Page 37 of The Games We Play (Balance of Power #3)

NAOMI

Present Day

“ T hey urgently rushed me to the hospital” He pauses and swallows hard. “She died before I could make it there.”

“Oh, Seamus. I’m so sorry.” My voice cracks and my words feel broken. My hand is covering my chest like my heart physically hurts at the pain of his words.

“There was so much confusion and I felt so lost. I didn’t know what to do. A couple days passed—I don’t know, maybe it was three—when I finally was able to pick up the phone and call the camp to find you, to talk to you. And I live in so much fucking regret waiting that long.”

He palms his face. The pads of his fingertips pinch into his eyelids as if he’s clearing them of unwanted tears without me realizing.

“I called and everyone was already gone. Apparently, they had closed down the camp. I just called back at the right time and was able to talk someone into looking up your name, but they couldn’t find anyone by the name of Mimi, and I didn’t know what your last name was.

Two weeks, everyday together, and I never asked you your fucking last name. ”

My heart is breaking for him, for the loss of his mother. And for us, for the time that was stolen from us because of a series of unfortunate events.

I want to tell him about how that was also the best night of my life, followed by the worst twenty-four hours, as well.

But, the mood is somber enough. I don’t need him to feel anything except the emotions he needs to work through right now.

I don’t know this version of Seamus well, but I have a feeling he’s never talked this deeply about us or his mother with anyone.

“Does Hudson know?” I ask, curious if he’s ever opened up. Because if he has, it would have been with him.

“He knows she died while I was away at camp. He was at the funeral with me. But I never told him about you. I never told anyone. For a while, I thought you were a made-up dream. Something I conjured up to get me through.” He huffs out a heavy breath and runs his hand through his hair.

“Then I scolded myself for attaching myself to you. Questioning whether or not you were a figment of my imagination or a real life angel whose memories I clung to because I needed them to survive.”

All these years, I’ve taught myself to hate him, to try and forget the time we shared because the memories were just too painful to push through some days. Yet, this entire time he’s been clinging to them like they’re his lifeline.

My heart hurts, it feels heavy in my chest as I breathe through the pain.

We both suffered in different ways because of our circumstances.

“I looked for you, I tried to search for any link I had to try and find you. I knew Shane’s last name, Smith .” He rolls his eyes. “Do you know there are fucking thousands of Shane Smiths in Texas? ”

I laugh at the lightness that’s finally coming through and nuzzle into him further.

“When I saw you at Afterburn that night, all dressed in halo white, I almost died. You went from being a spirit in my dreams to being an angel in reality, and I had no idea how to process it. That was until you kicked me in the nuts and then I really wanted to die.” I toss my head back in a laugh and cover my face in embarrassment.

“I had ten years of built up anger to unleash.” I smack his arm playfully.

“Oh I know, and you unleashed it in one swift kick, sunshine.” I laugh again, the memories of our nights together flashing in the forefront of my mind.

God, I’ve missed him.

“I’m glad you did, because I knew at that moment it was real. You were real,” he says as he tucks a stray hair behind my ear, tugging gently on my ear.

“So, you looked me up after that and bought my neighbor’s house?” I ask, raising a questioning eyebrow at his tactics.

“I was determined. I am determined.” He shifts on his side to face me fully.

“In my head, you’ve always been mine. But I won’t stop until the entire fucking world knows it.”

“Seamus…” I whisper.

“I won’t stop, Mimi. I’ll live next door, watching you, because I can’t keep my eyes off you. I’ll protect you even if you don’t need it. I’ll never give up on the idea of us.”

I open my mouth to reply, but he holds a finger up to my lips.

“I know it will take time to trust me, I’ll spend the rest of my life earning it.”

I shake my head. I understand the circumstances as to why he left. And in my heart, I always knew he would have never left intentionally like he did. But that night changed…everything.

When he left, a fear of abandonment branded itself to me, and the repercussions after left long term scars that I still have no idea how to process.

I’ve never been able to get close to any man. I’ve avoided opening up emotionally and physically, withholding my deepest sexual desires with any of the men I tried with.

Albeit, there weren't many. But those men also never tried to make me feel comfortable. I always used the excuse, that I liked giving pleasure and being in control as a reason to avoid them touching me or having to get physical with them in other ways, but I know I need to be honest with Seamus.

“I need to tell you something. But I’m afraid of what may happen if I do,” I confess.

His brows furrow as his dark eyes fill with concern. He pushes himself up further on his elbow, giving me his full attention.

“You know you can always tell me anything, nothing will change how I feel about you.”

I doubt it.

I roll over onto my back and close my eyes as I take a deep breath. I just hope what I am going to share with him doesn’t change how he feels about me.

I open my mouth to finally share with him what’s been weighing on me for a decade, but a large water droplet lands on my nose and splashes over my cheek. Then another on my forehead.

Suddenly, a flash of lightning pierces the sky, and heavy raindrops begin pelting on everything. What feels like buckets of water come barreling down, it’s instant and overwhelming.

“Oh my God!” I scream as we both urgently sit up at the same time, ducking our chins into our chest to avoid the flash flood from careening down on our faces.

“It wasn’t supposed to rain tonight!” Seamus says loudly over the water that’s beating against all the trees around us.

The slapping of the droplets overlap each other as the rain gets heavier and heavier. It only takes seconds and we’re completely drenched. Seamus pushes himself out of the back of the truck bed, his feet slapping down onto the already muddied ground before one foot slips from underneath him.

He uses one hand as a base on the back of the tailgate to balance himself and holds the other out to help me down.

A beat of thunder rolls through the air, slipping itself in between the pelting of the rain before another flash of lightning cuts through the sky.

“This is the Pacific Northwest. You should always anticipate rain.” I have to yell over the sound of the rhythmic downpour and crackling thunder.

Sliding my hand into his, he pulls me down to a standing position at the back of his truck. It’s a stark contrast how soft his touch is, how gentle he is, considering the mayhem of our current situation.

“This isn’t rain, this is a goddamn monsoon.

” He steps around the back of the truck, still holding my hand, but as I go to follow, I lose my footing and begin to slip forward.

He grips my hand to prevent my fall, but it’s completely useless.

It’s like gravity is forcing me down. Instead of letting me go, he attempts to pull me forward, his own feet slipping from underneath him, and I fall face forward as he lands straight on his ass.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” He’s holding his hands out to his sides, looking at the muddy damage decorating his body, and I can’t help but laugh.

It starts as a small giggle, then ascends into a full body, rolling onto my back, holding my stomach jerking as I laugh. Nothing about it is attractive, but neither is our current situation.

“Is this funny, sunshine?” His tone is deep and serious, yet as his eyes peer over to me, there is a touch of playfulness that I remember in my old Seamus.

But I know that modern day Seamus is dying inside. The heavy rain makes his face shine in the moonlight, the speckled with mud particles dress his cheeks and forehead while his hair is completely drenched and plastered to his head.

He sits up, swinging one mud-caked leg over my body, straddling me completely. His knees dig into the ground as he leans over the top of me, protecting me from the rain.

“You better stop laughing,” he says with a tinge of a smile behind his serious tone.

Of course, I don’t stop laughing.

So he leans further down, slamming his lips into mine. I greedily accept his kiss as my laughter instantly turns into a needy moan.