A Safe Space (Someone Else's Fairytale Book 4) (37 page)

I absorb what I just heard then peer gingerly at my phone, where it rests a few feet away.

A knock sounds right above my head. “Lizzie?” he says through my door. “You there? Please be there. I’m sorry. I’m an idiot. I am not with Rachel, I swear. I promise.”

I reach out and snag my phone with my fingertips. The call history says that I have eight unanswered calls, all from Devon. And two texts.

Devon:
Rachel and I are not together. Please let me explain.

Devon:
Call me? Please?

“I don’t ever want to hurt you, okay?” he says through the door. “I know I have so many times and…I’m sorry. Please open up?”

Kyra’s words come to mind.
No one deserves to be abandoned.
My roommate insisted that everyone deserves a rescue when times are rough.

Even me.

“Lizzie?” says Devon. “Are you in there? I’m not sure where else to look.”

I wipe my eyes on my sleeve, get to my feet, take a deep breath, and open the door.

He has one hand braced against my doorframe as he looks up.

“Hey,” he says, drawing himself up to his full height. “I… Look, I’m sorry. Rachel just wanted to take her kids to Disneyland and asked if she could stay with me.”

I nod. How is it that he looks so gorgeous all the time? Right now, he’s not even trying. His shirt’s rumpled, his hair’s damp and disheveled, and all this does is make me think of what it might be like to wake up next to him in the morning.

“We are not together,” he says.

He means him and Rachel
, I prompt myself. “Right.”

“You okay?”

Well, he knows the answer to that. I’ve obviously been crying. So I change the subject.

“How come she had to tell you to put on clothes?”

He shuts his eyes, embarrassed. “I was in the shower. I don’t shower at work anymore. The guys like to prank me by dumping buckets of cold water on my head and stuff.”

That would explain his damp hair, and now that I look, I see that his shirt’s damp too, as if he pulled it on before he dried himself. My heart flutters.

“Sorry to hear that,” I say.

“They think it’s hilarious,” he says, “that when I finally fell hard for someone, it was you. Everyone thinks it’s funny. That’s why I didn’t even tell Rachel that I knew you.”

“Oh.”

He reaches for me. “Lizzie—”

I pull back even though my heart screams in protest and a tightness binds my chest. It’s a reflex that surprises even me, but right now, in this moment, I feel as much dread as I feel joy.

He freezes, those eyes of his begging me not to push him away. “Sorry,” he says. “You getting all upset about Rachel kinda got my hopes up.”

His instinct isn’t wrong. I do want him, but… “Every time I’ve let you know how much I like you, you’ve hurt me.” Now I sense a fight about to happen. I can already imagine him telling me that the time I ditched him after our first kiss was me hurting him and—

“Yeah, I know,” he says. He pauses, squares his shoulders, and gives me a look that tells me that he’s made a decision of some kind. “I need to tell you something. Can I come in?”

I dab more tears from my eyes, nod, and let him through before I close the door behind him. He waits for me to lead the way into the living room, where I sit on the couch.

He settles himself next to me, his arm resting along the back cushion, his posture casual but his expression serious.

Since I didn’t ask for this conversation, I wait for him to speak.

For a long moment, he says nothing, just looks me over then fidgets and takes a deep breath. “Listen, part of the reason I went back to Montana and Rachel was because she obviously needed someone and that felt like the noble choice. She has nothing, and you basically have everything.”

I can’t argue. That was my conclusion when I saw her Facebook page.

“But then I watched you on
Good Morning America
and saw you cry.”

And watched it over and over
, I remind myself. That’s mortifying. “It was a sad song,” I point out.

“I know.” He frowns, and I can’t help but notice that he looks every inch the sexy male model posing for a shoot. “It just reminded me of all the other times I’ve seen you cry.”

I fix my gaze on a seam in the couch cushion between us.

“Like the time you came to my apartment,” he says.

Yeah, definitely a moment I prefer to forget.

“And after I dropped you off at the airport. Well…I saw the paparazzi pictures of that one.”

This keeps getting worse.

His fingers pick absently at a nonexistent thread on his jeans. “I remember that day you showed up at the gym all rattled and then kissed me in the closet.”

Also not my favorite memory. Well, the kiss itself almost is, but everything that came after…

A touch, so gentle I barely feel it, lifts a strand of hair off my face, and I look up to see him staring at me like he’s memorizing every detail.

“I need to tell you something,” he repeats.

I bite my lip and wait.

He lets the strand of my hair slide through his fingers as he looks me straight in the eye. “I love you. Okay, I said it. Now I have some idea of how you felt that night you came to my apartment.”

I open my mouth, but no words come. It takes me a moment to comprehend that my jaw just dropped from shock.

“I have loved you in some way or another for as long as I’ve known you,” he goes on. “I mean, when we first met, I didn’t fantasize about kissing you, but I would’ve taken a bullet for you, no question. You were there during my darkest hour when even my own family wasn’t, and I’ve never forgotten that.”

I wipe more tears from my eyes and look up at him.

“I was confused,” he says. “Our first kiss just about broke me because I couldn’t stop wanting more. When you came over to my place that one night and kept saying my name, it drove me to the edge of my control and I hated myself. And then when I tucked you into bed and tried to take care of you, I saw you there, lying in this filthy apartment and it wasn’t what you deserved at all. It was just wrong. I meant to get out of town that next morning but..I couldn’t. I drove you to the airport and called you in Australia, and then Kyra talked me into picking you up when you got back.” He shakes his head.

“And you told me you didn’t want me,” I say.

