Finding London (Flawed Heart #1) (20 page)

“Of course I’d have wanted to know them.”

“Exactly my point!
Dude
, come on!” Cooper runs his fingers through his hair in frustration.

I can’t help but laugh. “Okay”—I chuckle—“I get your point.”

He’s right. I’m being a total idiot.

“Thank you!” He groans. “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m good.”

“Thank God.” He shakes his head with a grin. “Now, before I had to go all Oprah on your ass, I originally came in here to see if you wanted us to order you some Chinese. Maggie and I are going to stuff our faces and have a Mission: Impossible marathon.”

“Nah, thanks though. I’m going to go get London back.”

“Aw, that’s my boy.” He smirks.

“Shut up already.”

“All right, all right.” He raises his hands in mock surrender. “But, seriously, good luck, man.”

“Thanks, Coops.” I pin him with a stare. I don’t say the words on the tip of my tongue because, let’s face it, this brief conversation has been enough sentimental shit for one day.

But that’s the thing with Cooper. I don’t have to say the words for him to understand. He’s always had this crazy ability to get me, oftentimes better than I get myself. He knows how much he means to me.

“Anytime, brother.” He nods before stepping back and closing my bedroom door behind him.

I get what Cooper said. It all makes sense, and I know he’s right. Deep down, I know that I didn’t have anything to do with my parents’ or Sarah’s deaths. I understand, too, that all relationships are a gamble. But there’s still that part, far within, that whispers that I’m being selfish. I have a real fear that, by dating London when I’m not a whole person, I will hurt her.

She’s this bright light, the first one since Sarah, that’s been able to penetrate my darkness. But, unlike Sarah—whom I loved like family—the feelings I have stirring within me for London are so much more. They are raw and hot, urgent and needy. They consume me with immense want. This week and every other day since she first washed my truck, I’ve tried everything not to think about her, but I’ve found it impossible.

London, for me, is unforgettable. Her light is so vivid that it refuses to be dimmed. I’m just terrified that somehow, though I won’t mean to, not only will I dim her brightness, but I’ll also extinguish it altogether.

So, yeah, maybe picking London is the selfish thing to do, but I’m going to take that chance anyway. Apparently, I’m a selfish prick.

London

“I’m fully aware that you have the potential to obliterate my heart into a million pieces, and I’m okay with that.”

—London Wright

Exactly a week ago, I had an amazing date with Loïc, at which he all but confessed his love—if not love, then deep
like
—for me. We proceeded to watch a magnificent sunset and had an incredibly steamy kiss. Of course, that was followed by his internal freak-out and subsequent cutting off of the date and dropping me off at home early where I was left hurt, confused, and sad.

Ah, just a typical night out for me. No, not really.

If I’ve had an amazing time with a guy I like, it’s always ended way better than that.

What is my fascination with Loïc?
I truly, for the life of me, cannot begin to understand it. Pre-Loïc London would never have put up with this teeter-totter of craziness.

But therein lies the problem. Loïc isn’t like any guy I’ve ever dated. He’s different. Despite his plethora of issues, I’m drawn to him, almost instinctually. My attraction to him and desire to be with him aren’t things I can control. I simply know we’re meant to be. We have to be. It’s the only logical conclusion to my obsession.

Here I stand, on the corner of Independence and Desire. The problem is that Desire is littered with lots of trash that I call desperation while Independence is covered in regret.
So, the million-dollar question is, is it better to risk falling to desperation to cure this immense ache of desire, or should I hold my head high on my lonely walk to independence?

For me, at least with Loïc, there is no question.

So, now, I need to come up with a plan to get him back.

Yeah, that’s a problem.

I sigh before plopping onto my bed, TV remote control in hand.

I’ve tried with Loïc. I’ve pulled out all of my charms. None of it worked on him because his mind was already closed off. I need to do something
more
. I just haven’t figured out what.

Granted, bingeing on Netflix for a week straight didn’t allow for much time to plan for my Loïc domination.

