“I’m not sure that’s true,” he said. “Isn’t making it most of the way there with a little help from others how most people find success in this world?”
She groaned. “Oh my God, are you inspirationalizing me again?”
He smile
d and sat up, wrapping his arms around her. “No. But I once had a very wise woman tell me humans need other humans and that we can’t do it all on our own. I’m finding the advice pretty helpful, so maybe it’s something to consider.”
She huffed and looped her arms around his neck. “I can’t believe you’re using my own words against me.”
“Dirty pool is my favorite game.”
She sagged in his hold and touched her forehead to his. “I never tried to write the song. I gave up before I even tried. I lied to my friends.”
The words caught him off guard, the confession hitting him right in the center of his chest. He rubbed a hand down her back, afraid to spook her and have her shut him out again.
She lifted her head, her eyes searching his. “I’m afraid it’s going to open up a door to stuff I can’t handle.”
He smoothed a stray hair away from her face. “Okay.”
She frowned. “You’re not supposed to say okay. You’re supposed to say that I’m tough and I’ve done all this research and this could help and I shouldn’t be such a baby about one stupid song, that I should at least try because I promised I would.”
He studied her, the storm in her eyes. “Baby, all of those things are things you think you owe other people. You don’t owe anyone a damn thing. Not the world. Not your friends. Not your parents. You’ve given so much of yourself already, even when there was no debt to be paid in the first place.”
“But you suggested the song. You’re the one—”
“I suggested the song for you. Because I’ve listened to you sing, and I’ve heard you talk about your songwriting dreams. I’ve seen your face when you get lost in a song. I saw it the other night when we were getting ready for bed. I don’t even think you realized you were singing, but you were transformed for those few minutes…like the world was lifted off your shoulders and you were free of it. It was a beautiful thing to watch.”
“Shaw…” she said softly, her eyes getting shiny.
“I never meant to put any pressure on you. I thought maybe you’d want to write a song because it would give you a chance to take back a part of you that was stolen,” he said. “I would never want you to do it for any other reason. So if your heart isn’t in it or you think it will hurt you, please don’t do it.”
She blinked and lifted her hands to cup his jaw. “You… You’re a beautiful person, Shaw Miller.”
The words hit him, cutting deep and stirring guilt. He looked down. “Taryn…”
“No, I’m serious. I don’t know how anyone could ever know you and think anything else. Maybe if you gave people a chance to know—”
“Please. Stop.” He eased her off his lap so he could stand. “Let’s not do this. Don’t give me that much credit. The situation hasn’t changed. I can’t…be anything but Lucas in front of anyone else.”
She stood. “Shaw—”
“No. People aren’t going to see me like you do. You see the best parts of me because that’s what you bring out in me. That doesn’t mean the other parts aren’t still there.”
Taryn’s lips pressed together in frustration. “Which other parts, Shaw? What are these scary other sides I see no evidence of?”
He ran a hand over the back of his head and tightened the rubber band holding his hair back, wishing he could just slide down the wall and escape this conversation. “I have an anger problem. Diagnosed and everything. Intermittent explosive disorder.”
She grimaced like she’d bit into something sour. “IED? To get that diagnosis, you’d have to be having aggressive outbursts consistently two or three times a week. Or you would’ve needed more brushes with the law in the years since you attacked the reporter. I’ve been around you for weeks. I’ve seen no signs of an out-of-control temper at all,” she said flatly. “I think they let your brother’s history influence them.”
She was so ready to see the good in him. But she had no idea.
“You need a sign?” he said, his stomach hurting. “That wasn’t the first incident. The first time I lost my temper like that was with Joseph.”
She stared back at him. “What do you mean?”
He didn’t want to say it. He’d never said it. But he couldn’t bear to let her stand here and tell him what a wonderful person he was. She didn’t deserve to be fed that bullshit. His fingers curled into his palms, and he forced the words out. “A few months before the shooting, I visited home. Joseph was bitching about the fact that my parents bought me a car at sixteen and he still didn’t have one because they’d used the money to pay for extra training for me. That I was the favorite. That it was unfair.
“I blew him off because the only reason I got a car so early was because I needed to get back and forth to practice. He didn’t have anywhere to be. Well…” He looked away toward the windows, the story spilling out. “That night, Joseph and Trevor stole the newer car I’d traded up to in college. When I tracked them down a few hours later, they were in the park near the school in my car, smoking weed and getting everything filthy. Fast-food wrappers everywhere, a spilled drink and muddy footprints all over the floorboards.”