“I know. I was messed up. When I finally did leave California, I was able to get my head clear enough to think a little. I figured some stuff out, like that you’re just as lonely as I am. Everything you’ve got? It doesn’t change that. You’ve got no one closer than a friend in your life. Not one family member.”

“Yeah.” This is true.

“And the way I feel about you is…” He runs his fingers through his hair. “I don’t ever want to use you or hurt you. I just really want to be with you. So maybe it’s okay to feel an attraction this intense. Maybe it just goes along with how much I love you.”

“Devon,” I whisper.

He doesn’t lean over and kiss me, but it’s clear that he wants to. His hands ball into fists, and he shuts his eyes and clears his throat. “Anyway, yeah. I’m here. I came back. You know all that. I want to make this right, which you also know. I’m not sure what else I can say. I’m done running from this because I love you and I know I can trust you with anything, even my heart…if you want it. Honestly, it’s yours whether you do or not. I may not deserve you, but I can be a better person than I’ve been. And I swear that I’ll be here whenever you need me. That’s what I should have done all along and I really,
really
hope it isn’t too late for us. Please let me be yours, Lizzie.”

His posture is guarded now, as if he’s not sure whether or not I’m about to throw him out. I know the feeling. He’s just laid it all on the line for me like I once did for him, and I haven’t said anything to put him at ease.

I slide my hand across the couch cushion to where his is lying by his side. He looks up at me as I interlace our fingers and press my palm to his. His skin is warm and soft and his grip gentle.

He doesn’t move any closer. Instead, he strokes my thumb with his.

It’s still my move, then. I twist in my seat, reach over, and put my other hand on his cheek, which is smooth. He’s just shaved. He covers my hand with his and turns to kiss my palm, which sends a sensation like warm honey flowing into my veins, and when he looks me in the eye again, I let myself see what I haven’t dared to see ever since he came back. His devotion. That look of quiet determination that he wore at Mackenzie’s bedside, making it clear to the world that he’d chosen to be everything she needed and let nothing get in his way.

Another tear slips from my eye and this time he catches it with his thumb. Then, he makes his move, sliding closer to me on the couch and pressing his lips to my forehead.

I take a deep breath. “Devon,” I whisper.

What I expect is for him to grab me suddenly and kiss me like he never wants to stop, but what he does instead is shut his eyes a moment, exhale, then lean down and place his mouth on mine like he’s got all the time in the world and he’s going to make good use of it.

His arms wrap around me and he pulls me into his lap. The rest of the room blacks out as he kisses me again, and all I’m aware of is him. His touch, his scent, his warmth. The tips of his fingers stroke my face as the kiss deepens and I feel his body relax.

“Lizzie,” he murmurs.

I find that I’m clutching his shirt in my fists, breathing so hard that spots swim in my vision.

“Am I forgiven?” He speaks softly into my ear, his hand cupping my cheek.

I nod.

He kisses my temple. “Is there any chance you could fall in love with me again?”

I loosen my grasp on his shirt and run my fingers through his still-damp hair while I kiss him on the cheek and the side of his neck. “I don’t think I ever stopped,” I confess. “I still love you.” Last time I told him this, it hurt. It was like ripping glass shards from my flesh. This time, though, it felt good to say it.

He takes me by the upper arms and looks me in the eye, his expression wild with hope. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” I bite my lip..

I expect him to kiss me harder, but instead, he pauses as if he’s bottling up all the passion of the moment so that we can savor it. His next kiss is still gentle, with a heat behind it that would be all consuming, except that he’s got control. While he slips one arm around my waist to cradle my lower back, I run my fingers over his chest, which causes him to suck in his breath and let out a soft moan.

“Sorry,” I say. “Too much?”

He takes another deep breath. Then he opens his eyes and smiles at me. “Endurance training. It’s all good.” The look he gives me reminds me of his usual, amused smirk, but there’s no mockery there this time. It’s as if he’s saying, “Seven years ago I never thought you and I would end up
like
this
, but who am I to argue with fate anymore?”

He resumes our kiss, rubbing my shoulders with his hands, then makes a trail of kisses down the side of my neck. Now it’s my turn to suck in my breath, and he chuckles as if he’s scored a point.

“So,” he whispers. His thumb runs along my cheekbone while his breath tickles my clavicle. “Right now, Lizzie Warner, are you happy?”

I nod. “Yeah. Are you?”

He nods, and his next breath comes with a shudder. His arms tighten around me and it takes me a moment to realize that he’s fighting back tears.

“Yeah…” he says. “Sorry, I just… It’s been years since I felt happy. Kinda thought those days were over for good.”

Four Years Later

I
T’S A COLD
day in Billings with a chill wind that scrapes dead leaves across the pavement. Devon and I hold hands as we walk down the cemetery path. The sky above us is a deep, cobalt blue and red cliffs jut up in the near distance. I’ve never been to Montana before; it makes me see Devon in a different light when I imagine him giving up these big skies and vistas for the rainy cold of Seattle and his sister’s illness.

We keep an eye out as we walk. I’m famous again, thanks to the starring role I had in Bud Hoffman’s latest summer blockbuster. All that came after a dry spell of a few years when that pilot for
Injunction
didn’t get picked up and I couldn’t land a part in another one. Bud paired me up with Kyra’s uncle, Jason, and despite the twelve-year age gap, it was surprisingly fun. Jason’s wife and Devon already knew each other a little bit, having met through Kyra, but on the set they really hit it off well. There was no awkwardness even when we had to do romantic scenes. Everyone knew it was all for show.