Page 219 of Faking the Goal

Now he's offering to move back into the hockey house and rearrange his entire routine because my problems have once again become too big for me to handle alone.

I hate that I need him this much.

I hate that every decision about my own life is being taken out of my hands, and I hate feeling like the helpless girl everyone has to protect before she gets herself killed.

My thoughts must show on my face because he reaches across the space between us and cups my chin, gently tipping my head upward until I have no choice but to meet his eyes.

"Where'd that beautiful brain of yours go?"

The corner of my mouth twitches despite the heaviness sitting in my chest, but it doesn't last. I lower my gaze again, or try to, though his hand keeps me from completely turning away.

"I hate this," I admit. "I hate feeling like some freaking damsel in distress who can't do anything for herself. You've already helped me so much, and now I'm inconveniencing you again because I can't even find somewhere safe to stay without dragging you into it."

His thumb brushes lightly over my chin as he studies me, and when he speaks, his voice is soft but firm enough to stop every argument already forming in my head. "First of all, you're far too stubborn to qualify as a damsel. I'm pretty sure damsels are supposed to make rescuing them easier."

A small laugh slips out of me before I can stop it, and his expression softens at the sound.

"Second, stop deciding what's inconvenient for me. If this were inconvenient, I wouldn't be asking."

"But—"

He presses a finger lightly against my lips before I can finish. "Do you know what your problem is?"

I blink at him.

"You never let anyone do anything for you."

"Because I don't want to owe anyone."

His expression softens, the stern line of his mouth easing as his hand slips from my chin to cup my cheek. "Has it ever occurred to you that maybe people help you because they want to? Because they care about you?" His eyes hold mine, steady and painfully sincere. "Because I do. This might only be fake to you, but damn it, Trouble, I really care about you. More than you know."

I purse my lips, suddenly afraid that if I open my mouth, something humiliating might come out. The way he's looking at me sends a strange, fluttering ache through my stomach, warm and terrifying at the same time, and the familiar sting behind my eyes appears before I can stop it.

I turn my face away, because if I keep staring at him while he says things like that, I'm going to crack wide open right here in the front seat and cry enough tears to flood the entire truck.

His thumb moves gently across my cheek, the touch so soft it nearly undoes me anyway.

When he speaks again, his voice is quiet and soothing, every word carrying the kind of certainty I can't seem to find for myself. "I know you're worried about making my life harder, but it's too late for that. The second I proposed that I be your boyfriend, this became my problem too."

Slowly, I drag my eyes back to his.

"And I don't regret it," he says, holding my gaze. "Not for a second."

I let out a long, defeated sigh.

Honestly...

How am I supposed to argue with that?

The man is sitting here looking at me like I personally hung every star in the sky while saying all the right things in that unfairly calm voice of his. At this point, refusing him would require a level of emotional immunity that I quite obviously do not possess.

I swear, if he keeps looking at me like that much longer, I'm going to start making terrible life decisions.

"...Fine," I mumble, unable to stop the tiny smile tugging at my lips. "I'll stay at the hockey house."

I pretend to think it over for another second before adding with an exaggerated sigh, "If you insist."

That ridiculously handsome mouth of his curves into a small, satisfied smile.