Page 16 of Marrying the Gardener (The Bachelor Brothers #3)

Sobbing as the knife slips from my fingers, I croak, “You’re doing…

great.” I sniffle, crumpling against my bed, kneeling with my face against the destroyed pillow.

“So… great . Thank you. For all the time and effort you’ve…

put into this. I don’t…” My throat hurts.

“I don’t think I can handle anything else tonight. I need some time by myself, I think.”

Knees hit the ground beside me, and arms close in, dragging my frail body into a warm embrace.

Every muscle in me revolts, hating my weakness, hating that I even need comfort .

It’s only when Kaleb’s voice cracks that I stop myself from shoving out of his arms. “My parents…” he says, clutching me, “they’d beat me.

Sometimes, because I messed up. Sometimes… just for kicks. I don’t know.”

Is this a your life’s not that bad story? Because my knife’s still in reach.

“I hate ,” he hisses, “seeing others used and controlled like this. It reminds me of them. It reminds me of how cruel they could be. When I look at you in these moments, I can’t take it .

It’s like looking in a mirror after being pummeled.

It’s like seeing my black eyes and busted lips and knowing I won’t be allowed outside for weeks.

Except, instead of bruises on your body, these are bruises on your soul.

And—” His body shakes. “—I’m the one dealing them, Crimson.

Please… Please stop this torture, if not for yourself, for me . ”

My heart cracks.

My arms sweep around him as my emotions level, settle, calm.

“Shh.” I run my fingers through his hair.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I can’t believe myself.

Of course he’d blame himself for my pain right now.

I asked him explicitly to cause it. What am I doing breaking down like this in front of him? “I’m…fine.”

“Tell that to your pillow,” he whispers.

I cut a glance toward the bed, feel the feathers sticking to my damp cheeks, and grimace. “I’m fine… now .”

“If this continues, you’ll run out of pillows, and I…I won’t be able to take it. I’ll fall apart.”

“No…you won’t.” I pull back enough to meet his devastated eyes. “I’ll hold you together. We can do this. Please. Remember, you’re saving me. Even though it hurts. All of this pain now is so I’ll never have to hurt like this again.”

He brushes pieces of my pillow from my cheeks, murmuring, hoarse, “What if I need saving, Crimson?”

My chest…lightens. Perhaps…flutters.

And it’s terrible. But the idea that I’m not completely helpless right now is a drug I desperately needed.

Gaze lowering, I find the harsh line of Kaleb’s lips, and kiss him, gently.

His muscles constrict around me, palms flattening to my flesh.

“How can I help make this easier? I…” I swallow.

“I’m sorry for getting so frustrated in front of you.

You’ve been doing so good.” I kiss his jaw, put what we’ve practiced to use.

“So, so good. I’m so grateful things are going so well.

I just hate how little I have to do with any of it. ”

“How little you have to do with any of it?” He kisses me, carefully, on the cheek. “Crimson, you are dancing on glass and nails to make this work. I hate watching you twirl for them…for me . I swore I’d never ever be anything like my parents. Yet, here I am, proving it’s so easy to act like them.”

“I never knew them, but if they were anything like my father, you are nothing like them. You are so kind and gentle, Kaleb.”

“I’m not. I force myself to be. Every moment of every day, I’m forcing myself to pretend I’m kind and gentle .

If I’m honest, I want you so badly it cripples my brain.

Every time I touch you to help you, I enjoy it.

I lie awake at night scorning myself for this desire I know makes you sick. I’m a horrible person, Crimson.”

“Hey,” I soothe. “You aren’t. I promise you aren’t. You’re just…a man. It’s probably normal. You probably can’t help it.”

“That’s the sexist propaganda that they feed you to excuse our urges .

All the while, they beat those very same desires out of women because they’re not ladylike .

It’s not because I’m a man, Crimson. It’s because I’m a human who hasn’t put in the effort to control myself and didn’t have society forcing me to. ” His head shakes. “There’s no excuse.”

Is that what happened to me? Did the expectation that I behave in some strict ladylike manner beat out my ability to even recognize desire?

Or do I just not have it? I…don’t know. And I guess it doesn’t really matter right now.

“If you really want me so badly, I think you have an incredible amount of control. You have been nothing but careful and respectful with me.” Grazing my fingers up his arm, I secure his wrist, bring his hand to my mouth, and kiss his palm.

