Page 38 of Lovesick (The Minnesota Mustangs #1)

“You told me about the scar on your chest. About your heart,” he informs.

The lightness of the situation vanishes in a millisecond, like a gale of wind whispering through a copse of cypresses. Sympathy etches into the worry lines of his face—an expression that wounds me every time I have to witness it, whether it’s from complete strangers or the people closest to me.

No. No, no, no. I—I didn’t want to tell him.

I didn’t want him to know. Why did you have to go and ruin everything, Merit?

This is all your fault. Look at the way he’s staring at you!

Like you’re a pathetic, cowardly animal that’s barely hanging on to life…

that needs to be killed because it’s the merciful thing to do.

A doe that’s been shot in the belly, bleeding out against freshly fallen snow, too weak to run from the guilt-stricken hunter who’s come to finish the job.

I don’t know what to say.

“I…”

His words wield a pain I know all too well. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Instead of giving him the honesty he deserves, I get defensive, backing away from him. “It’s a part of me that I don’t want people knowing about.”

“But I’m not just people , Merit.”

“Do you even realize how you’re looking at me right now?” I snap, the vulnerable side of me crawling back inside my skin—no matter how claustrophobic it is—because insecurity is somehow more manageable than judgment.

Crew rears back. “What? I’m not looking at you any differently.”

“Yes, you are.”

“So what? You kept it a secret from me because you thought I’d feel bad for you? How is that fair? You keep pigeonholing me into this stereotype when I’ve proven to you that I’m not the kind of person you think I am.”

“Why do you think you’re entitled to know everything about me? It’s not like we’re together, Crew.”

His throat works, and his frustration bellies up. “Yeah, I’m well aware of that.”

I don’t want to talk about this. Every conversation I have is always about what’s fucking wrong with me.

I don’t need to be reminded of it every second of the goddamn day.

Having a heart murmur and overcoming surgery isn’t inspiring—it’s a constant reminder that I’m always going to be more broken than the person next to me.

“Just drop it, okay? It’s not important.”

“Yeah, actually, it is. What if something bad had happened to you last night? What if you had a stroke or a heart attack, and I didn’t know what was wrong? What then?” Crew growls as anger threads through his shot voice.

His eyes are no longer a placid lake but a rip current that I’m powerless against, slamming my body every which way.

Electrical impulses fire in my brain, telling me to fight, fight, fight . “Something bad did happen last night, and now you know exactly what’s wrong with me.”

Every muscle in his torso is drawn taut, emphasized beneath the wet T-shirt that clings to him like Saran wrap. He’s trying his best to keep his composure, but I don’t miss the way he curls his fingers into a fist and then uncurls them .

“There’s nothing wrong with you.”

My indignation is noxious, waiting in the wings for me to lower my guard—waiting for that final curtain call to smoke out every good thing in my life. But what I hadn’t realized was that hurt had been germinating this whole time.

“I’ll never be… normal …okay? I’m going to be dependent on medication for the rest of my life. I’m going to be in and out of hospitals. Some days the pain will be so bad that I can’t do the things that other healthy people can.”

“And you think any of that influences how I feel about you?”

“Crew…”

“If something happened to you, Princess, I’d never forgive myself. So no, I don’t view you as some burden. I want to take care of you because I finally have someone to take care of.”

Finally has someone to take care of. Like he’s been waiting for me. Like he’s been put on this floating chunk of rock to keep me from destroying myself.

“I have sharp edges,” I tell him, my heart pinballing around in the alcove of my ribs as I give him one last opportunity to run and save himself.

But he doesn’t.

“I’ll never be afraid to hold you. Cut me. Drain me. My hands were only ever made for you.”

Nobody’s ever been made for me before. I always thought that I was unlovable.

People never got close to me because of my jagged exterior.

Even my parents wore padding to embrace me, but Crew is the only one who’s ever sacrificed the integrity of his arms to show me that I’m worthy of love.

Every part of me—the good, the bad, the ugly.

I shatter from the tiniest hairline fracture, shackled by his honest-to-God truth and left to fend off an army of emotions that I have no control over. They overpower me in an instant— concussive in their force—inspiring rivers of tears to carve pathways over the arcs of my cheekbones.

