane, Turner am fucking proud.”

“Good. Now say, ‘I am a fucking amazing mother.’”

“I am an amazing mother.”

“No.” He shakes his head and his whole body vibrates. “Fuckingamazing.”

My lips quirk. “I am afuckingamazing mother!” I yell, and a laugh bursts out of my chest.

Teagan grins. “Good.”

His gaze dips to my mouth. “I’m sexy.”

“Are you making a statement or—”

When he glares, I snap my mouth closed, but I can’t hide the smile lifting my lips as I drawl, “I’m sexy.”

“Fuck, yes, you are.” Our eyes lock and my smile fades. “And smart.”

“And smart,” I repeat, heart pounding as his thumb continues its dizzying rhythm over my skin.

“A hard-ass worker,worthyin every single way, and I deserve every fucking amazing thing this world has to offer.”

I swallow. “A hard-ass worker,worthyin every single way, and I deserve every fucking amazing thing this world has to offer.”

Like you.

He holds my gaze for several tense moments before he finally smiles. “Good. After I leave, write that down, and then repeat it to yourself every night before you go to bed, and every morning when you wake up. And if for one fucking second, you start to doubt yourself or question how completely and utterly fucking perfect you are, you say it some more. It’s your new mantra, Turner. You hear me?”

“I hear you,” I say because it’s the only words my mouth is capable of forming.

“And don’t let anyone ever tell you otherwise.” He glances down at the watch strapped to his wrist while I stare, lost in him and his words and the way they make me feel.

“Shit. I should go.”