“I know you’re safe. You’ve spent a week being nothing but considerate, preparing me for the worst without pushing me to do anything. ”

His throat bobs. “What if I’ve just been taking advantage of you because I want you so badly?”

“Ever since you said you thought I might be asexual, you’ve not suggested we go any further. I notice things like that, Kaleb. You respect me in such thoughtful ways.”

“ Basic ways, Crimson.” His fingers against my cheek tease my hair as his thumb swipes through my running makeup. “Not asking for sex from someone who doesn’t want it isn’t thoughtful. It’s human decency. A common courtesy. A very, very low bar.”

“It is among the highest bars I’ve ever seen a man hold.”

“The men you’ve been subjected to are not beacons of any standard that should be held.”

That’s…a fair point.

Sinking, I rest my head against his chest, wrap my arms around him again, and try to prove that he is somehow—fundamentally—different.

As my muscles relax and calm overwhelms me, I begin to believe that maybe he is different somehow.

Better somehow. Safe…somehow. “I appreciate you. I’m so sorry if destroying my pillow freaked you out.

If it’s any consolation, it is not the first time I’ve done that after being around my family. ”

“That…doesn’t really make me feel better.”

Right. Why would it? I thought maybe he’d be comforted to know that my outburst wasn’t attributed to his presence, but he’s far kinder than that. He’s not just thinking about himself or his role in hurting me. He doesn’t like seeing me hurting, period.

His cheek rests against the top of my head, and he squeezes me once before whispering, “You don’t have to do this for my sake if it’s revolting to you. I’ll be okay.”

“I don’t find you revolting. I promise.” I listen to his heartbeat. “How do I know whether my aversion to intimacy is integral in my makeup or a result of my upbringing?”

“Aversion to intimacy is different from being asexual. Even if you fear intimacy, if you aren’t asexual, you will still experience physical attraction.”

“You know a lot about this stuff.”

His body moves in a shrug around me. “When it’s your job to play to the comfort of others, you pick up things about how people work.” His thumb runs over the bumps of my spine, and…it feels good.

I don’t think I’d mind staying here a while. Not if it proves something to him.

“There…is something else,” he says, caution in his tone. “And I need you to know that this comes from a selfish place. I need you to know that I’m trying to be transparent, but I’m also very weak and clinging to hope.”

“What is it?” I murmur.

“You could be demisexual. It’s on the asexual spectrum. Demisexuals don’t experience physical attraction until an emotional need is met. If you’ve not let yourself get close enough to create an emotional connection with any man, you wouldn’t know if you’re straight and demi or not.”

“Is…” My brow furrows. “I’m sorry. Is that not how it is for everyone?

The good people, I mean. The ones who are serious about wanting to build something with someone, not the scum who just want to feel good.

Doesn’t everyone good build an emotional connection before even thinking about the physical things? ”

“Um. No. That is very much not how it is for even good people…”

I pull back, dumbfounded. “You’re telling me good people walk around thinking things about people whose names they don’t even know?”

Kaleb assists in putting more distance between us.

Keeping his eyes averted, he says. “Yeah…that…that’s what I’m saying.

Physical attraction is often what inspires people into a deeper relationship.

You start at the wow…she or he is gorgeous …

and then you fumble your way through I wonder if I can stand their character . ”

“That is…fascinating.” I blink up at him, and I think if his skin weren’t so tan, it would be more obvious that he’s…blushing? Oh my goodness, he’s blushing. I can’t believe he’s actually blushing . I say, “It’s also a little disturbing.”

“I’m very sorry. But. This happened. Me, to you.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“ Oh. ”

He swallows and still can’t meet my eyes.

“Yeah. I…I like you. I guess I understand now why you were so adamant about undermining my feelings. To you, we just don’t know each other, so there’s nothing of importance for me to like.

My interest in committing to you because you light something up inside my brain, I think you’re perfect, and I’ve seen enough of your character to know I’d like to keep seeing more for the rest of my life is not a concept you’ve encountered before. ”

My heart squeezes. “I’d never undermine your feelings on purpose. I’m so sorry if that’s what it seemed like I was doing. I just… I don’t… How can you make that kind of life-changing decision based basically on what I look like?”