Page 169 of His Surrender

I should be happier than I have ever been.

Part of me wants to throw my arms around him, kiss him, and tell him I have loved him in one form or another for what feels like half my life.

But he doesn’t look relieved about it. He looks terrified.

The realization tempers the joy before it can fully take hold.

“I love you too.” My voice trembles.

Dean closes his eyes. His face tightens, as though the words cause him pain.

I lift one hand to his cheek. “Look at me.”

He does, eventually.

I smile through my tears. “I love you.”

His lips part, but no response comes.

Instead, he covers my hand with his and holds it against his face.

For a few seconds, he leans into my touch. When he takes a step back, the loss of contact chills me.

“I never let anyone get close enough for this,” he says.

A hollow feeling opens in my stomach. “For what?”

“To matter this much.”

“Dean—”

“I thought I was protecting myself.” His gaze drops. “I told myself I was too busy for relationships. That I didn’t need one. That everything was easier without the complications.”

He rubs both hands over his face. “The truth is, I knew what love could cost.”

I shake my head. “Loving someone doesn’t mean you’re going to lose them.”

“My father probably believed that too.”

The words land harder than he intended. I can see his regret the moment he says them, but he cannot take them back.

“No one can promise you that nothing bad will ever happen,” I say carefully. “But you can’t spend your whole life refusing to love people because you might lose them.”

“I managed to do exactly that for nineteen years.”

His voice has gone flat again. The wall is rebuilding itself in front of me, brick by brick.

“And were you happy?”

“I was functional,” he replies.

“That isn’t the same thing.”

He breathes out a sigh. “I know.”

“Then why would you want to go back to that?”

He looks toward Liana. She has fallen asleep in the playpen, her cheek pressed against the padded mat, one hand still wrapped around the soft block.