“I’ve been ignoring her. I only talked to her that one time, and only because she kept calling, and I wanted to be clear that I wasn’t going to see her in LA. I promise I won’t talk to her any more. If she calls, I won’t answer. I’ll get a new phone so she doesn’t have my number. I’ll do anything, Poppy. Just please, give me a chance to fix this.”

I can hear the child in him, the beaten one, the one who’s been abandoned over and over again. But I have to protect myself too.

“This is a lot to take in, Lance. I don’t want to be responsible for allowing my heart to be broken.”

Panic flares in his eyes. “So what does that mean? Are you saying it’s over?”

“I’m not saying this is over. It’s not black and white. But I need some time to process all of this.”

His agitation makes the whole couch shake. His foot is going on the floor, the vibrations making the ice tinkle in his glass on the table. His elbows balance on his shaking knees, his fists clenching and releasing. I’m not sure whether to be afraid for him right now or not. I know he won’t hurt me, but he has a tendency to find ways to hurt himself.

I’ve seen him fight on the ice before, watched him take hits over and over until he’s finally had enough. He has to be pushed hard before he breaks. It’s like watching a rubber band snap, a bomb explode.

He runs a rough hand through his hair and down over his face. Balling it into a fist, he presses it against his mouth and makes a low sound. “How much?”

“How much what?”

“How much time will you need?” His voice is mangled.

“I don’t know. A week? Maybe more?”

He makes a noise that sounds a lot like a sob. “And I can’t see you at all?”

Oh, God. The look on his face is breaking my heart more than that picture, and that picture shredded me. “It’s not a good idea.”

“Fuck. Fuck.” He rubs hard at the space between his eyes with his knuckles. “Have I ruined this? I have, haven’t I?”

“You haven’t ruined it. I need time to think, Lance. This has been intense right from the start—and I mean a decade ago. Every time you come into my life again, my world is turned upside down. I need to figure out if I can handle this level of intensity all the time.” I also need time to figure out how to find balance with this man. I want to save him from himself, and keep myself safe at the same time. But I can’t stop myself from putting my hand over his knee.

He shudders and covers my hand with his. His palm is clammy and shaking along with the rest of him. Suddenly he’s on his knees in front of me. He wraps one arm around me and buries his face in my lap. The other hand grips my wrist. He presses my palm to the back of his neck, holding it there.

“I wanna deserve you. Why can’t I find a way to deserve you?”

Paralyzed by shock, I watch this huge man fall apart for an agonizing, protracted moment. Because I told him I need time. And that’s not unreasonable, I remind myself. Not after what I’ve just seen and what he’s told me.

I run my fingers through his hair, and he nuzzles in closer, another tortured sound leaving him, like he’s dying for the affection. I consider that for a moment—how he’s gone through life prepared for the women in it to hurt him, rather than care for him.

I don’t want to be that all over again, but I have to manage all the feelings I have for and about this man. I let him stay on the floor in front of me, for as long as I can, but eventually I stroke his cheek.

He turns his head like he’s chasing the touch. He catches my hand and brings my fingers to his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“I know you are.”

He lifts his head, but keeps a tight hold on my hand. “But you can’t forgive me?”

“I didn’t say that. Just give me some time to get this all sorted out.”

“That’s not a yes.”

“It’s not a no, either. I’m not going to lie and tell you this is okay, because for me it’s not. But that doesn’t mean I won’t get over it. I need time to process, okay? I have to figure out if I’m ready for something like this.”

That someone else wields such power over him scares me, especially since she’s been such a negative force in his life. I don’t think I could bear it if I let him into my heart the way I want to, only to have their pattern prove impossible for him to break. What will I do if he discards me like she seems to do to him, over and over again?

CHAPTER 23

DEPRIVATION

POPPY

In the past, I’ve always managed a breakup, or a timeout, or whatever it is I’m calling this by staying busy. So that’s exactly what I’m trying to do now. On Wednesday night I bring tea and cookies over to Mr. Goldberg’s. It’s too cold to sit outside, so we eat at his kitchen table instead.

“I haven’t seen your boyfriend lately. Everything okay there?” He dips a gingersnap into his teacup. He uses fine china because it reminds him of his wife, even though the handles are difficult for him to manage.

“They’ve had an away series. They’ll be back in a couple of days.” I don’t want to get into my relationship problems with Mr. Goldberg, mostly because I think it might make me cry.

“Well, if you wouldn’t mind asking him to bring by some of those special oat biscuits when he’s back, that would be lovely. I think they’re my new favorite.”