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m sorry for projecting.

I’m sorry for believing that you’d think so lowly of me.

I don’t deserve you,” I sob, pulling my knees into my chest and wishing I could rewind this entire day.

Crew is the last person I should be mad at.

It’s like he took a flight of arrows to the heart just so he could protect mine.

The softness of his voice quilts me in warmth. “You don’t need to apologize, and you deserve everything in this world, Merit. I’m determined to give it all to you, for however long you’ll have me.”

I still keep my limbs tucked in, not quite ready to unfurl before him. “I don’t want to be treated like some delicate flower.”

He isn’t dissuaded by my hesitation. In fact, he takes the first step in amending things by scooting the smallest bit closer to me.

“You’re anything but, okay? You’re the strongest, most resilient person I know.

I could never go through what you’ve gone through.

Honestly, I don’t know many people who could with the same grace you have. ”

God, why do you have to be so nice, Crew?

The tears are overspilling now, rubbing my skin raw and robbing me of a voice not perforated with cracks or hiccups. “I should’ve told you the truth, but I was afraid of scaring you away.”

Crew gives me a Seriously? look. “Princess, I just climbed through your window in the middle of a storm. I think you should be more worried about trying to get rid of me,” he jokes.

For the first time since I can remember, I don’t let grief shoehorn its way in.

I follow Crew’s lead and close the gap between our bodies, taking a wrecking ball to the defenses that have done nothing but isolate me this entire time.

Relegating myself to self-inflicted solitude isn’t a strategic safeguard…

it’s cowardice wrapped up in a deceivingly pretty bow.

“To be fair, I didn’t think you’d do it.”

“I kind of got the impression that your dad wouldn’t take kindly to me knocking on his door in the evening.”

“You’re not wrong,” I sigh, flaunting the reason behind this entire mess with a twitter of my fingers.

“This stupid ring alerts my parents when my heart rate is too high, and I guess all that drinking set it off. After they lost their shit on me, they gave me an ultimatum: either I move back home so they can monitor me more closely, or they stop paying for my college tuition. As you can see, I’m somewhat regretting my decision. ”

“Fuck, Mer. I’m so sorry. That’s not fair at all. I can’t believe your parents would be so…”

“Controlling?”

“Yeah.”

“They have a good way of hiding it,” I laugh humorlessly.

He perks up, and I can practically see the gears in his head turning. “I know something that can take your mind off everything.”

Uh-oh. That sounds…surprisingly unsuggestive. It does sound dangerous though. Crew can’t stay in my room. I can’t leave.

I titter. “What? Are you going to jailbreak me out of here?”

Crew leans in far enough to cup my face in his hands, the chill from his palms zapping aftershocks through my body. If we were chest to chest, there’s no doubt that he would feel the unabashed sprinting of my heart.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do,” he insists with far too much confidence.

Does he want to send my father into cardiac arrest?!

My heart is fully freaking out now. If I don’t get my hormones in check, this ring is going to give me away faster than Crew can swan-dive out of my window .

“Crew, you’re playing with fire.”

A knee-weakening smile splits his lips. “Baby, that’s my favorite pastime.”

I’m beginning to think that Crew is doing some crazy witchcraft on the side because not only did he manage to convince me to climb out my window but also to sneak into the hockey rink on a weekend. Pre-Crew Merit would be clutching her pearls.

I left my phone in my room so my parents couldn’t track my location, and as an added precaution, I became a twenty-something cliché by stuffing two pillows underneath my sheets as a decoy.

Why does Crew have a key to the rink? I don’t know, but I’m too afraid to ask questions.

Normally, I’d be against disobeying my parents’ wishes, but after the fight we had, I’m done blindly following their rules when they have no regard for how it affects me. Not to mention that an afternoon with Crew trumps doomscrolling on my phone.

The air in the rink is exceptionally cold, even with Crew’s spare hoodie thrown over me. I cling to the boards as my legs wobble with uncertainty, a nervous sweat beading on my upper lip despite the chill from the set temperature.

“This is your great distraction?” I mutter, trying to quell the shiver that ripples down my spine.

“It beats being trapped in your room, doesn’t it?”