Paige is out with a guy, so I planned on using tonight to craft my ingenious plan, but I can’t find the motivation. Perhaps, after a few episodes of a new guilty-pleasure show, an idea will come to me.

The doorbell rings, and I freeze. My mouth goes dry, and I swallow. I slowly sit up, throwing my legs over the side of my bed. My chest feels light, and I focus on my breathing.

It might not even be him. Calm down.

It has to be him, right?

Who else would it be?

I step into the hallway and hesitantly make my way toward the front door. The bell rings again, startling me, and I jump. At this point, I notice my wounded-heart ensemble—a thin tank top, short yoga shorts, no makeup, and my long hair thrown on top of my head in a messy bun. It could be worse. I actually showered today, so at least I don’t stink.

Oh, well. I don’t have time to glam it up at this point. It is what it is. Take me or leave me.

Wait, I didn’t mean it. Please don’t leave me.

My sweaty palm grasps the door handle, and I pull it open. My knees go weak, and I know that’s cliché, but
gorgeous
doesn’t begin to describe the man before me.

Oh, what he does to me…

He’s here, and he’s smiling. It’s a cautious grin, but it’s something. In his hands, he’s holding a huge basket with an adorable pink ribbon wrapped around it. Inside the basket, among purple paper confetti, is bag upon bag of gummy candy. My eyes do a quick scan, and I see a variety of gummy goodness from worms to sour to original bears. I can’t contain the wide smile that comes to my face.

“What’s this?” I motion toward the basket.

“A peace offering. I was hoping to soften you up with a little sugar, so I could plead my case.” The rich timbre of his voice never fails to still my heart.

“Your case?” I manage to keep my voice steady. I wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear the rapid beating of my heart.

“Yeah, I was hoping I could take you out and kind of explain some stuff, maybe talk you into giving me…
us
another chance.” He releases one of his hands from the basket and rubs the back of his neck. His beautiful blues dart from my lips to my eyes before peering toward the ground.

“I don’t want to go out,” I say.

Loïc’s eyes pierce mine. A deep sadness resides behind them, and it makes my chest ache.

“But we can hang out here,” I offer.

His expression is one of confusion. I know this groveling-at-my-door scenario that’s going on is new and probably difficult for him.

I give him a comforting smile. “Come inside. We have the whole place to ourselves. You can plead your case here. You can even wait until I’m in a major sugar coma to do so, if you want,” I say with a quirked eyebrow.

A slow smile forms on his lips, lighting up his eyes. I step back, and he enters. I close the door behind him, and he places the basket on the table in the foyer. He turns toward me, and before I know it, he pulls me into his chest, engulfing me in a hug.

My arms wrap around him, tightly hugging him. The tension rolls off my body, and I want to cry from the mere relief of having him this close to me.

He bends his head toward mine, nuzzling his face into my hair. “God, I’ve missed you,” he groans, his voice so husky and needy.

His confession causes a torrent of goose bumps to explode over my body.

We stand this way, wrapped in each other’s arms, for a long time. I think we’re both afraid to let go. I haven’t been this content in a week, and I’m terrified for it to end. I’m scared to death that something will trigger him to leave me again.

Eventually, he leans his head back, so our eyes meet. “You’re so beautiful.”

“Right,” I say sarcastically.

“No, you are, London. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

His eyes hold a sincerity that makes my stomach flutter.

I lean my face against his chest. “So far, you’re doing a good job in pleading your case.”

His chest vibrates beneath my face with laughter. “Good.”

“Come on, let’s go to my room,” I suggest as I take a step back from him, my body immediately regretting the absence of his warmth.

“Your room?”

“To talk,” I clarify.

He laughs. “Okay. I thought you’d forgiven me awfully quick.”

I grab his hand, entwining my fingers with his, and I lead him the short distance to my bedroom. “I’ve already forgiven you, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t talk.”

