me tighter, he says, “Leave you. I couldn’t leave you.”
I hug him back and kiss his cheek. “It wasn’t forever.”
“It felt that way.”
“How long have you known you weren’t going to Wyoming?”
“Since we said goodbye.”
I slap him on the shoulder. “Greer, that was weeks ago.”
“I know. I wanted to tell you, but there was never a good time with you being gone to your dad’s and all. And then I thought you might like the surprise. Girls like surprises, right?”
I laugh and pull back to see amusement dancing in his eyes. “Usually. But I wish you’d have been honest. I was honest with you.”
“About that …”
“Yes?”
He takes a deep breath, and I see the resolve building in his eyes. “I want us to be together. What I said back there about you being the one—you are my one. My one and only. I want a fighting chance with you, Denver. You didn’t give me one. You determined that we were … what was the word you used … toxic .”
“Greer—” I start to protest and try to move from his embrace. He cuts me off and pulls me tighter.
“You’ve never given me a chance, chicken. You put me in that damn compartment, and that was it. You owe me better than that. I’ve always been there for you, and you know it. I don’t deserve that.” Determination rings in both his voice and his eyes.
I know he doesn’t deserve that, but it’s what I had to do for my sanity. He was all right with it until he wasn’t anymore. I don’t know how to answer him without hurting him, so I change the subject. “I hate when you call me chicken. And we’re in college now, so do you think you could drop it?” I tilt my head and ask, “Why do you call me that? Just to get on my nerves?”
Laughing, he rubs his jaw for a minute. “Chicken butt is to get on your nerves. But not chicken.” I raise my brows, prompting him to continue. “When I was little, I was obsessed with chickens. Loved ‘em.”
“I remember.” His favorite thing had been to feed the chickens, but he didn’t leave when his task was completed. He hung out and watched and laughed and carried on.
His look turns a little shy, but he continues.“ Yeah, well, I thought they were pretty, with all their colors and gracefulness and conversations.”
I can’t stifle the laughter that bubbles up. “Conversations?”
He drops his head back on the wall. “Yeah, conversations. You can’t sit still long enough to notice, but they’re actually really smart and beautiful and unique.” I let out a deep breath. “You’re my chicken.”
I roll my eyes and shake my head at him. “That’s sweet, Greer. But I’m still not crazy about it.”
His eyes turn serious and capture mine. “And it’s been my secret way of saying ‘I love you’ ever since we were eight years old.”
My heart slams to a stop inside of my chest before slowly picking back up and regaining speed. I say nothing. Couldn’t if I wanted to. He’d told me he loved me before, but not until we were sixteen—the knowledge that he has been telling me long before that is humbling.
He grabs my belt loops, pulling me even closer. “All I’m asking for is a chance, Denver. I know the commitment thing is hard for you. I’ll be patient,” he says with all seriousness.
Committing to him is not the issue. God, I’d give anything to be commitment-phobic. That would be a walk in the freaking park compared to my issues. I finally nod, and leaning in, I admit, “I get it. I do. But it’s not a good idea to be with me, Greer. I just don’t trust myself. You shouldn’t trust me either.”
“But I do. I know you better than anyone. Hell, I know you better than you know yourself sometimes, especially where this is concerned.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I persist. It’s always been about protecting him from me. Can’t he see that?
“I’ve never known worse pain than when you left me and told me that what little we had was over. I’m hurting right