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“Do you love me?”

Julia asked the question as soon as they both took a seat. She’d decided her best bet was bluntness. Not only was she no good at beating around the bush, but she was done trying to wade through all the words that seemed to lay unspoken between them.

Time to put all my cards on the table and let the chips fall where they may.

Britt went completely still. The only things that moved on him were his rapidly blinking eyes. “Why would you ask me that?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” She rolled her eyes. “Maybe because you did the one thing my family most needed when I was in the hospital. You took care of my house and my pets.” She motioned over her shoulder toward the cabinet. “Or maybe because you took the time to figure out which Star Wars action figures I’m missing. Or maybe because you’ve been stalking me for months.”

Britt’s face twisted into that half-frown. “I don’t like to think of it as stalking.”

“No?” She raised an eyebrow. “What would you call it then?”

“Covertly observing?”

“Bullshit,” she scoffed, intentionally using one of his favorite words. “Try again.”

“Fine.” He sighed heavily. “I was stalking you. But only to make sure you didn’t go and fall for some asshat the likes of Chaz of the double-shot espressos. How was your date, by the way?”

“Why do you care who I date?” She avoided his question.

“Because I like you. I want what’s best for you. Chaz doesn’t fit that bill.”

“I don’t need another older brother looking out for me,” she told him with a sniff. Silently, she added, I just need you, you big dolt. Can’t you see you need me too?

“How was your date?” he asked again. The jealousy in his voice was undeniable. It almost made her smile. Almost.

“It was nice.” She drew the last word out just to see him squirm. She could be a sadist when she wanted to be. “Chaz is a decent guy despite his annoyingly perfect looks. Unfortunately, when he kissed me good night, there wasn’t even the hint of a spark.”

Britt’s face darkened. “He kissed you?”

“Stop changing the subject and answer my question.” She pointed a finger at his nose. “Do you love me?”

She watched his jaw tighten, the muscles working overtime. His lips pressed into such a thin line that it occurred to her he might choose not to answer her at all.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe I should have taken a more circuitous route instead of getting right to the point.

But then Britt spoke, and his words left her breathless.

“I’ve spent so many nights wishing I was different. Wishing I wasn’t afraid of love. But I am. And that fear, as much as I hate it, will keep me from taking the steps I know you need a partner to take. You deserve more than hesitation and doubt, Julia. You deserve a love as boundless and fearless as your heart.”

He loves me , she thought, a kind of wild relief filling up all the empty spaces inside her. He hadn’t said it. Not outright. But his words revealed what was in his heart, nonetheless.

He loved her. And yet, fear held him back from accepting that love.

She drew in a shaky breath, forcing her emotions under control. Her biggest question had been answered. But his response left her standing at the edge of a new one.

Tread lightly , she silently coached herself, feeling like Britt was a wild mustang—all raw power and deep scars. If she weren’t careful, she’d spook him, and he’d bolt. If that happened, she might never get the chance to catch him again.

“You know,” she started slowly, “one of my mom’s favorite sayings is that if your dreams don’t scare you, they’re too small.”

A forlorn smile played at his lips. “Your mom is something else. I can see where you get it from.”

“Get what?”

“All that toughness and tenacity. The way she bosses around your father and brothers is something to see. And the way they jump to do whatever she tells them tells me that, despite the men in your family looking like they could each bench press a Buick, she’s the one with the real strength.”

It warmed her heart that he’d quickly homed in on the truth of her family dynamic. But she wasn’t surprised. Britt was highly perceptive.

He’s also highly skilled at changing the subject.

“Why are you afraid of love?” She was careful to keep her tone calm and gently curious. “In the alley yesterday, you said you know what it’s like to love someone and lose them. You said you know what it’s like to be the reason they’re gone. What did you mean by that?”

He swallowed jerkily and smoothed Ren’s silky ears when the dog, having sensed Britt’s sadness, laid his big blockhead on Britt’s lap, slobbery stuffed rabbit and all.

Britt’s voice, when it came, was filled with pain. “My mother died in childbirth with me.”

Julia had to fight to hold back her gasp of surprise and horror. His file indicated he’d lost both parents at a young age. But it’d been light on the specifics.

“How awful,” she whispered.

“She had an amniotic fluid embolism,” he continued. “That’s when some of the amniotic fluid leaks out of the placenta during birth and enters the mother’s bloodstream. It causes all sorts of problems. But in my mother, it caused cardiac arrest.”