I sit, cross-legged, on my bed. Loïc takes off his shoes and sits across from me.

“So?” I say as a lame attempt to get the conversation going.

“Right.” Loïc sighs, obviously uncomfortable. “I guess it’s probably best for me to tell you everything from the beginning. I don’t know how else to explain my issues, but I think it’s important that you understand them. I need you to know all of it, so you can decide if you want to take the risk and be with me.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he raises his hand to halt me.

“Listen, London, truthfully, I don’t know if it’s in your best interests to be with me. I’ve tried to end it with you multiple times now because of that, but for some reason, I can’t stay away from you. You should know all the details though, and you have to take it all in. You have to listen carefully when I tell you that I’m damaged. I’m broken, maybe irrevocably, and I don’t want to drag you down with me. You need to hear me, so you can decide what’s best for you.”

He looks so serious. Incredible apprehension hides in his expression. I want to tell him that it doesn’t matter what he says. Nothing will change my mind. But I think he needs this. Maybe if he confesses his demons and I choose him anyway, he’ll stop running.

“Okay, tell me everything,” I encourage.

He starts from when he was discovered at the entrance of a fire station. He talks of his parents and grandparents. He runs through every foster home he lived in and the horrors of each one. I have to stop myself from reaching out to hold him as he tells me about his grandparents and how he kept waiting for them to rescue him, but they never did. He tells me about the moment when he was fifteen and he’d had enough, so he ran away with Sarah. Then, he tells me about being homeless with Sarah for over two years and how he lost her. After Sarah’s death, he turned himself into the foster-care system, so he could obtain the proper paperwork he needed to get an ID. Then, he got his GED, and the day he turned eighteen, he joined the Army.

His account is so sad, so incredibly depressing, that it’s hard to fathom that it is real. But looking at his hollow eyes as he recounts the nightmare of his life, I know it is very real.

I understand why Loïc has commitment issues. He’s lost everyone he’s ever loved. I also see the fear residing within him. At twenty-five, he is this strong, masculine force to be reckoned with, but behind the tough exterior, he is a little boy who is afraid of having his heart broken.

Over the past hour, Loïc has told me his entire life’s tale—or at least all the ugly highlights. I’ve listened attentively, and I’ve made a conscious effort not to interrupt him, to let him talk. Just from the little that I know of him, I realize how much courage it took for him to open up like that.

Some of the details I already knew, but most of them were new to me.

He finishes and expectantly looks at me.

I grab his hands in mine. “I’m so sorry that you had to go through all of that. It breaks my heart. I understand why you’re hesitant to continue this thing that we have. I can’t tell you what tomorrow will bring, Loïc. I can’t promise you that we’ll be forever. But I can tell you that I’m more attracted to you than I have been to anyone else in my life. I’m crazy about you, about all of you. I want this to work between us. I want it to be forever, but the only way we’re going to know if it’s real is if we try. The unknown is always scary, but if we end up making it for the long haul, I know it will be worth it.”

“I’m going to hurt you, London. I feel it. A lifetime of issues can’t be fixed overnight. I’m my own worst enemy, and I’m going to ruin you.” His voice breaks. The despair that resonates from him is tangible.

“I don’t care,” I say simply. “You very well might. Yes, there’s a chance that we won’t make it, and my heart will be broken. But, Loïc, there’s also a chance that we will. You’re worth the risk.”

“London…” he pleads.

I shake my head. “No. No more. Do you think that you’re the only one on this planet who’s damaged? You’re not. We all have our issues.”

“I have a flawed heart, London. I don’t know how to love.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. And you know what? My heart is flawed, too. It doesn’t know how to function properly when it doesn’t have you. I need you, Loïc, for however long you can give me. I’m fully aware that you have the potential to obliterate my heart into a million pieces, and I’m okay with that. I’m letting you off the hook right now, releasing you from guilt. I’m going into this with my eyes wide open. I just need you to give us a chance. Please just try. No more running.”