Page 26 of The Tex Hex (Bitches With Stitches #3)

I press my tongue to the back of my teeth and think about what Mandy would say. He’d say I’m stronger than this. He’d say, You’re brave, even if you don’t feel it. But Mandy doesn’t know the whole story. He doesn’t know what I did to survive. He doesn’t know what I’ve let happen. What I’ve done.

And if he did…

I shake my head. It’s too much. It’s always too much.

I reach for the door handle. Not to go in. Not yet. Just to feel the metal. Just to prove to myself that I could. The handle’s cool under my hand. And I think maybe this is the moment. Maybe this is the second that tips the scale.

The rap of knuckles on my window almost scares the piss out of me. I flinch. And then I look up.

“Mandy?”

He’s standing there like a goddamn miracle, hood up, hands shoved in the pocket of his sweatshirt, shoulders tense but eyes locked on mine. Searching.

He doesn’t wave. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t knock again. Just waits.

Like he knew I’d need him before I even realized I was about to fall apart.

I fumble for the unlock button with shaking fingers, and he opens the door and slides into the passenger seat without a word.

The car feels small suddenly. Warm in a way it wasn’t before. He smells like laundry detergent and the aloe vera and cocoa butter lotion he applies every day to keep his skin soft so it doesn’t pull uncomfortably.

“You gonna tell me why you’ve been sitting out here for two hours like you're casing the joint?” he asks in a quiet voice. Not teasing. Just… gentle. No judgement.

I press my palms to my jeans, trying to rub away the tremble.

“They called,” I say. “The clinic. My results were… inconclusive. I have to go back.”

His gaze doesn’t waver. “Okay.”

“Okay?” I bark out a laugh that feels like it might crack my ribs. “That’s it?”

He shrugs. “So we go back.”

“We?”

Mandy looks at me like I’m the idiot. “You think I tracked you down just to sit in your car and not go with you?”

I don’t know what to say to that. My throat burns with all the words I’ve been trying not to say. I shake my head, biting my lip hard enough to taste blood.

“I didn’t want you to know,” I whisper. “I didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“Too late,” he says softly. “I see you. I see all of you. And I’m still here.”

I don’t even realize I’m yelling until my voice cracks and spit flies from my lips. “Just stop! You’re only being nice because of your insecurities! You feel like you have to bend over backwards to please me just to keep me.”

Mandy doesn’t say a word. Doesn’t blink. Just sits there, arms loose at his sides, taking it. Absorbing every poison-tipped dart I aim at him like he deserves it.

Like he thinks it’s true.

His silence makes it worse. Louder somehow than my screaming. It amplifies everything ugly in me until I can’t stand the sound of my own voice anymore.

“I don’t deserve it,” I snarl, “and I don’t deserve you.”

I can’t stop. I can’t stop. Oh God, I can’t…

“It’s me that should be kissing your ass instead. This face—” I jab a finger at my cheek, my mouth twisting in disgust. “The one that caught your eye? It hides an ugly soul. Inside, I’m rotten to the core.”

And Mandy—God help him—laughs. A low, startled, stunned laugh.

“It’s true,” I insist, heart slamming against my ribs. “I’m the one with the insecurities. I’m the one who should be killing himself trying to please you and keep you. I’ve never met anyone like you. Never had someone as good as you even look at me twice, let alone want me.”

I swallow hard, my hands trembling.

“You’re selfless. You’re honest. You’re generous in ways that don’t even make sense to me. And I’m not an idiot, Mandy. I know a good thing when I see it, and you’re not just a good thing. You’re the best thing. The best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Mandy stays quiet, watching me with that unreadable calm that drives me crazy and saves my life in equal measure.

He finally breaks his silence, eyes darting around the dark parking lot cautiously. “So, how will I know you’re not just overcompensating because of my burns? Because you have something to prove to yourself?”

I blink. Stunned. He said it so gently, so plainly.

“You don’t.” My voice cracks. “You just have to trust me.”

Mandy blinks slowly. His brow furrows. “This is ridiculous,” he mutters, almost to himself. “This isn’t us . Falling all over ourselves trying to prove something to the other…”

He exhales, then leans closer. Close enough that I can smell his lotion and laundry detergent. Close enough that I could rest my forehead against his chest if I needed to.

“Just relax,” he says, soft but firm. “Let it be. Let us be us. Not perfect. Not polished. Just real.” He shrugs. “Whatever we’re doing? It’s working. Maybe not in a romcom fairytale kind of way. But it’s ours.” His eyes are steady on mine. Kind. True. “Just let it be,” he whispers.

I reach for his hand, and he pulls me in against his solid chest, giving me the hug I needed. Grounding me. “I feel like I’m breaking apart.”

“It’s okay to fall apart and break. We can break together. And when you’re done, I’ll help you put the pieces back together.”

And fuck if that doesn’t undo me all over again. I wipe my snotty tears on his shirt, feeling grateful for him. So fucking grateful.

Mandy picks up my phone from the console and moves his thumb over the lock screen, lighting it up. A picture of Coop, his gorgeous car, comes to life. He took it the day he bought it, with me standing next to it, posing like Vanna White showcasing the grand prize.

“Call Brewer. He’s worried sick about you.”