It took everything she had not to reach for his hand. Not to rise from her seat so she could fold him into a hug. But she couldn’t make a wrong move. She couldn’t do or say anything that might make him run.

So all she did was tell him sincerely, “I’m so sorry, Britt,” even though the words seemed too small to encompass the depths and breadths of her sympathy.

The pain she saw in his eyes when his gaze found hers was enough to have her gripping the stem of her wineglass so hard she thought it a wonder it didn’t shatter. “You know the layman’s phrase for amniotic fluid embolism?” he asked.

She wasn’t sure her voice would work over the lump in her throat. So she simply shook her head.

“Anaphylactic syndrome of pregnancy. My birth caused her body to have a deadly allergic reaction.”

“Britt—”

“My dad did his best to step up,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard her interruption. “He tried to be the father and the mother to me and Knox. But he was a man’s man, rough around the edges. Even though he loved us with everything he had, he mostly left us to run wild. That’s probably why Knox and I are the way we are—thrill-seekers and risk-takers. Without the gentling influence of a woman, we never developed our softer sides.”

That’s not true , she wanted to tell him. She’d seen his softer side that night at the cabin. She’d never had a more tender, thoughtful, thorough lover.

But she didn’t want to interrupt him now that he was sharing. So she took a slow sip of wine to drown the words perched on the back of her tongue.

“I prided myself on being a daredevil. I loved highlining and dirt biking and bungee jumping. When I was fifteen, I broke my arm trying to impress a group of girls at the skate park. It was a bad break. A compound fracture.”

He lifted the sleeve on his T-shirt—this one was army green, snug around his biceps, and printed with a black Avengers logo. He pointed to the white scar on the inside of his upper arm.

“It took a trip to the ER and an emergency surgery to set it,” he continued. “My dad was a dockhand who worked at the harbor. Health insurance was hit-and-miss for us. And it just so happened we were in a miss year. Dad had let the policy lapse so he could afford Knox’s college tuition.”

“How much?” she asked, knowing where this tale was headed. No one could deny the problems with the American healthcare system no matter which side of the political divide they landed on.

“Twenty-four-thousand dollars,” Britt said.

“Good lord.” She breathed, shaking her head at the injustice of it all.

“Anyway, fast-forward a few weeks, and Dad starts feeling sick. He loses his appetite, and his skin is itchy. But he doesn’t go to the doctor because we can’t afford it, right?” The agony on his face had her heart cracking right in two. “A year later, he was dead.”

“What was it?” Her voice was hoarse.

“Pancreatic cancer.”

She closed her eyes as the air leaked from her lungs. She’s read how wretched that disease could be.

“I’m so sorry, Britt,” she said again. And again, the words seemed too trite.

“Knox quit college to come home and take care of me,” he continued. It was like, now that he’d determined to give her details, he wanted to get through them as quickly as possible. “He said he’d rather have his bare nuts dragged across hot asphalt than let me go into the foster care system. But money was scarce, and rent was expensive. He ran into a guy who told him he could make some quick cash by stealing a car and the rest”—his eyes once more met hers; she had to grit her teeth not to flinch at the pain she saw in them—“is history.”

Ren whined pitifully. He was such a sensitive little soul. Britt looked down to find the dog’s melting brown eyes glued to his face.

“I know, pal.” He fluttered the pitbull’s floppy ears. “It’s a sad tale.”

“Bye, bitch!” Gunpowder squawked from his perch on the coat-tree.

Britt’s lips twisted and he shook his head. “Is that my cue to leave?”

Julia ignored his question as she arranged her thoughts. As she carefully worked through all he’d told her and all the ways she could convince him that his past didn’t have to be the reason he didn’t grab onto his present with both hands.

“So…” she started slowly. “You feel responsible for your parents’ deaths and your brother’s path in life? You feel like—” She stopped and tilted her head before continuing. “What? You feel like everyone you love comes to a bad end, so it’s better just not to love?”

His bearded chin bobbed. “Pretty much.”

“Well, that’s just boloney.”

He blinked, taken aback by her bluntness.

“Women die in childbirth all the time, Britt. Pregnancy and birth are inherently dangerous. Surely you don’t blame other infants for what happens to their mothers, right? So why would you blame yourself?”

“I—”

She barreled on, refusing to let him interrupt. “Pancreatic cancer is almost always fatal. From everything I’ve read, most people don’t realize they have it until it’s in its advanced stages. It wouldn’t have mattered if your dad had gone to the doctor when he first started feeling sick. His fate was already sealed.”

“But—”

“And as for your brother,” she continued despite his attempt at protest. “Maybe he got into a life of crime out of desperation to keep food on the table and keep you out of foster care. But he continued doing it because he liked it. Because something about it feeds his need for speed, so to speak. And that has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

He breathed quickly, his eyes wide on her face as if it were the first time anyone had ever told him these truths. As if it were the first time he’d even contemplated them.

As a talented interrogator— even if I do say so myself —she knew when to press her advantage.

“We cannot protect ourselves from pain, Britt. We cannot protect ourselves from loss. To live is to suffer and lose. But the love we experience, the people who come into our paths and make our journeys sweeter, that is what life is all about. It’s the reason for living.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat.

Her voice was softer, gentler, as she continued. “You think you’re not brave. But do you know what kind of courage it takes to say all the things you just said? To admit your fears out loud? Most people don’t even have the guts to face them, let alone speak them.”

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, his fingers still absently stroking Chewy’s dome. “It’s not the same. Words are easy. Actions...that’s where I fall short.”

“Not true.” She leaned forward, her elbows resting on the tabletop. “You’ve shown me love in a hundred ways without even realizing it. The little things you’ve done, the way you’ve been there when I needed you, when my family needed you…those aren’t the actions of someone who falls short.”

He shook his head, his jaw tightening. “That’s not enough. You deserve someone who can give you everything. Someone who doesn’t hold back.”

She bit her lip, considering her next move. She couldn’t let him keep retreating into his doubts, but she also couldn’t push too hard. He was like a puzzle—complex, intricate, and worth every second it took to figure him out.

“I don’t need everything , you big idiot,” she said quietly. “I just need you. Flaws, fears, and all. You think I’ve got it all figured out? I haven’t. I’m scared too. Scared of taking a chance on something real, something that could hurt if it goes wrong. But I’m more scared of not taking that chance. Of letting you walk away because you think you’re not enough when you’re everything I want.”

His eyes met hers then, and she saw the conflict there—the hope battling with the doubt, the love warring with the fear. He looked like a man standing on the edge of a cliff, unsure whether to leap or retreat.

It was time for the finishing blow. “I love you, Britton Daniel Rollins. I think I’ve loved you since the moment I walked into Eliza’s ER suite and you sneered at me and Dillan and said, ‘Oh, joy. The fuck-up fairies are here.’”

He winced. “You heard that?”

“Hate to be the one to break it to you, but your voice carries.” She wrinkled her nose. “And I don’t think you were actually trying to keep your opinion to yourself.”

“Julia...” he began, his throat thick with emotion.

She cut him off by standing and walking over to his chair. Placing a hand on his shoulder, feeling the muscles automatically tense at her touch, she said, “Don’t. Don’t talk yourself out of this. Out of us. Because if you think I’m letting you walk away without a fight, you don’t know me as well as I thought.”

For a moment, the room was silent except for the crackle of the fire in the hearth and the click-clack of Ren’s claws on the hardwood floor as he vamoosed himself into the living room, having determined Julia was ready to take his place as Britt’s comforter.

“Do you love me?” she asked again. “Just answer the question honestly.”

Slowly, tentatively, Britt reached for her hand. His grip was warm and steady despite the storm of uncertainty she knew raged inside him.

“I love you so much I can barely breathe. But I’m terrified,” he admitted, his voice hardly above a whisper.

“So am I.” She squeezed his warm, callused fingers as her heart grew three sizes. “But let’s be terrified together and see how it goes. What do you say?”

“Hew told me if I don’t heal all that’s hurt inside me, I’ll bleed out on those who didn’t cut me.” His tone was tinged with desperation. “I don’t want to bleed out on you.”

“The only person you’re bleeding out on at the moment is yourself. And as for healing the hurt inside? Let me help you. Let me show you how good life can be when you let love in. When you let it fill up and smooth over all those empty and wounded places inside you.”

For the first time that night, she saw a spark of something other than fear in his eyes.

It was hope. Tentative hope. But hope all the same.